Regretting The Wife He Threw Away

Briony stared at him, lips pressed tightly together, saying nothing.

Ferdinand had managed to dig up events from over four years ago with such precision.

That could only mean he'd already mastered every detail and person connected to Stewart's life. Back in that quiet old village, if Ferdinand had lost control even once, she and the children would never have survived.

"Ferdinand," she said at last, her voice shaking, "if you hate Stewart so much, why did you ever help little Nina recover her health?"

Ferdinand's brow arched, as if genuinely surprised by her sudden question.

He looked at Briony, a faint, unsettling smile playing on his lips. "Bryn, those two years in that small village-they were the happiest days of my life."

He lifted a hand, his palm spanning the delicate line of her neck. His eyes, usually so warm, were filled now with a tenderness that was almost painful to behold.

"I even thought, if you'd be willing to stay there quietly with little Nina, just live out your life in peace, then I could leave everything behind. I could give up that old life, and just be Mr. Ellsworth-a nobody beside you in that little town, for the rest of my days."

As he spoke, his hand suddenly tightened, closing firmly around her throat.

He squeezed, but not hard enough to hurt her just enough to show he could, if he wanted. Briony frowned but didn't struggle.

She met his gaze, her eyes cold and unyielding, not a trace of fear in them.

leaned closer, pressing his forehead

have family, children, friends. But what

breath was hot against her skin,

lifted a hand and pushed against his chest,

Ferdinand's expression twisted. He turned his head and, without warning, bit down hard on the soft curve

pain shot through

shoving him away

let go,

face, her voice trembling with fury. "Ferdinand,

wiped a smear of blood from the corner of his mouth, then glanced at her ear, now bleeding freely where

than I am. Every time look at you, this voice in my head keeps reminding me we don't betong in the same

touched her ear. It felt as if he'd bitten off a piece, the

onto the pristine white of her wedding dress, spreading in crimson

cruise ship, tormenting her in the same sick, twisted way, forcing

breathing grew

if the whole world was sick. No matter how she fought back, no matter how she

utterly exhausted by the weight

looked at Ferdinand, silent tears