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

her skin, radiating an almost suffocating

lifted a hand and pushed against his chest, trying to put some

his head and, without warning, bit down hard on the soft curve of

shot

away

let go, releasing

the face, her voice trembling with

from the corner of his mouth, then glanced at her ear, now bleeding freely where his teeth had left their mark. He

a blank page. You make me feel small-less than I am. Every time look at you, this voice

he'd bitten off

white of her wedding dress, spreading in

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

chest heaved; her breathing grew ragged

was sick. No matter how she fought back, no matter how she gave in, the relentless torment of fate never let her

moment, Briony felt utterly exhausted by the

at Ferdinand, silent tears slipping down her