Regretting The Wife He Threw Away

Stewart couldn't help but sigh inwardly.

The kids were so thoughtful. They could tell he was feeling down and were trying their best to cheer him up.

But deep down, Stewart knew the truth: Briony would never have invited him to stay at Pearbrook Mansion of her own accord. It was only because the kids had begged, and she couldn't bear to disappoint them, that she'd agreed.

The reality was, in Briony's eyes, Stewart no longer belonged under this roof.

A dull ache settled in his chest.

He told himself he had no right to ask about Briony's personal life anymore, but the thought of her and Maynard spending the night together at the Windsor made jealousy twist inside him anyway.

Maynard's pursuit of Briony was anything but subtle—bold, open, and relentless.

Now, with the two of them working together, they had every excuse to be around each other all the time.

Stewart couldn't help but wonder: with Maynard coming on so strong, how long could Briony hold her ground?

He looked at his two children—so perceptive and mature for their age—and closed his eyes, silent.

The idea that Briony might let another man into her life tore at him, but he knew, clear as day, he had lost the right to say anything about it.

Maybe this was the ending he and Briony were meant to have.

bury his love so deep it would never see daylight again—let it wither, quietly, until his heart stopped

night, Stewart

nine o'clock he was tucked into bed with the kids, watching them play and giggle, though his mind kept wandering back

it, but he couldn't resist nudging his little girl. "Why don't you call

"Okay!" She grabbed Stewart's phone and dialed Briony's video

No answer.

She tried again.

Still nothing.

"Do you think Mommy's

his lips

screen and decided not to answer, he thought

pulling out his own kiddie smartwatch.

and rang, but no

Mario tried again.

an eternity, someone answered—but it wasn't Briony. Maynard's voice came through

froze, staring at

Maynard answering

glanced up at Stewart,

tightened as he fixed his gaze on Mario's smartwatch, a storm brewing behind his

the room

to the watch, her tiny voice piping up, "Mr. Maynard,

in the shower," Maynard replied, sounding far too relaxed. "It's past nine, shouldn't you two be