Regretting the Wife He Threw Away novel Chapter 390

Carl watched as Rosita's face darkened, his expression never wavering from its polite professionalism. "This diamond," he said, voice measured and calm, "was custom-commissioned at great expense by Mr. Wentworth. It has always belonged to someone else. You've had it long enough, Ms. Lockwood. It's time to return it."

Rosita clenched her jaw, fury simmering in her eyes, but she knew she had no choice.

She strode over to the safe and retrieved a velvet jewelry box, deep blue and elegant.

Carl took it from her, opening it to check the contents.

Inside lay the diamond, dazzling and flawless—a rare natural stone from South Africa, one of a kind, worth a fortune.

He pulled on a pair of white gloves and lifted the diamond for inspection, turning it carefully under the light.

Etched on the inside were two letters: BK.

Satisfied it was genuine, Carl placed the diamond back in the box and closed the lid with a quiet snap.

He nodded coolly at Rosita. "Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Lockwood."

Then, without another word, he turned and walked out, the box in hand.

Rosita stood there, her face twisted with barely contained rage.

…

Two hours later, Rosita and Daisy stepped out of the mansion.

Behind them, movers carried out boxes, loading them onto a waiting truck.

Among the items were two mattresses—one from Rosita's bedroom, the other from the room Lauren used to stay in.

When Rosita saw the mattresses being carted out, her composure finally shattered.

She jabbed a finger at the movers, her voice sharp with anger. "I don't want that mattress anymore! You don't need to move it!"

Carl, standing to one side, raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you don't want it, Ms. Lockwood?"

Rosita glared at him, her patience gone. "What's that supposed to mean, Carl? I'm one of the top actresses in the country—do you really think I can't afford a mattress when I move out?"

Carl remained unruffled. "Please don't misunderstand, Ms. Lockwood. Mattresses are personal items, and both of these have already been used. Mr. Wentworth certainly won't be keeping them. If you don't want them, we'll just have the movers dispose of them."

Rosita's hands balled into fists, humiliation burning in her chest.

As if throwing her out wasn't enough—now Stewart wanted to make a show of discarding even the mattress she slept on.