Regretting the Wife He Threw Away novel Chapter 47

Half-conscious, Briony caught the faint scent of something familiar.

She coughed, clutching her aching throat as she forced her eyes open.

The car was dim inside, streetlights flickering through the windows as they passed by. The shifting glow and shadow jolted her memory into place.

This was Stewart’s car.

She sat up abruptly, scanning the front seat. Stewart glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “You’re awake?”

Fragments of memory from before she blacked out drifted back. The last person she remembered seeing… was Stewart? But why would Stewart be there?

“How are you feeling now?” His deep voice broke through the silence, pulling her out of her thoughts.

She touched her neck—pain flared beneath her fingers. She didn’t need a mirror to know it was probably bruised.

The Kensingtons had finally managed to turn Mack into a second Malcolm. She felt no sorrow about it.

She’d grown up in the countryside with her grandfather. Other than her mother, who’d sneak away to see her whenever she could, the rest of the Kensington family had always treated her with cold indifference. If her grandfather hadn’t died when she was eighteen, the Kensingtons never would’ve bothered bringing her back.

Afterward, they’d only done so for their own gain—forcing her, just out of high school, to parade around at stuffy society galas. They called it “broadening her horizons,” but everyone knew the real plan was to marry her off for some strategic alliance. As long as the man was powerful enough, the Kensingtons didn’t care if he was a fifty-year-old widower; they’d still force her to marry him.

Briony could still remember the night she refused. Nineteen-year-old Mack sneered, “Do you know how much their family’s offering as a dowry? Five million! Dad says if we get the money, he’ll buy me a new Mercedes. Just marry him already!”

From that moment on, Briony stopped expecting anything from her brother.

If it weren’t for her mother, she never would’ve come back tonight to endure this humiliation.

At a traffic light, the car slowed to a stop. Briony stayed quiet, lost in thought.

Stewart glanced back at her. “Are you feeling that bad?”

She met his eyes in the dim light, unable to read his expression. “I’m fine.” She hesitated, then asked, “What were you doing there anyway?”

Stewart let out a low laugh. “What do you think?”

Briony fell silent. She knew, really, that Stewart had come looking for her. It wasn’t the first time he’d stepped in to help. But she wouldn’t let herself read too much into it this time.

He probably just didn’t want their divorce paperwork complicated by her untimely death. If she died before they signed the papers, he’d be a widower instead of a divorcee—a little too ominous for someone like Stewart.