Regretting the Wife He Threw Away novel Chapter 542

Cedric Clarke and Lorna stood at the foot of the bed, taking turns to gently coax him, patiently repeating words of comfort.

The man who had always been proud and domineering now lay there in silence, meeting the end with a strange, calm acceptance.

The early August sun was setting, its warm glow slanting through the window, washing everything in red. Yet, no matter how the light touched his face, it couldn’t bring color to his deathly pale cheeks.

A car rumbled into the driveway.

Carl was back.

Moments later, hurried footsteps pounded down the hall.

The bedroom door burst open.

Carl, breathless and flushed, rushed in clutching the photo album Briony had given him.

“Mr. Wentworth! Mr. Wentworth!”

He was rarely so reckless.

Stewart, who’d been slipping toward unconsciousness, was startled awake. His heavy eyelids lifted, and he gazed at Carl standing by the bed.

A faint crease appeared between Stewart’s brows, a subtle wince betraying the worsening pain.

Carl’s eyes were rimmed red as he thrust the album forward. “Mr. Wentworth, please—look at this!”

Cedric and Lorna exchanged a glance.

They both guessed what Carl had brought must be from Briony.

But Stewart barely reacted.

Carl pressed on. “Miss Briony asked me to bring this to you.”

That finally made Stewart pause.

It took him a moment before he rasped, “Who… did you say?”

“Miss Briony!” Carl’s voice trembled with urgency. “She wanted you to have this album. It’s a collection of her photos from birth to her first birthday—Ms. Kensington found it for her.”

With great effort, Stewart lifted a hand, reaching for the album, though his strength was all but gone.

Carl quickly set the album down and helped prop Stewart up, arranging two pillows behind his back.

Leaning against them, IV lines trailing from his thin wrist, Stewart slowly opened the album.

The very first photo was of little Nina, newly born, the date scribbled in the corner.

A premature baby, so tiny and red and wrinkled, lying in an incubator with a breathing mask over her face—just the sight of her made Stewart’s heart ache.

He turned the pages—

Nina at one month;

Nina at two months;