Regretting the Wife He Threw Away

Chapter 153 Doctor's Office.

Inside, the atmosphere was so heavy you could almost taste it. Quentin, Stewart, Dr. Cedric Clarke, and Rosita's psychiatrist were all present, tension thick in the air.

The psychiatrist broke the silence first. "Given the current situation, Rosita's mental illness has becquite severe. Based on your account, Mr. Wentworth, my preliminary assessment is that she's experiencing psychogenic amnesia— possibly linked to depression, though her brain tumor may also be a contributing factor." She turned to Dr. Clarke. "Dr. Clarke, you're an oncology specialist-what's your opinion?" Cedric Clarke cleared his throat. "While oncology is my field, I don't specialize in neurology. Rosita's case is complicated, and at this point, I can't say for sure whether her memory loss is psychological or caused by the tumor." Quentin shot a look at Stewart. "So, what are you planning to do now?" His tone was stern, bordering on confrontational. "Rosita can't take any more shocks. Honestly, I think her memory loss might be a blessing in disguise. But that tumor..." He scowled. "No matter what it takes, I'm going to get her the help she needs. I'll make sure Rosita gets better- even if it costseverything." The tumor in Rosita's brain, judging by its appearance, was almost certainly malignant. In other words-brain cancer.

Cedric Clarke held the MRI up to the light, his brow furrowing deeper the longer he stared at it. "The tumor's in a very tricky spot," he said at last. "If we operate, the risks are extremely high. There's a real chance she might not survive the surgery." Stewart's voice was quiet but steady. "If we don't operate, how long does she have?" Quentin suddenly exploded, leaping to his feet. "What the hell is wrong with you?" He lunged at Stewart, fists clenched.

"Calm down!" "Director Lockwood, please, let's not do this!" Cedric Clarke and the psychiatrist both rushed to hold Quentin back.

Stewart kept his head down, unfazed by Quentin's outburst.

Quentin glared at him. "Rosita gave birth to your son without a nor a title. Stewart, if you had a shred of decency, you wouldn't abandon her now!" "That child isn't even-" Stewart cut off Cedric Clarke with a sharp look. “Let's get one thing straight, Quentin. Whatever's betweenand Rosita, it's none of your business. Just because she calls you 'big brother' doesn't mean you get to dictate how she lives her life. You Lockwoods don't have that right." Quentin's jaw tightened. "We raised her. Why wouldn't we?" Stewart stared at him coldly, contempt in his gaze. "Maybe her memory loss is for the best," he said, standing and straightening his suit jacket. "At least now, all she remembers is the Lockwoods' kindness. That works out well for you, doesn't it?" Quentin frowned, thrown by Stewart's words.

Without another glance, Stewart strode out, letting the door swing shut behind him.

Cedric Clarke and the psychiatrist exchanged a wordless nod and quickly followed.

Up on the rooftop, the wind was biting cold. Cedric Clarke stuffed his hands into the pockets of his white coat, hunching his shoulders against the chill.

"So you're really going to marry Rosita?" he asked.

Stewart took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly. "I promised him I'd do everything I could to protect her and the boy." "Yeah, but is that really worth throwing your life away?" Cedric's expression was conflicted. "If you go through with this, what about Briony? Are you really going to divorce her?" Stewart's eyes narrowed. "Briony and I... it was all just an act." Cedric let out a dry, bitter laugh. "You sure about that? Who was it who chased after her with a broken rib last time? Who almost burst a blood vessel when he heard she'd just had an abortion?" Stewart's lips pressed into a thin line, the crease between his brows deepening.

Cedric looked at him-angry and helpless all at once. "Before I knew the truth, I thought you were heartless. Now that I do... I almost feel sorry for you." Stewart stared out into the city, silent.

After they left the rooftop, Cedric and Stewart went their separate ways.

Back in his office, Cedric couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. Depression and brain cancer- both discovered right after a suicide attempt? The timing was too convenient.

Frowning, he picked up his phone, scrolled through his contacts, and dialed an old classmate overseas.

Late that night, Briony was jolted awake by the buzzing of her phone.

Still half-asleep, she groped for it and answered. "Hello?" There was only silence on the other end.

Briony yawned, eyes still closed. "Who is this?" Nothing but the faint hum of static.

Wrong number?

Too tired to care, she hung up and tossed the phone aside rolling over and sinking back into sleep.

Down on the street, a black Mercedes idled by the curb, hazard lights blinking. Inside, a man sat in them driver's seat, clutching his phone so tightly his knuckles were white. The streetlight cast a harsh glow through the windshield, illuminating the sharp planes of his face-all angles and shadows.

He stared at the phone's dark screen, eyes swirling with emotion-anger, confusion obsession-before finally settling into a cold, empty calm. The next morning, a headline exploded across the internet- Breaking: Oscar-winning actress Rosita to marry longtboyfriend!