Regretting the Wife He Threw Away

Chapter 285 Little Nina's paintbrush slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor. She crouched down to pick it up- Suddenly, a pair of polished black leather shoes appeared right in front of her.

She paused, curiosity flickering across her face as she tilted her head back to look up.

Stewart knelt down, his intense gaze fixed on the little girl whose features so closely resembled Briony's. Emotions churned in his dark eyes.

Little Nina's big brown eyes grew even wider.

Wow, this uncle is really handsome! And not at all in the sway as Uncle Ferdinand, either.

But... there was something a little strange about him.

Clutching her paintbrush, Little Nina edged away, eyeing Stewart with open suspicion.

Swallowing hard, Stewart parted his lips, struggling for a moment before finally speaking. "What's your name?" "My mom says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers!" she replied, her voice bright and clear-and deliberately loud. "Even if the stranger is really good-looking, it's still not allowed!" Her words immediately caught the teacher's attention.

A young woman strolled over, pausing when she caught sight of Stewart. For a split second, surprise registered on her face.

He was handsome, with a quiet, commanding presence that was hard to ignore.

But a flutter of attraction or not, she didn't forget her responsibility.

"Sir, is there someone you're looking for?" she asked politely.

Rising to his feet, Stewart gave her a curt nod. "Sorry-I didn't mean to interrupt your class." "It's alright. The kids are just about finished with their art anyway. Are you here for one of them?" Stewart's eyes darted to Little Nina.

She planted her hands on her hips and glared at him, her entire posture radiating caution. For someone so young, she had a keen sense of self-protection.

He couldn't help but smile faintly at her precocious display.

Turning back to the teacher, his expression cooled. "She's just adorable, that's all.

I was curious. Sorry for disturbing you." With that, he turned and walked away.

The teacher watched him go, just in case he turned out to be a wolf in sheep's clothing. She didn't let her guard down until she saw him climb into a sleek black Mercedes parked by the curb.

She caught a glimpse of the license plate-custom, consecutive numbers.

Well, she thought, someone driving a car like that probably isn't a kidnapper.

"Little Nina," she called, beckoning her over.

The girl crunning. "Yes, teacher?" The teacher ruffled her hair gently. "Do you know that man?" "Nope," Little Nina said, shaking her head. "But he kept staring atwith a weird expression. Even though he's really handsome, my mom says you can't talk to strangers. I always remember that!" "You're a smart girl, Little Nina!" Back in his car, Stewart watched Little Nina and her teacher through the window.

She was adorable, with rosy cheeks and the sweetest little face. Whoever was raising her was doing a fine job- she was well cared for, and even better taught.

The teachers gathered up the children and started leading them back toward the preschool.

"Keep an eye on them," Stewart ordered.

Carl started the car and followed the group at a crawl, careful not to draw attention.

The park was only a block from the preschool, less than two hundred meters away.

It was just about pickup time.

Parents waited in clusters at the school gates.

Carl parked a little ways down the street, out of sight from the main entrance.

Stewart spotted James almost immediately. Among all the parents, James's towering frame-nearly six foot three- was impossible to miss.

In no time, Little Nina cbounding over, her backpack bouncing behind her.

"Godfather!" she called.

James bent down and scooped her up, brushing sweat from her forehead with a gentle hand. "What's my little princess been up to? You're all sweaty!" "We went to the park to draw!" She could barely contain her excitement. "I made a picture. Mommy sells her paintings, and since I'm her daughter, mine must be good too! Godfather, do you want to buy my painting?" "Of course!" James grinned. "I'll buy every one you ever make!" "Wow, I'm so touched! But you'll have to wait your turn." James raised an eyebrow. "Why's that?" "Grandpa and Grandma will want to buy them too," Little Nina said, her eyes twinkling. "Whoever pays the most gets the painting!" James: ...

Well, well-she's gotten even craftier since I last saw her! He studied her clever little face, feeling a bittersweet ache in his chest.

She definitely takes after her real father in that department.

The more he thought about it, the more it stung. How could Stewart be the one with such an adorable daughter?

Then again, maybe it was better for her to be sharp and savvy. The world was full of ull of smooth talkers-no need for her to be as naive as her mother once was.

Carrying Little Nina, James made his way toward his car-completely m unaware of the black Mercedes parked discreetly down the street. As James's car pulled away, Carl glanced over at Stewart. "Mr. Wentworth, should we keep following them?" "No need." Stewart closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let's focus on what we chere for." "Yes, sir." Briony wrapped up her business in Cloudcrest City after just a day.

She and the founder of Dream FrAnimation saw eye to eye on nearly everything The project's direction was set, the rest-the nitty-gritty of production The content is on Fas novelenglish.net! and planning-could be hammered out later.

At the airport, she checked the departures board. Tomorrow was Little Nina's birthday, and her heart grew heavy.

Four years.

She hadn't set foot in Northborough since her son's funeral.

He'd been so small, all alone in the Wentworth family cemetery. Was he ever scared? She'd been running for four years. That was enough.

Briony booked the earliest flight back to Northborough.

Four hours later, her plane touched down at Northborough International Airport.

She took a taxi straight from the terminal to the Wentworth family cemetery.

On the way, she dialed Cedric Clarke.

He picked up almost immediately. "What's the occasion? I wasn't expecting your call."