Regretting the Wife He Threw Away

Chapter 225 Rosita's tears slipped down her cheeks as she tilted her chin up, gazing at Quentin with a plaintive, fragile look. "You're the only one who can helpnow," she pleaded.

Quentin's Adam's apple bobbed as he locked his deep brown eyes on Rosita's tear-reddened ones. "What do you wantto do?" "Briony's taken Stewart from me... and now she's after my son, too..." Rosita's voice was meek, almost innocent, but her words dripped with venom.

"I know I can't outmaneuver her, but I can't just let it go. She stole the most important people in my life-so I want her to feel my pain. I want everyone she cares about to leave her, one by one. I want her to know what it feels like to be utterly alone." Quentin frowned. "The only people she truly relies on now are Stella and James. James has government connections and an influential family-you can't touch him." He paused, then added, "Stella's been spending twith Cedric Clarke lately. If I go after her, Cedric will do whatever it takes to protect her. I don't think I could get past him." "I know, I know I'm asking a lot..." Rosita shifted, climbing onto the hospital bed on her knees. Her delicate body inched closer, her voice trembling. "But... what if it looked like an accident?" "What are you saying?" "I heard there's a medical outreach trip to the mountains next month-Stella's on the team, isn't she?" "That's meant to boost the hospital's reputation. If something happened to a staff member during the trip, it'd be a disaster for us. And Cedric Clarke is going to be there too." "But it's the rainy season, the terrain up there is dangerous. If there's a storm and someone gets hurt... well, wouldn't that just be an unfortunate accident?" Rosita leaned in, her tearful eyes wide with helplessness. "You've always said you wanted to seehappy, haven't you?" As she spoke, her breath danced across Quentin's neck. He clenched his jaw, took a step back, fighting to keep control. "Rosita, you don't have to do this. I do want you to be happy, but... I don't have feelings for you like that." Rosita's lips curled into a smile. She didn't press her body fully against his, but the space between them was barely more than a breath.

"I know," she purred, her eyes glinting slyly like a fox who knew exactly how to ensnare its prey. "But you've always looked out for me, cared for me. Shouldn't I give you something in return... make you happy, even just for a little while?" Her slender fingers traced down Quentin's chest, slipping lower to the waistband of his trousers, drawing slow, deliberate circles.

Quentin's breathing grew ragged.

Click- The belt buckle cundone.

He stiffened, eyes closing in surrender.

Rosita watched him, a flicker of disgust passing through her gaze.

Half an hour later, the hospital room door opened.

Quentin stepped out, perfectly composed in his suit, pulling the door shut behind him. He glanced around the hallway, face unreadable-though a shadow of what just happened still lingered in his eyes.

After a moment, he walked away.

Inside, Rosita went straight to the bathroom. She turned on the tap and scrubbed her hands over and over beneath the running water.

The sound of water echoed in the room.

Rosita looked up. In the mirror, her lips curved into a faint smile, but her eyes were cold and murderous.

A week later, with Lydia's help, Briony finally finished restoring Mrs. Chadwick's wedding gown.

When the tcto deliver it, Mr. and Mrs. Chadwick were overwhelmed to see the dress looking as beautiful as the day it was first worn.

Mrs. Chadwick took Briony's hands, brimming with gratitude. "Ms. Kensington, you're so young, yet you have the heart and skill of a true craftswoman. That's a rare gift." Briony smiled gently at the kindly woman. "You flatter me, Mrs. Chadwick." In the end, Briony only accepted payment for Lydia's hours and the cost of materials.

Mr. and Mrs. Chadwick were embarrassed to pay so little, but Briony insisted- she wouldn't take a penny more.

Mr. Chadwick realized that insisting on paying more would only cheapen the true value of her work. Instead, he handed Briony a business card embossed in gold- a mark of his distinguished status.

"Ms. Kensington, if you ever need anything at all, just call this number. Whatever you ask, I'll do it-no questions asked." Few people ever received Mr. Chadwick's gilded card.

Briony accepted it with both hands, nodding earnestly. "Thank you, Mr. Chadwick. I'm honored." He nodded, clearly pleased. "Good. Now that you've accepted it, my wife and I can rest easy." Looking at the couple before her, Briony felt a genuine warmth toward them.

None of them knew that, in the days to come, this card would becBriony's lifeline.

At five o'clock that evening, Briony was packing up her things when her phone rang.

The number was unfamiliar.

She hesitated, then answered.

"Ms. Kensington. It's me," said a voice.

Briony frowned. "Who is this?" "It's Rosita." Briony paused. "What do you want?" "Let's meet," Rosita said.

Briony's tone was cold. "If you have something to say, just say it." "It's not that simple. I have a recording I think you'll want to hear."

"Oh?" Briony's lips curled into a cool, mocking smile. "We barely known each other How could you possibly know what might interest me?" "It's about Stewart." "Stewart?" Briony let out a derisive laugh. "I couldn't care less."

Rosita sounded rattled now. "Briony, don't think that just because Stewart won't divorce you, you can sit back and relax! The only reason he's staying married is for Irwin's sake!"

"Oh." Briony's reply was utterly indifferent. "By the way, I'm recording this call. I wonder if your legion of diehard fans would be interested to learn how the famous Rosita likes to harass her soon-to-be ex's wife. That would make for sjuicy gossip, wouldn't it?"