Regretting the Wife He Threw Away

Chapter 75

Briony couldn't be bothered to argue with them any longer. She'd come here fully prepared for whatever might happen.

As for Stewart... If she was still harboring even a shred of hope for him at this point, that would be truly pathetic.

With that in mind, Briony spoke, her voice icy: "I'll pay for Mack's bone marrow. Name your price."

"Name a price?" Madeline scoffed, her lips curling in disdain. "The Kensington family hardly needs your money, Briony! If you want to save that wretched woman, fine—but first, you'll get on your knees and beg my son for forgiveness!"

At her words, Mack stepped forward, clutching Malcolm's framed portrait in his arms. He stood on the steps, looming over Briony, looking down with a smug authority.

"Briony, you want my help?" Mack sneered. "Get down on your knees and bow to my father's picture. One hundred times. And for each one, you say, 'I'm sorry, I was wrong.' Do that, and I'll donate my bone marrow to your criminal of a mother."

Briony's eyes flicked to Malcolm's portrait, her brow furrowing. She turned back to Mack. "You swear you'll keep your word?"

"Of course!" Mack's eyes gleamed with the thrill of tormenting her. "Well? What are you waiting for, Briony? Get down and start begging!"

Briony stood her

portrait toward her. "What's wrong, Briony? Not willing? Look! Who's this? It's your father-your own flesh and blood! Now, in front of him, you're begging me to save the woman who killed him.

portrait, and for one chilling moment, Mack's face seemed to

Malcolm, for Mack, for Madeline, or for anything the Kensingtons had ever done. Disgust

as people. It was better to treat them as

furniture. "I'll kneel. I'll apologize. But do you

caught off

an oath like

exploded. "You venomous little wretch! Mack is the only heir our family has

off, eager to keep the upper hand. "I swear before my father: if you kneel

floor, her voice rising in panic. "How could you say such a

hundred times? There's no way

was sure Briony didn't have the strength-or the pride-to endure

she did, so what? Mack had never believed in superstitions. The dead were dead. Swearing in front of some