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!"

stood her ground,

Now, in front of him, you're begging me to save the woman who killed him. And

chilling moment, Mack's face seemed to blend with Malcolm's. The cruelty-it really

any feeling for Malcolm, for Mack, for Madeline, or for

realized, there was no point thinking of them as people. It was better to treat them

piece of furniture. "I'll kneel. I'll apologize. But do you dare swear, here and now, in front of Malcolm's portrait, that if you break your word, you'll

faltered, caught off

oath

exploded. "You venomous little wretch! Mack

Mack cut her off, eager to keep the upper hand. "I swear before

Madeline pounded her cane against the floor, her voice rising in

worry. A hundred

seeped into their bones. Mack was sure Briony didn't have the strength-or the pride-to endure

Mack had never believed in superstitions. The dead were dead. Swearing in front of some picture meant nothing. What could possibly happen-divine