Regretting the Wife He Threw Away

Chapter 97

It was just past 1 a.m. on the first day of the new year when Irwin was rushed into the emergency room.

The attending physician examined his injuries, his brows furrowing with concern. "The wound's pretty deep," he said gravely. "It might've reached the bone."

Briony stood outside the ER, watching Stewart pace back and forth, his phone pressed tightly to his ear. The fear and anxiety written all over his face were impossible to miss.

She never imagined things would spiral out of control like this.

Though Briony had her share of resentment, she'd never once intended for Irwin to get hurt.

She'd cared for him for five years. Colds and sniffles happened often enough, but tumbles and scrapes were rare. This was by far the worst injury he'd suffered since he was born, and Briony couldn't pretend she didn't care.

After all, she'd raised this boy with her own hands; he'd called her "Mom" for five years. And now, because of a single argument, he was lying in the ER, fighting for his life...

No matter what mistakes Rosita and Stewart had made, Irwin was just a child-an innocent bystander.

Briony pressed a trembling hand to her lower abdomen, her chest tightening with guilt.

She couldn't bring herself to harden her heart toward Irwin-yet when it came to her own children, she'd always been cold and ruthless.

learned of their existence, it seemed as if she'd done nothing but turn her back on

was innocent, then what about her

just

sharp she had to close her eyes

was gone, and soon, these two children would be taken from her as

be left in this world

felt her wrist caught

voice was low and cold, edged

gaze. Her own expression was cool,

got hurt because of you. He's still in there,

yet. At the very least, she would wait until Irwin was out of

explaining herself

free from his grasp, ignoring the intense look in his eyes. Without glancing back, Briony walked over to an empty seat, folded her arms around herself, and

was dressed and, after a moment's hesitation, took off his coat

could react, the heavy black overcoat, still warm

her move, gently pressed her shoulders. "No need to punish yourself just because you're angry," he said

She froze.

voice rang out as

catching her just as she stumbled. He looked up at the man who had accompanied her-Director Quentin Lockwood, Rosita's stepbrother and