Regretting the Wife He Threw Away

Chapter 153

Doctor's Office.

Inside, the atmosphere was so heavy you could almost taste it. Quentin, Stewart, Dr. Cedric Clarke, and Rosita's psychiatrist were all present, tension thick in the air.

The psychiatrist broke the silence first. "Given the current situation, Rosita's mental illness has become quite severe. Based on your account, Mr. Wentworth, my preliminary assessment is that she's experiencing psychogenic amnesia— possibly linked to depression, though her brain tumor may also be a contributing factor."

She turned to Dr. Clarke. "Dr. Clarke, you're an oncology specialist-what's your opinion?"

Cedric Clarke cleared his throat. "While oncology is my field, I don't specialize in neurology. Rosita's case is complicated, and at this point, I can't say for sure whether her memory loss is psychological or caused by the tumor."

Quentin shot a look at Stewart. "So, what are you planning to do now?" His tone was stern, bordering on confrontational. "Rosita can't take any more shocks. Honestly, I think her memory loss might be a blessing in disguise. But that tumor..."

He scowled. "No matter what it takes, I'm going to get her the help she needs. I'll make sure Rosita gets better-even if it costs me everything."

The tumor in Rosita's brain, judging by its appearance, was almost certainly malignant. In other words-brain cancer.

Cedric Clarke held the MRI up to the light, his brow furrowing deeper the longer he stared at it. “The tumor's in a very tricky spot," he said at last. "If we operate, the risks are extremely high. There's a real chance she might not survive the surgery."

Stewart's voice was quiet but steady. "If we don't operate, how long does she have?"

Quentin suddenly exploded, leaping to his feet. "What the hell is wrong with you?" He lunged at Stewart, fists clenched.

down!" "Director Lockwood, please, let's not do this!" Cedric Clarke and the psychiatrist both rushed to

head down, unfazed

him. "Rosita gave birth to your son without a name or a title. Stewart, if you had

"That child isn't even-"

and Rosita, it's none of your business. Just because she calls you 'big brother' doesn't mean you get to dictate how she lives her life. You

raised her. Why wouldn't

contempt in his gaze. "Maybe her memory loss is for the best," he said, standing and straightening his suit jacket. "At least now, all she remembers is

Stewart strode out, letting the door swing shut behind

and the psychiatrist exchanged a wordless nod and quickly

cold. Cedric Clarke stuffed his hands into the

going to marry Rosita?" he

from his cigarette, exhaling slowly. "I promised him I'd do everything

throwing your life away?" Cedric's expression was conflicted. "If you go through

I... it was all just an

dry, bitter laugh. "You sure about that? Who was it who chased after her with a broken rib last time?

into a thin line, the crease between his brows

I knew the truth, I thought you were heartless. Now that I do... I almost feel sorry for you." Stewart stared out into

...

the rooftop, Cedric

right. Depression and brain cancer-both discovered

through his contacts, and dialed an old classmate