Regretting the Wife He Threw Away

Chapter 301

Southern Vale Airport.

A private yacht was moored at the dock.

The captain warned that the sea was rough today, so they'd be moving slowly-it would take around four hours to reach Sapphire Shores.

Briony Kensington's head throbbed dully. As soon as she boarded the yacht, she found a quiet room and went straight to bed.

Stewart Wentworth, knowing she was unwell, asked one of the stewardesses to bring Briony some motion sickness pills.

Briony didn't protest. She swallowed the pills and collapsed onto the bed.

The wind was fierce, and the yacht rocked and pitched as it cut across the waves.

Briony hadn't slept well last night, and lying down didn't do much to ease her discomfort.

Eventually, the medicine began to work; she drifted in and out of a restless sleep.

When she finally woke, the boat was tossing even more violently than before.

She pushed back the covers and sat up, checking the time-only two hours had passed.

Frustration washed over her. Every minute felt like an eternity.

Just then, someone knocked on the door.

Briony slipped on her shoes and went to answer it.

Stewart stood outside, his gaze dark and steady. "Still feeling sick?"

Briony didn't bother replying.

to her cold shoulder. "It'll be another two hours before we dock. You haven't eaten

coolly. "I just want to rest. Let me know when

that, she shut the door in

closed door, lips pressed into

a moment, he turned and

to eat-not just to avoid Stewart, but because the seasickness had killed her appetite. She could barely stand

hours crawled by in a haze of nausea and

the yacht

hand clasped over her mouth, and made it to a nearby

bottle of water and handing it

churning in her stomach finally

her. "Are you sure you're okay? If you need to rest, we can

him off, her voice

gave her a brief nod.

...

another twenty kilometers by car from the dock to where Julia

Shaw had rented a Volkswagen at

out from the port, the pavement

the scenery grow more and more primitive, her worry deepening with every passing

of trees and

even narrower and more winding.

parked at the edge of the

their shoes sinking into the muddy, rain-soaked lane as they walked

the houses here were single-story stone cottages. Every yard had a vegetable patch, and most families kept chickens or ducks-pungent farm smells drifted on

Briony's

her mother really lived in such a remote, impoverished place for the last

farther?" Briony

back.

Briony looked up.

stone cottage