Regretting the Wife He Threw Away

Chapter 420

Her fists were clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white, and her teeth were nearly grinding to pieces. "Fine," she hissed through gritted teeth, "let's just say I owe you. I'll give you the wedding you want."

"That's more like it." Stewart's hand pressed firmly to the back of her neck as he leaned in and brushed a gentle kiss against her forehead.

Briony closed her eyes. Silent tears slipped from the corners and traced down her cheeks.

Stewart had planned everything down to the last detail.

Besides Bianca, there was an entire team of wedding staff waiting aboard the yacht.

A private doctor, a master of ceremonies, even a chef-no expense spared.

This yacht had been extensively renovated, but nowhere more so than the cabin Briony had stayed in these past days. It was an exact replica of Southcreek Manor's master bedroom, recreated with painstaking precision.

Ever since Briony had finally agreed to Stewart's demand for a wedding ceremony, these people began appearing one after another before her.

Two female stylists were busy doing her hair and makeup.

The yacht floated in calm waters, anchored far from shore.

Today, the sea was as smooth as glass.

Blue sky arched overhead, the ocean stretched endlessly, and every now and then a seagull soared past.

On deck, the wedding planners scurried back and forth, stringing up flowers and balloons, rolling out a red carpet, testing the sound equipment. The scene was every bit as extravagant and meticulously orchestrated as the ceremonies that made their rounds on social media-full of pageantry, designed for glossy perfection.

help of the stylists, Briony was made to change back into the wedding dress

dark red stains on the gown-blood, stark against the

glue rose petals over

protest. She let them do as they wished, indifferent to

scarlet petals might look creative, a clever flourish

the truth. It didn't matter how many rose petals they glued on- the blood was still there,

her

by death-there

Briony had felt nothing but

was only

already dressed in his suit, pushed open the door

walked in. OR

stylists greeted him politely.

Stewart

down their brushes and palettes

walked over to

stared straight ahead, her face expressionless,

didn't seem to

slowly

her,

on the

custom high heels from

their box.

tiny crystals, sparkling under the lights—straight out of a