Regretting the Wife He Threw Away

Chapter 631

"I know," Mary murmured, her hand resting protectively on her belly. "But... what

if, after he's born, he isn't recognized as Ferdinand's child?"

Not Ferdinand's child?

Briony's gaze sharpened, trying to read Mary's intent. "What are you saying?"

Mary met her eyes steadily. "Briony, I've been having nightmares lately." She changed the subject so abruptly that Briony's brows knitted in concern.

"I keep dreaming I'll die in childbirth," Mary whispered, “and Ferdinand dies too." Briony pressed her lips together, silent for a moment.

She remembered when she was pregnant with the twins-how nightmares plagued her, too. The dark visions always seemed to foreshadow something awful. Later, when she delivered early and nearly bled out, the bloody chaos was eerily similar to what she'd seen in her dreams.

Maybe it was a mother's sixth sense.

Was Mary's nightmare another warning? A mother's gut instinct?

If Ferdinand died, would that mean Stewart's people had finally succeeded? That would be a good thing... for everyone else.

But what about Mary? So blameless in all of this.

Briony didn't want Mary's fate to mirror her dreams. Mary had only loved the wrong man; she wasn't lost beyond hope. And the child she was carrying-the child was entirely innocent.

nor her baby should have

said gently, striving to comfort her. "Pregnancy makes dreams more vivid, especially if you're stressed.

bittersweet understanding.

both women who'd survived unhappy childhoods, and Briony felt a kinship—a

I've always thought you were brave, but with Ferdinand... you lost yourself in him. Still, you and your baby are innocent. Ferdinand's sins are his alone. If you ever get the chance, I hope you'll find the strength to leave him, take your child,

something unspoken. "Briony, I'll do

was taken aback. She'd expected resistance, a need for more persuasion -but

a

was willing to walk away from Ferdinand, maybe there was still hope

that was left now was to wait for the

night, Briony was just about to drift off when the bedroom door

in, his suit jacket slung over one arm. His white dress shirt hung open at the collar, the tie loosened and the top

toward her, sinking down on the edge

of whiskey

she could react, his hot palm pressed against the back

are you

hand firmly on his chest, glaring at him. "You're drunk. Stay away

glassiness in

wasn't the

had been meant as

celebration, a pre-wedding dinneret