Regretting the Wife He Threw Away novel Chapter 133

The crowd around them seemed to freeze in place.

Above their heads, paper lanterns drifted into the night sky while farther out, floating candles carried wishes downstream on the river.

A cool evening breeze brushed Briony’s cheek, lifting a few strands of her hair.

Her eyelashes fluttered as she pulled her gaze away from the glowing lights and looked up at James. “Let’s go.”

James glanced down at her, his arm still protectively around her shoulders.

“You didn’t get hurt back there, did you?”

“No,” Briony replied quietly, eyes lowered. “Thank you.”

James swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly. “There are too many people here. I’ll help you get out.”

That brief scare had left her a little shaken. At a moment like this, Briony couldn’t be bothered with propriety; she simply nodded. “Alright.”

James guided her through the crowd, one arm shielding her shoulders, the other held out in front to clear a path.

Behind them, an intense, cold stare followed their every move, lingering until they finally broke free of the throng and reached the car.

The door closed, shutting out the noise—and that unsettling gaze.

Briony leaned back in her seat, eyes closed, looking exhausted.

James glanced at her, lips pressing into a thin line. After a moment, he turned and looked toward the back seat. “Where do you live, Hannah? I’ll take you home first.”

“Thank you, Mr. Delaney!” Hannah beamed and rattled off her address.

…

After dropping Hannah off, James turned the car toward Dolphin Cove.

Briony seemed to have fallen asleep, her eyes closed the entire time, quietly resting.

James eased his foot off the gas, driving slower and more carefully.

Bzzz—

A vibration came from inside Briony’s purse.

She opened her eyes, reached into her bag, and pulled out her phone.

It was Carney, calling to say a high-profile client had just reclaimed a significant artifact from overseas. The piece needed restoration—an extraordinarily difficult task.

Carney believed only a joint effort between Briony and James could do the job justice, and asked if Briony could return to Silveridge with James the next day.

Briony agreed.

After hanging up, she relayed the plan to James.

“So, I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning?” he asked.

She didn’t want to waste time arguing. Skirting around Stewart, she unlocked the door and headed straight inside.

Stewart didn’t follow.

Briony went to the lounge to grab her IDs, then to the restoration room for her toolkit.

A golden retriever puppy trailed her from room to room.

“Lucky, don’t follow me out. I’m leaving for a few days,” she said, looking down at the puppy.

Lucky tilted his head, barked softly, and sat obediently in place.

He was smart and well-behaved—Briony couldn’t help but smile and crouch down to scratch his head. “I’ll bring you back some treats, alright? Be good while I’m gone.”

“Woof woof!” Lucky spun in a happy little circle.

Briony’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “Show-off.”

At the entrance, Stewart watched Briony and the puppy together, his brow creased.

In his dark eyes, her pale profile was framed by a few loose strands of hair—a picture of quiet contentment.

But for some reason, seeing this left Stewart with a hollow ache in his chest.

Briony straightened up and walked toward the door.