Regretting the Wife He Threw Away novel Chapter 471

“Can I see your room, Mario?” Nina asked, her eyes shining with curiosity.

Mario nodded. “Sure.”

Carol smiled at the two of them. “Come on, I’ll take you upstairs.”

Hand in hand, Mario and Nina followed Carol up the staircase, giggling softly as they went.

Briony picked up the clothes she’d brought and was about to head after them when Lorna’s voice stopped her.

“Ms. Kensington, could we have a word?”

Briony paused, turning to look at Lorna.

“Ms. Kensington, Mario is a bright, thoughtful child. I hope you won’t let your own possessiveness hold him back from growing up the way he should.”

A cool, measured smile flickered on Briony’s lips. “If we’re talking about possessiveness, Ms. Riley, you seem far more invested than I am.”

Lorna’s brow furrowed.

“I’ve already made everything clear to Stewart,” Briony continued, her tone even. “If you think I’m out of line, take it up with him. From now on, Ms. Riley, you don’t need to pretend we’re getting along for appearances. I have no interest in your man, and you don’t need to try and take my son.”

With that, Briony turned away and started up the stairs, ignoring Lorna’s tight-lipped silence.

Upstairs, laughter and playful shrieks drifted from the children’s bedroom next to the master suite.

Stewart stood by the open door, watching his two children with a gentle gaze.

Nina bounced on Mario’s little bed. “Do you sleep here all by yourself at night?”

Mario sat cross-legged, his face serious. “Yes.”

“Who reads you bedtime stories, then?”

“Dad does.”

Nina stopped mid-bounce, surprised. She crawled over and peered at him. “But your dad’s so serious all the time. Are his stories any good? Isn’t his voice too stiff? How do you fall asleep?”

Mario blinked, his expression earnest. “Dad has a nice voice.”

“Huh?” Nina scrunched up her nose, trying to imagine Stewart reading a story, but she just couldn’t picture it.

Her face fell, and her lips pouted. “I never had a dad. Not even when I was born.”

Mario looked at her, sensing her sadness. “I didn’t have a mom when I was born, either.”

Stewart was taken aback, his dark eyes fixed on her.

They stood there in a quiet, unspoken understanding—perhaps for the first time.

Briony couldn’t quite explain it. It was as if she’d weathered a storm, recovered from an illness, or woken from a long, restless dream. Suddenly, everything felt lighter.

If the divorce had been her long-awaited escape, then standing here now—in the house she’d once poured her heart into, facing the man with whom she’d spent nine years of her life—she finally felt able to talk to him with genuine peace.

The joyful shouts of their children echoed through the room.

All those old hurts, the bitterness, the lingering regrets—they no longer seemed to matter.

Because now, at last, she knew what she wanted to do next.

She wasn’t anxious or stubborn anymore—not because of anyone else’s change, but because she herself had changed.

…

Briony left Southcreek Manor with both children.

Stewart stood at the window of his study, watching as her car disappeared down the winding drive.