Regretting the Wife He Threw Away

Stewart stared after Briony, stunned and silent.

But Briony didn't look back. She turned away, walked briskly into the house, and closed the front door with a decisive thud, shutting him out completely.

He stood there, gazing at the closed door, grief clouding his eyes.

The Maynard family estate.

After escorting the four elders home, Maynard explained everything just as he and Briony had agreed. Unsurprisingly, his version of the story landed him exactly where he expected: kneeling in the family chapel as punishment.

When Clifford, the family patriarch, heard that it was his own grandson who had wronged a woman—leaving her with a child out of wedlock and the Maynard family's eldest grandson out in the world without a proper name his fury boiled over. He brought his cane down hard on Maynard's back.

Maynard endured the blow without a word.

Beatrice, ever the doting grandmother, scolded him too, but her words were softer, more for show than anything. She ordered him to the chapel for his penance, but she was really just trying to protect him from Clifford's wrath, worried the old man might lash out again.

So Maynard was sent to kneel in the chapel.

Clifford made it clear: Maynard was to kneel until morning. If anyone tried to plead for him, they could kneel right alongside him.

Afra and Damian just shook their heads and sighed. Thirty-six years old, and he still couldn't bring his wife and kids home. If he had to kneel, so be it. They didn't feel sorry for him.

But Beatrice did.

At dinner, she had the butler quietly deliver some warm rolls and even slipped in a soft cushion for him to kneel on.

By seven that evening, the chapel was silent.

Generations of Maynard ancestors stared down from their portraits as Maynard, the family's wayward son, sat cross-legged on the cushion, back to their stern faces, leisurely gnawing on a meat-stuffed roll the butler had smuggled in.

He looked almost at ease.

The old butler kept watch outside, making sure no one disturbed him.

Halfway through his roll, Maynard felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

He pulled it out—an unfamiliar number. Arching a brow, he swallowed the bite in

his mouth before answering in his usual unhurried way.

On the other end, a woman's cool, slightly mocking voice drifted through. "Mr. Maynard, it's me-Xenia Cooper."

He wasn't surprised. "Ms. Cooper, after that grand performance you staged, I suppose you're calling to discuss some kind of partnership?"

She gave a short laugh. "From your tone, it almost sounds like you're looking forward to it, Mr. Maynard."

"Not exactly looking forward to it," he replied, one hand holding his phone, the other resting lazily on his bent knee, still holding half a roll. "But I guessed as much, so I suppose I am a little intrigued."

"I heard your family paid a visit to Ms. Kensington today. How did that go?" Xenia's voice was laced with amusement.

Maynard's eyes narrowed, the warmth in them fading. "You had someone watching Briony?"

"That's right. Surprised?"

"Are you out of your mind?" His voice grew cold. "What did Briony ever do to you? She just used your bone marrow, didn't she? Wasn't that a deal you made with

Stewart? What is your problem?"

"I'm just envious of her."

He let out a bitter laugh. "What,

exactly, are you envious of? That she grew up in a family that only valued sons? That she went through a miserable marriage, got divorced, and now raises two kids on her own? Or are you jealous that she came so close to dying from illness?"

"I envy that, despite everything, she still has so many people who love her-who care about her. She doesn't even have to ask; you all just rush to her side. Mr. Maynard, we're both women. Why is she the lucky one?"

"Xenia Cooper, you really are sick." Maynard tossed the rest of the roll onto the plate, took a deep breath, and finally said the words he'd been holding in for years. "Naylor's been dead eight years. No matter how much you can't let go, you have to move on. You still have a son-Vernon is all you have left of Naylor. For his sake, I'm begging you, let it go. Try to live your life, give Vernon a chance at something normal."

There was silence on the other end.

Maynard pinched the bridge of his nose. "I was Naylor's friend. This is all I can say to you. Don't waste your life resenting what you don't have Briony's life hasn't been easy, either. Everyone has their own share of heartbreak to face. Pride is your strength, Xenia, but don't let it become a weapon that destroys others. I believe, if Naylor could see

you now, he'd never want you to end up like this." noveldrama