Regretting the Wife He Threw Away

Presidential Suite, Westerhaven Hotel.

Briony sat at the vanity, smoothing moisturizer into her skin.

A knock sounded at the door.

She got up and opened it.

On the threshold, Maynard leaned against the frame, arms folded. "Care to watch

a movie together?"

Briony paused, surprised. "What movie?"

"The new Titanic remake."

She glanced at the clock-barely ten o'clock.

Since her recovery, her routine had settled into a strict rhythm.

Besides, of all movies, he picked that one...

Briony offered Maynard a polite smile. "Sorry, but it's already my bedtime."

"Briony, are you really that heartless?" Maynard let out a half-laugh, half-sigh. "It's just a movie. Are you guarding against me like I'm some creep? That hurts, you know."

"I trust your character, Mr. Maynard. I just really need my rest." Briony's tone was earnest. "After all, it took a lot to get my life back on track. I'm sure you can understand."

"Fine." Maynard heaved a dramatic sigh. "It's my bad for not thinking it through. So, you tell me when will you watch a movie with me?"

Briony frowned. "Mr. Maynard, I—"

"Are you going to turn me down again?" He cut her off, eyes bright with mischief, words taunting. "Briony, you're such a coward."

Briony stared at him, at a loss for words.

"What are you so afraid of?" Maynard arched an eyebrow with a teasing smirk. "I promise I don't bite."

Briony pressed her fingers to her temple. "Maynard, are you five years old? Are you really trying to win me over with reverse psychology?"

"What else can I do?" Maynard shrugged, grinning. "You're immune to everything. I'm running out of tricks here!"

Briony offered a sincere suggestion. "You could just give up."

"I'm thirty-six," Maynard replied, putting on a wounded look. "Briony, in a few more years I'll be forty and everyone says a man's no good after forty."

Briony couldn't help but laugh out of exasperation.

"How about this," he continued, "Why not just accept me now-date me for a

couple of years, and then dump me before I hit forty?"noveldrama

Briony let out a sigh, half amused,

half annoyed. "Maynard, feelings et

aren't a joke. I know you like toĝoke around, but some things aren't funny."

Maynard straightened his collar with a flourish. "It might sound like a joke, but I'm

more serious than anyone."

"I can't argue with you," Briony said, shaking her head. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

As she closed the door, Maynard's hand darted out-

She barely had time to react before the door caught his fingers.

Five minutes later, a hotel staff member brought up a first-aid kit.

Maynard lounged on the sofa, one arm draped over the backrest,

other the injured hand- theet

his

fingers hanging l

on

Four knuckles were already swollen and bruised, red and angry.

It looked nasty.

The solid wooden door, soundproof as it was, clearly packed a punch.

Briony took out the ointment and gently dabbed it on his hand.

The suite was silent.

She turned slightly, head bowed as she worked. The light overhead cast a soft

glow over her flawless profile.

Her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks, thick and curled.

Maynard rarely had the chance to study her from this close.

She'd just showered, wearing a soft cotton pajama set in a creamy white that

made her seem especially gentle and serene.