Secretly Married for 4 Years, He Regrets to Tears After the Divorce

Chapter 268: Chapter 268: Take This Money and Leave My Son

A bad feeling suddenly washed over Wren Sutton.

"You two are dating. This is huge. Why haven’t you told him, Isla?"

Isla Griffith fell silent.

After a long pause, she finally spoke, her words halting. "My mind is a mess right now. His mother came to see me a few days ago..."

She seemed unable to continue, letting out a choked gasp.

Wren asked, her heart aching for her friend, "Are you at home right now?"

"Yes."

"Wait for me. Don’t go anywhere. I’m on my way."

Wren hung up. The brief silence in the car drew the attention of her family, including Adrian Lancaster.

Mrs. Sutton was the first to speak. "What happened, Nina? It sounded like Isla on the phone."

Wren didn’t hide it. "Yeah, it was Isla. Something’s happened, and she’s not doing well. I need to go see her right away."

Concern clouded Mrs. Sutton’s face. "What is it? Is it serious?"

The situation was still unclear, so Wren kept her friend’s confidence. "I don’t know the specifics yet."

"Then you should hurry over and check on her," Mrs. Sutton said. "Help her talk things through."

"Okay."

Wren quickly told the driver to change course and head to her friend’s house first.

Then, she turned to Adrian. "You take the child to my parents’ place."

"Of course," Adrian readily agreed. "I’ll take care of the child. You go do what you need to do. Just let me know when you’re done, and I’ll come pick you up."

"Okay."

The car entered the city and drove straight toward the residential complex where Isla Griffith lived.

When they arrived, Wren hurried out of the car. Mrs. Sutton didn’t forget to roll down the window to add a final word.

"Nina, comfort Isla, and if you need anything, just call home."

"I know, Mom. You guys head back now." Wren waved and turned, walking quickly into the building.

The numbers of the climbing elevator ticked by in the silence, each one landing like a heavy blow on Wren’s heart.

Her hurried footsteps echoed clearly in the empty hallway, carrying an irrepressible sense of anxiety.

She reached the familiar door and rang the bell.

The wait was both brief and agonizingly long.

The door opened. Isla Griffith was standing in the shadows behind it.

The curtains in the room were drawn tight, completely blocking out the light. A dim gloom shrouded everything.

The once-soft loungewear Isla wore was now a wrinkled mess. Her long hair had lost its shine and lay tangled over her shoulders.

Her face was pale, utterly devoid of color. Her lips were dry and peeling, and her eyes were terribly swollen. Dark, bruised circles that wouldn’t fade lay heavy beneath them.

She looked like a plant that had been deprived of water, slowly withering away.

Wren’s heart clenched. She took a step forward, closed the door behind her, and shut out the outside world for a moment.

She said nothing, simply opening her arms and pulling the trembling figure into a tight embrace.

Isla’s body went limp against her shoulder. Her lips moved, but only a faint, broken, raspy sound escaped. Her eyes instantly filled with tears, ready to spill over.

"Have you eaten?" Wren released her. Her voice was soft, but it carried an undeniable sense of purpose.

She walked straight into the living room and, with a sharp PULL, yanked open the curtains.

In an instant, a flood of sunlight poured in, violently tearing through the gloom and silence that filled the room. Tiny dust motes danced frantically in the beams of light.

The sudden brightness made Isla, who was curled up in the corner of the sofa, flinch. She instinctively raised an arm to shield her eyes and buried her face deeper into a cushion.

Her voice was muffled and thick with congestion. "I’m not hungry."

Wren didn’t reply, simply turning and heading for the kitchen.

She opened the refrigerator door, and a blast of cold air hit her face.

There was hardly anything inside—just a few eggs, some cartons of yogurt nearing their expiration date, and a few packets of the most basic instant noodles.

Without hesitation, Wren quickly turned on the stove, fried an egg, and started boiling the noodles.

In just a few minutes, a steaming hot bowl of noodles was ready.

A fried egg, crispy around the edges with a runny yolk, sat on top of the noodles, wisps of steam rising from it.

Wren carried the bowl to the sofa, placing it and a pair of chopsticks into Isla’s hands. Her tone was calm but firm.

"No matter what happens, you have to take care of your body. You need to eat to have the strength to solve your problems."

Isla lifted her swollen eyes, looked at the simple but steaming bowl of noodles, and slowly reached out to take the chopsticks.

She ate very slowly, as if every bite took all her strength. In the end, she managed to eat most of the bowl.

Wren handed her a glass of lukewarm water and then sat down quietly beside her.

No rushing, no excessive questions. She just waited, quiet and patient.

This silent companionship gave Isla the strength to speak.

She suddenly buried her face in the already damp cushion, and her stifled whimpers broke through her throat, turning into uncontrollable sobs.

Her thin shoulders trembled violently, as if she were trying to cry her very soul out.

Wren reached out, gently pulling her close so Isla’s forehead could rest against her shoulder.

With her other hand, she patted Isla’s back in a slow, steady rhythm, letting the hot tears quickly soak the fabric of her own shoulder.

Time trickled by amidst the sounds of whimpers and sobs.

After what felt like an eternity, the heart-wrenching crying finally subsided, turning into intermittent, exhausted hitches of breath.

"I tested three times," Isla’s voice was terribly hoarse and heavy with tears. "Each time, it was two clear lines."

"The night before he left Aston with the search and rescue team, we..."

"We used protection. I never thought I could get pregnant."

"No method of contraception is one hundred percent effective," Wren said evenly, stating a simple fact.

"This isn’t entirely your fault."

But Isla closed her eyes in regret, and another tear slid down her cheek.

"It’s still my fault for being careless."

Wren looked at her friend’s pale, fragile profile and asked the most crucial question directly. "What are you planning to do now?"

"I don’t know." Isla shook her head, her eyes filled with confusion.

"My mind is a complete blank. I can’t think straight. I don’t even dare to think about it."

"Why not tell Sean Sterling?" Wren cut straight to the point. "You two are a proper couple. You’re pregnant; he has a responsibility."

A deeper pain and struggle flashed in Isla’s eyes.

"I thought about telling him, but... just a few days ago, his mother came to see me. Alone."

Wren’s heart sank, and her expression grew solemn.

She remembered how Isla had told her, with a hint of shyness and relief, that Sean had taken her to meet the Sterling family. His parents had been polite but distant, but at least they hadn’t given her a hard time on the surface.

"Didn’t you say last time that his family was reasonably polite to you?"

Isla twisted her lips into a self-deprecating smile that was uglier than tears.

"That was because Sean was there. The moment he stepped out of the living room, the way his mother looked at me completely changed."

"That politeness was made of ice. It shattered at the slightest touch, revealing nothing but distance and scrutiny underneath."

"A few days ago, his mother asked to meet me alone at a very private teahouse."

Isla’s voice was soft, but it trembled distinctly, as if she were reliving that suffocating moment.

"His mother was dressed in a couture suit, decked out in jewels from head to toe. And me..."

"She didn’t bother with pleasantries or beat around the bush. She went straight to the point, pulling a check from her expensive crocodile leather handbag and sliding it in front of me."

"Then, in a calm, unruffled tone, as if handling some trivial business matter, she said to me, ’Ms. Griffith, please take this money and leave my son.’"

Tears rolled silently down her cheeks, but Isla didn’t seem to notice. She just mechanically repeated the words that had been seared into her mind.

"She said, ’The future mistress of the Sterling family must be their social equal, someone who can bring her son sufficient support and prestige.’"

"’Love is nothing more than a fleeting impulse and fantasy of the young,’ she said. ’You’re a smart girl. You should understand which choice is best for you.’"

"’Don’t harbor any unrealistic fantasies. That would only waste your time, and waste Sean’s time as well.’"

"After she finished speaking, she picked up her bone china teacup, took a delicate sip, and looked at me. I still remember her gaze."

"There was no disgust, no anger—just a lofty, condescending indifference."