Goodbye, Mr. Regret

"The press claims they've spotted your mysterious wife..."

Timothy paused, a flicker of something complicated in his sharp eyes.

He was no longer the same Timothy who'd grown up alongside her. Years of navigating the business world had left him more composed, more inscrutable than

ever.

Sheila realized she could no longer read him the way she once did.

After a moment, he finally replied, his voice even. "It doesn't matter."

Sheila blinked, momentarily thrown. Did he really not care at all?

She tried again, gently. "But Jessica is your wife."

"She has the marriage certificate. If that piece of paper can't give her peace of mind, then she's being rather foolish, isn't she?"

Sheila hesitated, thinking it over. "Alright then. I just didn't want her to overthink. That's all I wanted to say. You should get some rest."

"Mm."

Timothy said nothing more, and Sheila quietly left the room.

He lit a cigarette, his gaze falling to the velvet box on the table. Rising, he tucked the box away in his suitcase.

Just then, his phone rang.

nightstand and picked

It was Phelps.

"Grandpa."

it's been ages since your family visited the old house. Why

the bed, phone

last day of the holiday is my birthday. Bring Jessica

"Alright."

raised

one falling-out seven years ago,

sent

birthday. He wants your chicken soup. I don't care where you are right now-you

already asleep. She didn't see the message until the next morning.

she'd simply seen him as the stern patriarch of a wealthy

background was worlds apart from Timothy's. She'd never dared hope the Lawson family

Mrs. Lawson, she always did her best-showing respect and patience to

two major emotional outbursts had made one thing painfully

nothing more than a tool to tie

old man's plans had

was never capable of holding on to Timothy's

Everything was becoming clearer.