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

It was Phelps.

"Grandpa."

Why don't you come home for the

the edge of the bed, phone pressed to

the holiday is my birthday. Bring Jessica and Henry home, will you? I've been craving

"Alright."

raised Timothy

years ago, their bond had always

the call, Timothy sent a

soup. I don't care where you are right now-you need to be back at The Gilded Whisper Estates

She didn't see the message

years, she'd simply seen him as the stern patriarch of a wealthy family. His strictness never bothered

never dared

she always did her best-showing respect and

picture, Phelps' two major emotional outbursts

his eyes, she was nothing more than

bad the old man's

capable of holding on to Timothy's

Everything was becoming clearer.