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.

the nightstand

It was Phelps.

"Grandpa."

family visited the old house. Why don't

the edge of the bed, phone pressed to his ear.

birthday. Bring Jessica and Henry home, will you? I've been craving Jessica's chicken

"Alright."

raised Timothy

years ago, their bond

sent a message to

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

already asleep. She didn't see the

him as the stern patriarch of a wealthy

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

best-showing respect

major emotional outbursts had made one thing painfully

his eyes, she was nothing more

old man's plans

was never capable of holding on

Everything was becoming clearer.