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.

to the nightstand

It was Phelps.

"Grandpa."

Why

back on the edge of the bed, phone

of the holiday is my birthday. Bring Jessica and Henry home, will you?

"Alright."

raised Timothy

one falling-out seven years ago, their bond

the call, Timothy sent a

is Grandpa's birthday. He wants your chicken soup. I don't care where you are right now-you need to be back at The Gilded Whisper Estates by the evening

see the message until

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

from Timothy's. She'd never dared hope the Lawson family would truly accept

her best-showing

Sheila entered the picture, Phelps' two major emotional outbursts

his eyes, she was nothing more than

bad the old

never capable of holding on to Timothy's

Everything was becoming clearer.