Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Jessica typed a quick message on her phone.

"I'll make my own arrangements. There's no need for you to worry."

Phelps glanced at the screen, then looked up at her, his gaze lingering.

"I remember Timothy made you sign a prenup. If you divorce him, you won't get a dime. You've been married to him, what, seven years now? A woman only has so many sets of seven years in her life. Are you really willing to let them slip by?"

A woman only has so many sets of seven years.

If she lived long enough, maybe there'd be another seven years. But this was her last. She'd spent her final seven years on Timothy.

Seven years ago, Timothy wanted to marry her. She'd been so happy, floating through life on a cloud. Even signing the prenup hadn't bothered her. She wanted love. She wanted Timothy. Nothing else mattered.

Looking back now, it all seemed absurd.

She replied to Phelps.

"A bet's a bet. Loser pays the price."

"And what makes you so sure you'll lose? Ever since Sheila showed up, have you ever tried fighting for him?"

Phelps wasn't beating around the bush anymore, just laying it all out—Sheila and Timothy were involved.

Jessica gave a helpless little smile.

years. I already know the

phone up for Phelps

up and

out and

Henry's medication from her purse and pressed it into

Henry's meds. Make sure he takes them on time,

had left, Jessica

medicine. She realized it was for Henry and said, "Ma'am, you're usually the one

studied her for

I'll make

this sort of thing was usually the housekeeper's job. Mabel wasn't shirking her

to

went back to her paper-cutting project-just a small section left. Once she finished, she

snacks, took his medicine, and then fell

of

at him. "Hungry,

Mom? Why isn't

be busy