Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Timothy's gaze was dark and unreadable as he stared at her.

A heartbeat later, he grabbed her hand and led her firmly down the hallway.

They rode the elevator in silence, straight to the top floor.

Jessica let herself be pulled along, passive, until they entered the penthouse suite.

Once inside, Timothy pressed her gently down onto the sofa. He crouched in front of her, eyes intense. "Why haven't you been answering your phone?"

His voice was low and a little rough around the edges.

Jessica looked down at him—a man in a perfectly tailored suit, always so composed and charismatic, effortlessly charming. Once, she'd found that impossible to resist.

Now, she had no desire left to love him.

She raised her hand, voice flat. "Didn't feel like it."

An unmistakable shadow of annoyance flickered in Timothy's dark eyes.

"You never used to act like this."

through the air. "Like

you're really set on this

baritone had a hard edge,

scene," she answered

hair in frustration. He paced the luxurious carpet, then crouched again in front of her. He removed her mask and sunhat, setting them

don't see what's wrong between us," he said, jaw tight. "Seven years of marriage—we've

his jacket, Timothy pulled out a velvet box, flipped

flight was delayed. When I finally got your call for help, I—" Timothy stopped. He didn't say that he'd rushed to her side, only to arrive too late. That he'd tried his best, and didn't feel

Surely, she wouldn't hold a petty

wasn't there for you. That's on me. But

voice was gentle,

gave him

brooches for Sheila-twenty-three of them in total. Today, Sheila wore one; the rest, no doubt, were

Jessica one of

over.

legal wife. Was this what she was worth to him? Only what was