Goodbye, Mr. Regret

"Mr. Lawson."

Timothy's voice was cool and detached. "Check the balance on the card I gave to my wife. How much is left?"

"One moment, sir."

A brief silence. Then Secretary Allen spoke up. "Twelve million."

Timothy's brow furrowed. Twelve million wasn't much by his standards. If Jessica wanted to return to a normal life, that sum would be more than enough for an ordinary person to live comfortably for the rest of her days.

But she was Timothy's woman. How could she settle for an ordinary life?

"Freeze the card."

His words were cold as ice.

Secretary Allen hesitated, caught off guard, but knew better than to ask questions. "Understood. I'll do it right away."

"And look into what happened at the Wheeler Group."

With that, Timothy ended the call.

He strode across the room to the balcony, his long legs carrying him to the glass doors. He lit a cigarette, exhaling slowly into the night.

Outside, darkness pressed in, thick as velvet.

curl upward, a peculiar emptiness settling over him. This house, this life-so many years of stability, almost

feeling well that day. As soon as she

she

forehead and back were

of that fire, the one

the dream, her heart had been knotted with fear-afraid Timothy would be hurt, afraid

she could still feel the lingering

from this day

remember she

had no choice but to go out

Once she was sure Timothy wouldn't take revenge on them,

out two simple outfits, then handed her

through the reader.

Transaction failed.

flashed:

this card for seven years. She'd been using it

this card isn't working. Do you have

set the clothes down and typed on her phone, asking the

once more. Still, the reader flashed the same

bitter little smile tugged at her

belonged

enough for a shopping spree. Not long after, he'd transferred another two hundred thousand,

was worried she'd be bored at home, so he