Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Lately, Jessica could drive a saint to their breaking point.

The wolf was already at the door, and she still acted like she had no idea how to keep her own child safe-spending every waking minute stirring up trouble for Timothy.

As soon as Sallie left, the room's atmosphere thickened with tension.

Timothy struggled to sit up, propping himself with a pillow behind his back. One arm hooked up to a blood transfusion, the other to an IV drip-every movement slow and deliberate, pain written in every line of his body.

Jessica stood by, arms folded, watching with a frosty detachment.

Once upon a time, she would have been a mess of worry, hovering over him, fussing and fretting, barely able to breathe for all the heartache.

Now, Timothy-pale in his hospital gown but still exuding that unmistakable air of privilege―gestured to the empty spot beside him on the bed. His voice was low, rough, yet gentle. "Come here."

Jessica didn't move. She stayed rooted to the floor, her beautiful face set in cold determination. She raised her hand. "Where's my money?"

Timothy lifted his gaze, his sharp eyes lingering on her. "I'm your man. You show up at the hospital and don't spare a word for how I'm doing, just come for your money?"

back, "You've got plenty of people fussing over you. You don't

she wanted was her money

"So all this drama these past few days-you've just been

wish," she

she had been jealous. Who wouldn't be? When the man you love with your whole heart spends his days thinking of someone else-writing her name over and

eventually, the jealousy faded to numb

given him a chance, wanted to lay everything bare between them. But he hadn't even waited for her to speak-his actions

a command this time. Jessica didn't budge. She repeated

money,"

the empty space

didn't play along, she'd never see that money

over and sat down at

the way, I forgot to say-you look beautiful

pale lavender cardigan draped over her shoulders. Her long, dark hair was loosely braided and