Goodbye, Mr. Regret

How could someone catch such a bad chill and fall into a feverish coma in just a matter of moments?

Timothy frowned, his brows knitting together.

When Henry saw that his mother was just running a high fever and nothing worse,

the worry in his eyes faded. Compared to her, Sheila was in much graver

condition.

Jessica was wheeled into a hospital room.

Timothy followed, pausing outside the door to call Mabel.

"Could you bring over a change of clothes for Mrs. Wheeler? She'll need a full set -inside and out."

"Of course, sir."

He stepped quietly into the room and sat by the bedside, reaching out to feel Jessica's forehead.

Her fever had gone down a little, though she still looked terribly pale and weak.

Was she asleep, or had she simply not yet woken from her delirium?

He gently took her hand, his gaze falling to the bruises ringing her wrist. His heart clenched with guilt.

brushed softly over the marks, and the furrow between his brows grew

on between him

of marriage-he'd always thought Jessica understood the kind of man he was. He barely spent time with women, and

once and for all. He was tired of the endless misunderstandings. It only made both of them

another man hovering around

her hand gently beneath the blanket, then pulled out the necklace Herbert had given him from his jacket pocket. He stared at it for a moment, then put it

him for Jessica was in for a rude awakening. The Wheeler Group needed to be taught a

"Dad?"

Henry entered, calling softly.

him, and lowered his

the bed. It's just a fever, isn't it? Why was Dad acting

head wound had reopened and was bleeding badly-she

Mom's

warmed up to her. Sheila had tried to apologize, tried to make nice when she

of surgery. She's next

would disturb Jessica, took Henry

the hallway, softly closing the door

moment the latch clicked,

had already woken her. Timothy had only pretended to

The second

he rushed off to see her.