Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Before Timothy had even finished speaking with the family doctor for the Lawsons, his phone buzzed again—this time it was Naylor Lawson, sounding frantic.

"Timothy, you need to get to the hospital, quick! Your grandfather just collapsed!"

Timothy's response was curt. "If he's collapsed, call the doctor. What do you want me to do? I'm not a doctor-I can't treat him."

Without waiting for an answer, he hung up.

On the other end, Naylor glared at the phone in frustration. "That ungrateful brat! Even when his grandfather falls ill, he won't come home!"

Realizing his ruse wasn't working, Phelps opened his eyes and snapped, "You two, think of something! I want Timothy back here now!"

Naylor blinked, confused. "Dad, you're not even unconscious?"

Phelps shot him a glare. "What, disappointed I'm still breathing?"

Timothy won't

grandson- he wasn't sure if it was a

struck Phelps. "Naylor, listen-go to the cemetery and damage

your mind? You want me to vandalize Hannah's grave? What if

mess around with the dead. Some things, it

are you more afraid of Hannah's ghost coming for you at night, or of Timothy ending up in

trouble with the law? No

it."

to give me a stroke? Why else would ask you to touch Hannah's grave? Or do you think by

father's stunt didn't work, there

tell me what else could possibly get Timothy back here right now? If you can't think of

else to don such thing. Resigned, he gathered a few offerings and went to the cemetery himself. Setting them by Hannah's headstone, he fit a candle and whispered a prayer, explaining to Hannah Howard that his

hadn't turned off his phone since he'd powered it on, expecting the family doctor to arrive soon-he'd