Goodbye, Mr. Regret

All the men Phelps brought were bodyguards employed by the Lawson family; none of them dared lay a hand on Timothy.

As Timothy was about to walk away, Phelps's voice cut through the air, cold and commanding. "What are you all standing around for? He's injured-take him to the hospital!"

After all, Timothy was his own grandson. Phelps couldn't outright order them to restrain him by force-he still had to consider Timothy's pride.

Wealth determined status, both at home and in society.

At this point, even the old man could barely keep Timothy in check. His power was nearly untouchable.

The bodyguards didn't dare use force; they simply blocked Timothy's path and tried to reason with him. "Mr. Lawson, you're hurt. Please, let us take you to the hospital."

"Oh, you want to try your luck?" Timothy's tone was icy. "Even injured, I could still take all of you. Want to find out?”

With a casual air, Timothy tossed aside the iron hammer he'd been holding and loosened his tie, exuding a calm confidence that made the bodyguards even more hesitant to make a move.

No one wanted to be the one to explain this to the old man. One of the bodyguards finally stepped forward and bowed his head. "Forgive us, Mr. Lawson."

"Come at me together, then. Don't waste my time," Timothy snapped.

He was desperate to go after Jessica.

The bodyguards closed in, forming a circle. They all worked for the Lawson family of course they knew how to read the room. There was no way any of them would really fight Timothy.

Not that it mattered-Timothy wouldn't have been afraid even if they had.

martial arts and boxing since

sprawled across the ground in a chaotic

strode away without looking

fumed. "Useless, every one

of-he'd raised his grandson to be the next head of the Lawson family, holding him to the highest standards. Timothy excelled in every

meanwhile, didn't dare make a

still be a force

"You-you're the most useless of them all. Why are you still

"Go where?" Naylor stammered.

do you think!"

beside himself

stormed out of

climbed into his

the driver, "Take me to

open nearly all his wounds, blood soaking through his dress

it back to his penthouse when his phone rang. It was the

anxiously, "your wife

know," Timothy replied, his lips pressed into a thin line. He'd

as much,

ta

.

reason the car was still headed toward the apartment was because

hadn't

Timothy was forced to admit—she