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.

training in martial arts and boxing since he was a

across the ground in a

strode away without

"Useless, every one of

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

didn't dare

own son had started a successful business at eighteen. Even without the Lawson name, Timothy would still be a force to reckon with in the business world.

shot him a glare. "You-you're the most useless of them all. Why

"Go where?" Naylor stammered.

you think!"

beside himself

He stormed

climbed into his

driver, "Take me

Timothy's scuffle had torn open nearly all his wounds, blood soaking through his dress

to his penthouse

anxiously,

lips pressed

as much, so he

lle ta thin line. He'd

.

toward the apartment was because he was holding

hadn't really

to admit—she truly wanted