Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Sheila froze.

A paternity test? Timothy was doing a paternity test?

But for whom?

Surely not for Henry. Anyone with eyes could see the resemblance-Henry looked so much like Timothy that no test was needed to prove they were father and son.

So who was it for?

Her mind was spinning with questions as she carried a plate of fruit into the living room.

Timothy had just finished his cigarette. He maneuvered his electric wheelchair through the doorway.

"Dad, Mom, have some fruit," he said, rolling up to the dining table.

Sheila glanced at him. He was distracted, eyes glued to his phone, a flicker of excitement playing across his face.

She called out, "Timothy, come have some fruit!”

"I'll pass. I need to head out," he replied, already motioning for the housekeeper to call the driver.

After sharing some fruit with Timothy's parents, Sheila made her own excuse about work and slipped out.

text message—she remembered the hospital's

genetics center. Timothy, being in a wheelchair, would move a little slower, so she figured she wouldn't be far

tore it open in

unreadable look crossed Timothy's face as he stared at

and Vince were

they were only a

mentioned not being her

surely she would've known. It was impossible to

"Timothy."

into

tucking

are you doing here?" he asked, his

that a paternity

her eyes darting back to the envelope. In a low voice, she added, "Timothy, there's no need to doubt Henry. Anyone could tell he's your son. Don't do something

frowned. "You think I'd seriously need a test to know my own son? I'm not that

mistake, I'm sorry, don't be upset," Sheila said quickly, backing away. "I

only deepened Sheila's concern. She headed

need