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.

the hospital's name was in

way to the genetics center. Timothy, being in a wheelchair, would move a little slower, so she figured she wouldn't be far behind. Sure enough, as she entered

it open in a hurry, his

tight, unreadable look crossed Timothy's face as he stared at the

Vince

they were only a

being

known. It was

"Timothy."

stepped into the

quickly tucking the report out

here?" he asked,

glanced at the papers in his hand. "Is that a paternity

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

I'd seriously need a test

upset," Sheila said quickly, backing away. "I should go—my friend's waiting for

whose test it was, which only deepened Sheila's concern. She headed

would need a paternity test