Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Timothy hadn't even finished his sentence before Vince tore into him again. "Quit pretending! Do you have any idea how hard it is just to get a film off the ground? How can you barge in at the last minute, right when they're about to succeed? Timothy, I can't believe I never realized you were this kind of person before.”

"It's not what you think," Timothy protested, exasperated but still trying to explain himself. "I saw how tough it's been for Director Carlisle. I saw how much she put into this movie. I just wanted to help, to give them a push, not to ride some wave of publicity. I swear, that's not what I'm doing."

"Oh, now you see how hard it's been for Carlisle? Now you see her hard work? Where was all this concern before? If you're blind, maybe you should get your eyes checked! Who do you think is buying this crap?"

Vince wouldn't hear another word of it. He was fuming, and as soon as he finished venting, he hung up.

Then he transferred two hundred thousand dollars into Timothy's account.

[Take the money and go shopping, ex-husband. Do us both a favor and stay out of the spotlight. You managed to stay hidden for seven years-what's another week? Just hold on a little longer.]

Two hundred grand?

Like that's supposed to mean something?

Seriously?

Who does he think I am?

Who does he think he's humiliating?

Timothy's phone pinged with a notification: two hundred thousand dollars had just hit his account.

text from Vince: Go

throat, his anger

years ago, after he'd transferred two hundred

her a message too: Go

even like

had

knew

told to "go shopping," Timothy felt utterly miserable. Every fiber of his being recoiled at the

her and told her

Timothy's fingers trembled.

could he do to bring her back? What could he possibly do to make

closed his eyes and took

seemed endless, but in a blink, seven years

The next morning.

Phelps called Timothy.

the fourth. What's

don't know,"

scheduled their wedding

spoke to him