Goodbye, Mr. Regret

A nurse wheeled Timothy down the hall toward his room, with Naylor hurrying right behind. Secretary Allen stepped forward to steady Phelps, guiding him in the same direction.

"When did he end up in another accident?" Phelps asked, his voice tense.

"A few days ago," Allen replied truthfully. He'd only discovered Timothy was hospitalized when he came by to get his signature on some important documents.

"Do you know how it happened?"

"Not exactly. I didn't dare ask too much."

Phelps let out a frustrated sigh, his brow furrowing deeper. He pressed on, asking what had happened that evening.

Allen recounted everything as it had happened, then handed over Timothy's phone. Blood had dried in streaks along the screen, and the display was frozen on a photo. Phelps tapped to see it more clearly, realizing it had been opened from Vince's social media feed.

anyone-she was Salome. So Timothy had always kept a place

so shaken by a single photograph of his wife that he'd collapse from the stress?" Allen asked, careful

his mother, and she'd always try to share hers-every winter, when they built

up blood-all over a photograph? But deep down, Allen knew President Lawson still cared for her. He remembered that stormy

have to take an urgent call. I'll be back

worry about us. We'll

hurried to the end of the hallway and dialed

the last time they shouldn't have any more contact. Still, she wasn't the kind to blame others unfairly. Secretary Allen was just Timothy's assistant;

for her to say hello

filed for divorce with him. There's just two weeks left in the cooling-off period before it's final. He's agreed to everything. As far as I'm O concerned, we're already finished. Whatever happens to him-hospitalization,