Goodbye, Mr. Regret

He couldn't afford to back himself into a corner.

So he stepped aside and let her pass.

Jessica swept into the room, her heels clicking against the hardwood. With a sharp bang, she slammed the door

shut behind her.

A wave of helplessness washed over Timothy.

He remembered how easily she'd agreed to marry him all those years ago. Back then, winning her hand had

been effortless. She'd always been so quiet, so undemanding-until she lost her temper. When she did, coaxing

her back was nearly impossible.

Ever since she started this latest argument, he hadn't managed to comfort her, not even once.

The only tshe'd softened was on her birthday, and even then, it lasted just a couple of days before she

stormed out again.

Frustrated and restless, Timothy left The Gilded Whisper Estates and got into his car. He pulled out his phone and

called Yates Bryant.

"Want to get a drink?" Yates chuckled. "Are you out of your mind? It's not dinner, it's not even evening-it's the

middle of the afternoon. Shouldn't we be having tea, not whiskey?"

"I need a drink," Timothy replied.

"Well, | don't," Yates said flatly. "Not in the mood."

"I'm in a lousy mood. Can't you keepcompany, just this once?"

Something in Timothy's voice made it clear he was at a low point.

Yates sighed. "Fine, fine. Since you're about to get dumped, I'll do you a favor and join you."

"Anywhere you want. My treat.”

"How about The Velvet Ivy? I'm nearby."

Timothy instructed his driver to head to The Velvet Ivy. The place was across town, so it took nearly half an hour

to get there. As they neared the entrance, Timothy sent Yates a quick text.

Yates replied that he was already waiting in a private lounge.

When the car pulled up outside The Velvet Ivy, Timothy stepped out-and immediately spotted the Bentley Jessica

had been chasing earlier that day.

So the owner was here, too?

He pulled out his phone and called his assistant, Allen.

"I need you to check a license plate for me," Timothy said, rattling off the numbers.

At the stime, Jessica was messaging Vince, asking him to look into the same

car.

Glancing at the Bentley once more, Timothy ended the call and finally headed inside.

He leaned heavily on his cane as he entered the private suite. Yates glanced up from his seat. "How's the leg?

Any better?"

"It's been twenty days since the surgery. Shouldn't be much longer now."

Thankfully, the injury hadn't been as bad as it could have been. Four to eight weeks on crutches, the doctor said,

but he could hardly wait to walk on his own again.

Yates poured them each a drink. "So, what's got you in such a foul mood?"

"My wife's finally talking," Timothy said with a wry smile. "She's got a sharp

tongue, and honestly, | can't win an argument with her."

It wasn't just that—she actually had a point, and he knew it.

"Wait a second-she can talk? She's not actually mute?"

Timothy nodded. "Strauma when she was a kid. Caused her to stop speaking."

"So, did you find a doctor who could help her?" Yates asked, handing over a glass.

Timothy's face clouded. "No."

"She recovered on her own?"

"Yeah," Timothy said quietly.

Yates raised his glass. "Your leg's not healed yet. Are you sure you should be drinking? Maybe we should just

have a smoke instead."

"I'll just have a little. Helps with the circulation."

Timothy lifted his glass, but before he could take a sip, Yates shook his head. "You're something else, you know

that? She lost her voice for years, married you for seven, and you never once took her to see a doctor. That's

cold, man."

"| called you to have a drink, to helpforget my troubles. Why are you rubbing salt in the wound?"

Yates arched an eyebrow. "Hey, the truth hurts. That's why no one likes hearing it. We've known each other

forever, I'm not here to sugarcoat things and make you feel better. There are plenty of people who'll do that. But

nice words won't solve your problems, will they?"

He clinked his glass against Timothy's and took a slow sip.

"You're right," Timothy admitted after a moment. "You've got perspective. Tell me, what can | do to make her

cback?"

Yates looked him up and down. "You want the truth or the kind lie?"

"No kidding," Timothy grumbled. "Of course | want the truth."

"Alright, then. Put yourself in her shoes. If you were her, would you cback?"

Jessica had said something similar earlier. If the situation were reversed-if she took Herbert out and someone

mistook her for Henry's mother, and she didn't bother to clear it up-could he really blher for being upset?

"You're the one with experience, man. Helpout here."

"Don't givethat. I've only ever dated one person-I'm hardly an expert," Yates scoffed. "Honestly, Timothy, if |

were your wife, | wouldn't cback either, not after everything you've done."

"What have | done? You're supposed to be my friend. Why are you all siding with her?"

Timothy downed half his drink in frustration.

"It's not about sides. You took your

son and played happy family with Sheila for years. After the divorce, you finally married the woman you couldn't

have before. That's what most guys dream about-marrying the one who always felt out of reach. This should be

your chance at happiness. Why torture yourself trying to win back someone you drove away?"

Timothy narrowed his eyes at Yates. If he didn't know better, he'd suspect Yates had figured out Jessica wasz

really Salome, the woman he'd

chasing after for years. Yates.en

seemed to be rooting for Jessica at every turn, as if he wanted her to leave for good.

“I'm done drinking. This is pointless."

Timothy set his glass aside.

"Oh, so now you don't want to hear the truth. Letask you do you love Sheila

or your wife?"

Timothy was silent for a long moment.

"Can't even answer that, can you?" Yates said with a shake of his head.

"It's not that | don't know," Timothy replied quietly. "But love isn't something you

talk about all day long. No point in discussing it with you. I'm leaving."

He grabbed his cane and moved to the door. The moment he swung it open, he caught sight of Vince and

Jessica's figures disappearing down the hallway.