Goodbye, Mr. Regret novel Chapter 181

Lately, Jessica could drive a saint to their breaking point.

The wolf was already at the door, and she still acted like she had no idea how to keep her own child safe—spending every waking minute stirring up trouble for Timothy.

As soon as Sallie left, the room's atmosphere thickened with tension.

Timothy struggled to sit up, propping himself with a pillow behind his back. One arm hooked up to a blood transfusion, the other to an IV drip—every movement slow and deliberate, pain written in every line of his body.

Jessica stood by, arms folded, watching with a frosty detachment.

Once upon a time, she would have been a mess of worry, hovering over him, fussing and fretting, barely able to breathe for all the heartache.

Now, Timothy—pale in his hospital gown but still exuding that unmistakable air of privilege—gestured to the empty spot beside him on the bed. His voice was low, rough, yet gentle. "Come here."

Jessica didn't move. She stayed rooted to the floor, her beautiful face set in cold determination. She raised her hand. "Where's my money?"

Timothy lifted his gaze, his sharp eyes lingering on her. "I'm your man. You show up at the hospital and don't spare a word for how I'm doing, just come for your money?"

She signed back, "You've got plenty of people fussing over you. You don't need me."

All she wanted was her money back.

A faint, mocking smile curved Timothy's lips. "So all this drama these past few days—you've just been jealous?"

"You wish," she signed briskly.

At first, she had been jealous. Who wouldn't be? When the man you love with your whole heart spends his days thinking of someone else—writing her name over and over on paper. What woman wouldn't feel the sting?

But eventually, the jealousy faded to numb disappointment.

She'd given him a chance, wanted to lay everything bare between them. But he hadn't even waited for her to speak—his actions had done all the talking she needed.

Her eyes, usually gentle, now blazed with restless determination.

"Jessica," Timothy murmured, her name a quiet caress, the kind of voice that made your heart skip.

"I'm done fighting with you. When you bit me, I could tell you were angry—you didn't hold back. You've let it all out now. Once I finish these drips, come home with me. I'll give you as much money as you want, alright?"

His tone was so calm and tender, it was as if none of their arguments had ever happened.

Jessica couldn't make sense of this man. His moods shifted like the tide—impossible to predict, unshakeable at his core.

But she no longer had any use for his hollow tenderness.

Before she could answer, he went on, "If you don't like Sheila, I can have her move out. Jessica, come home."