Goodbye, Mr. Regret novel Chapter 299

How could someone catch such a bad chill and fall into a feverish coma in just a matter of moments?

Timothy frowned, his brows knitting together.

When Henry saw that his mother was just running a high fever and nothing worse, the worry in his eyes faded. Compared to her, Sheila was in much graver condition.

Jessica was wheeled into a hospital room.

Timothy followed, pausing outside the door to call Mabel.

“Could you bring over a change of clothes for Mrs. Wheeler? She’ll need a full set—inside and out.”

“Of course, sir.”

He stepped quietly into the room and sat by the bedside, reaching out to feel Jessica’s forehead.

Her fever had gone down a little, though she still looked terribly pale and weak.

Was she asleep, or had she simply not yet woken from her delirium?

He gently took her hand, his gaze falling to the bruises ringing her wrist. His heart clenched with guilt.

His fingertips brushed softly over the marks, and the furrow between his brows grew deeper.

There was nothing going on between him and Sheila.

Seven years of marriage—he’d always thought Jessica understood the kind of man he was. He barely spent time with women, and he’d never had any messy entanglements.

When she woke up, he’d set everything straight, explain the truth about Sheila once and for all. He was tired of the endless misunderstandings. It only made both of them miserable.

He’d never tolerate another man hovering around her, either.

He tucked her hand gently beneath the blanket, then pulled out the necklace Herbert had given him from his jacket pocket. He stared at it for a moment, then put it away again.

Whoever dared to compete with him for Jessica was in for a rude awakening. The Wheeler Group needed to be taught a lesson.

“Dad?”

“Dad, she just has a fever. It’s no big deal. Miss Sheila’s hurt way worse.”

Timothy’s face darkened.

“When you were sick, your mother sat up all night, every night, by your bedside. Did she ever say your illness was ‘no big deal’?”

Henry stared at his shoes, twisting the hem of his shirt. “I’m just a kid…”

Timothy’s jaw clenched. Clearly, he hadn’t done a good job raising his son.

This wasn’t the time or place to scold him, but once they were home, they’d be having a serious talk.

Sheila stood just outside the neighboring room, having overheard everything Timothy had said to Henry.

So, in the end, Timothy’s heart still belonged to that mute woman.

She was done playing nice—she’d had enough.