Goodbye, Mr. Regret novel Chapter 311

If she refused to give Sheila any credit, then in Sallie’s eyes, Sheila was nothing at all.

As she spoke, Sallie pulled out her phone. Panic flashed across Sheila’s face—she scrambled up and rushed to hide behind Timothy, her voice trembling with hurt as she pleaded, “Timothy, you were drunk. It was you… you’re the one who…”

Sheila’s eyes shone with unshed tears.

Years ago, Sheila was the child Sallie’s grandparents had adopted. The old couple doted on her, and when they were little, Sallie and Sheila had gotten along well enough.

But as they grew older, things changed. Sheila knew perfectly well about their family connection, yet she still got tangled up with Timothy. Sallie’s resentment grew with every passing year.

Sheila had spent the last seven years abroad, living a comfortable life while Timothy settled down, got married, and had a son. Everything was finally as the family wanted—until Sheila unexpectedly returned home.

Just last week, Sallie’s grandfather had assured her that nothing would ever happen between Sheila and Timothy, that she had nothing to worry about.

How could she not worry, when they were practically on the verge of sleeping together?

Clutching her phone, Sallie was determined to catch Sheila running to their grandfather with complaints. Timothy, forcing himself to stand despite his weakness, remembered that he’d been the one to cross the line with Sheila—and now she was catching hell for it. His voice was low and hoarse: “Put the phone away. This has nothing to do with her.”

He’d been drunk, mistaking Sheila for Jessy.

Timothy pulled Sheila behind him, shielding her.

Sallie’s embarrassment flared into anger. “You’re still defending her?”

“Go close the window,” Timothy said coldly. “Once you’re done, drive me home.”

He had to leave. He felt like he was coming apart at the seams.

He needed Jessy.

While Sallie stomped off to close the window, Timothy fought to stay conscious, his mind foggy. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’ll explain everything later.”

He was a young man with blood running hot; he told himself he’d only ended up in this mess because it had been too long since he’d had any kind of release from Jessica, and tonight’s drinks had only made it worse.

When Sallie came out of the bedroom, she grabbed Timothy’s arm, shooting Sheila a cold, suspicious look.

Why was Sheila even here, dressed like that? Did she live here now?

Sallie caught the sharp scent of liquor on Timothy. He was clearly drunk—she didn’t have time to fight with Sheila tonight. She’d deal with her tomorrow.

She hauled Timothy out to the car and sped off toward The Gilded Whisper Estates.

Once home, Timothy hurried to the master bedroom, calling softly, “Jessy?”

He needed to see Jessy—immediately. The memory of how close he’d just been to Sheila, how he’d almost kissed her, made his jaw clench.

Timothy stalked to the bathroom, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Cold water thundered over his skin, only barely soothing the desire gnawing at him, ready to boil over at any moment.

He forced himself to wash up and change clothes, summoning all his willpower to keep it together. Then he had the driver take him straight to Jessica’s apartment.

Jessica had already packed her bags.

A heavy, insistent pounding rattled the front door.

She knew—of course—there was only one person it could be.

She wanted nothing to do with him.

“Jessy, if you don’t open up, I’m coming in.”

Annoyed, Jessica finally strode over; she knew if she didn’t face him, he’d just use the Wheeler Group as leverage against her again.

The moment she opened the door, Timothy—eyes bloodshot and wild—forced his way inside. He pressed her back against the door, and without a word, kissed her with reckless, desperate abandon.