Goodbye, Mr. Regret novel Chapter 330

Just as Phelps had predicted, Timothy could turn a blind eye to almost anything—but not this.

“I understand. I’ll be there right away.”

Naylor let out a sigh of relief. He still didn’t know what crime Timothy had committed to land himself in jail, but after hanging up, he immediately called Phelps.

Phelps wasted no time, bringing a group along to wait for Timothy.

Before leaving, Timothy instructed the female doctor to take good care of Jessica. Leaning in close, he murmured to her, “I have something to take care of, but I’ll be back soon. There’s still so much I need to tell you. Wait for me.”

He gave her a long, searching look before turning to leave.

Jessica’s throat still burned painfully; she didn’t protest as the doctor examined her.

The woman was here at Timothy’s request. He didn’t know about her cancer—Jessica had told him she’d coughed up blood, and presumably, that was the story he’d given the doctor as well.

So the doctor checked her throat carefully.

Jessica remembered all too well how, just two nights ago, her vocal cords had vibrated violently. Time and again, somewhere deep inside, she’d wanted to scream out in protest, but…

Herbert had warned her not to rush her recovery, to take things slow. Her vocal cords had been unused for too long; she couldn’t afford to strain them.

After a thorough look, the doctor frowned. “The lining of your throat is badly inflamed. There’s swelling around the vocal cords. I need to give you an anti-inflammatory shot.”

She put away the laryngoscope and peeled off her gloves, continuing, “You’ll also need some oral and topical medication. I didn’t bring one of the medicines you’ll need, but there’s a pharmacy nearby. Wait here for me—I’ll be back soon.”

Jessica nodded.

As soon as the doctor stepped out, Jessica slipped quietly after her and left as well.

She ducked into a narrow alley and sent a message to Vince.

Vince’s hands shook when he saw her text.

Naylor shifted uneasily under his son’s intense stare. Timothy had always been formidable—his presence alone was enough to make even his own father feel small.

“What brings you here all of a sudden today?” Timothy’s tone was hard, unmistakably accusatory.

“I… I—I dreamed about your mother last night, so I wanted to come see her. I never expected… this,” Naylor stammered, eyes darting away.

Timothy glanced down and noticed a fresh cut on Naylor’s finger. He immediately grabbed Naylor’s hand. “How did you hurt yourself?”

Naylor’s anxiety spiked, and he blurted out a lie. “I saw the headstone was broken, reached out to touch it, and accidentally cut myself.”

Timothy’s lips curled into a cold, skeptical smile. Without another word, he strode over to the grass, picked up the sledgehammer, and held it up.

Naylor nearly covered his eyes in panic—he’d been found out so quickly.

And in the next moment, a crowd emerged from the shadows, surrounding Timothy on all sides.