Goodbye, Mr. Regret novel Chapter 422

Linn gazed at the paper for a while before finally saying, “I don’t remember. It was too long ago.”

“Alright. You can go,” Timothy replied, his tone flat.

As soon as Linn left, Timothy was about to feed the sheet of paper into the shredder when Jessica’s words flashed through his mind: how she’d found him at home, scribbling Sheila’s name over and over on the page.

That was how she’d discovered their affair.

Was it because of this piece of paper?

Timothy stared at the paper, then maneuvered his wheelchair to the master bedroom and knocked softly.

Jessica opened the door, her gaze immediately falling on the paper in his hand, its surface covered in Sheila’s name.

“Was this the one you saw?” he asked.

Jessica remained silent.

“It’s not what you think,” Timothy explained patiently. “She asked me to help design her signature. The page just has a bunch of fonts and styles—nothing more.”

He tried to keep his voice calm. “There’s nothing between us—not like you think. I—”

The door shut sharply with a thud.

Jessica didn’t want to hear it.

Whatever was broken between them couldn’t be fixed with explanations. Even if he was telling the truth, did it matter anymore? Everything was in the past. It was too late.

Timothy sat in the hallway, utterly lost. He’d tried to clear things up. She’d misunderstood, and he’d tried to explain, but she shut him out all the same.

What did she want from him? Was divorce the only answer?

He wheeled himself back to the study, grabbed the wedding planner’s brochure, and picked out a ceremony he thought she would like.

He’d said before he wanted to make things right. He meant it—even if their marriage was ending, he still owed her a proper wedding.

After making his choice, Timothy called Secretary Allen and instructed him to start arranging the ceremony.

Allen was utterly confused. Mrs. Lawson had been pushing for a divorce for weeks. Even if Mr. Lawson managed to organize the wedding, it was unlikely she’d attend. And the deadline was tight—Henry Lawson’s birthday was less than three weeks away.

Meanwhile, Jessica sat at her desk, staring at the necklace she’d just set beside her laptop, lost in the swirl of Timothy’s explanation. A tangled mess of emotions churned inside her.

She didn’t need him trying to make nice with her. She didn’t need any of this. Every gesture, every attempt, only made her feel more trapped.

Unable to bear the suffocating atmosphere a moment longer, Jessica grabbed her purse and left the house.

Outside the villa, she flagged down a cab. As soon as she got in, she texted Sheila.

[Can we meet?]

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