Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Timothy hadn't even finished his sentence before Vince tore into him again. "Quit pretending! Do you have any idea how hard it is just to get a film off the ground? How can you barge in at the last minute, right when they're about to succeed? Timothy, I can't believe I never realized you were this kind of person before.”

"It's not what you think," Timothy protested, exasperated but still trying to explain himself. "I saw how tough it's been for Director Carlisle. I saw how much she put into this movie. I just wanted to help, to give them a push, not to ride some wave of publicity. I swear, that's not what I'm doing."

"Oh, now you see how hard it's been for Carlisle? Now you see her hard work? Where was all this concern before? If you're blind, maybe you should get your eyes checked! Who do you think is buying this crap?"

Vince wouldn't hear another word of it. He was fuming, and as soon as he finished venting, he hung up.

Then he transferred two hundred thousand dollars into Timothy's account.

[Take the money and go shopping, ex-husband. Do us both a favor and stay out of the spotlight. You managed to stay hidden for seven years-what's another week? Just hold on a little longer.]

Two hundred grand?

Like that's supposed to mean something?

Seriously?

Who does he think I am?

Who does he think he's humiliating?

Timothy's phone pinged with a notification: two hundred thousand dollars had just hit his account.

A follow-up text from Vince: Go shopping.

Timothy felt a lump in his throat, his anger burning a hole in his gut.

Suddenly, he remembered years ago, after he'd transferred two hundred grand

to Jessica, he'd sent her a message too: Go shopping.

Did she even like shopping?

He honestly had no idea.

But he knew he didn't.

Now, being told to "go shopping," Timothy felt utterly miserable. Every fiber of his being recoiled at the thought.

Was this how Jessica felt, back then? When he had tossed money at her and told her to go have fun, did she feel as awful as he did right now?

Timothy's fingers trembled.

What could he do to bring her back? What could he possibly do to make up for seven years of cold indifference?

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Time seemed endless, but in a blink, seven years had passed...

The next morning.

Phelps called Timothy.

"Henry's birthday is on the fourth. What's your plan?"

"I don't know," Timothy answered, overwhelmed.

He'd scheduled their wedding for Henry's birthday.

Jessica barely spoke to him anymore-she was ice cold.

The fourth was also the premiere of Jessica's film. Would she come back for it?

From what Timothy could tell, she'd simply supported the movie, never really pushing to make it some breakout hit. That was her way: get the job done, but never obsess over the outcome.

So maybe she wouldn't come back at all.

"Try something," Phelps urged. "You've been married seven years. Like it or not, you're part of her life don't believe she doesn't care about her own son. Every year, she's gone all out for Henry's birthday. Why don't you take charge this year-plan something and invite her?"

Timothy doubted Jessica would come, but he still managed a "Sure."noveldrama

Maybe. Maybe she couldn't bear to leave Henry behind, after all.

He decided to turn the wedding he'd planned into a birthday party for Henry.

Last time, he'd taken Jessica to Bali, hoping to keep her there for the wedding. But she insisted on coming back, so he'd told Secretary Allen to move everything back to Riverside City.

He needed to find a way to bring her home.

He was determined—this lifetime, he was going to marry her, even if the marriage lasted only a day.

Timothy sent a copy of their

marriage certificate photo to Secretary Allen, asking him to print

out more, in small, round frames. He also told Allen to bring over @box of birthday invitations.