Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Henry felt even more wronged. He was six years old now-old enough to

understand what was happening. He knew the old man was his great-grandfather, but it was clear the feeling wasn't mutual. His great-grandfather barely tolerated him, much like his mother.

The thought of what had just happened stung: when his mother heard his voice on the phone, she hung up on him without a second thought. A wave of fear crashed over Henry as he realized he might soon be a child without a mother. His cries burst out, loud and desperate.

Phelps hurried to scoop him up, trying to soothe him while glancing anxiously at Larkin. "Look, now you've scared the boy half to death," he said. “Let's talk about this later."

"Oh, what's the point?" Larkin snapped. "If your whole Lawson family keeps pushing me, I'll just take Jessy and get Salome new papers. Then we'll be done with the Lawsons for good!"

With that, Larkin stormed off, still seething.

Meanwhile, Henry's sobs only grew louder as he called out for his mother, unable to accept the idea that she might abandon him. Phelps and Naylor triednoveldrama

everything they could think of to comfort him, but nothing worked. In the end, they had no choice but to call Timothy.

But Timothy's line was busy.

Over at the office, Secretary Allen was trying to reach him. "President Lawson, I've found the information. I'll send you the documents right away."

Allen hung up and forwarded the bank statements to Timothy's phone.

Timothy tapped the images open, his eyes narrowing as he read through the list of transactions. Not a cent had been spent on herself-not on shopping or personal indulgences. Starting five years ago, the money had been transferred, in batches, directly into Carlisle's bank account.

There were other small payments too: a hundred thousand for Mabel, thirty thousand for Linn, twenty-eight thousand for Galen the driver, forty-three thousand for Karin... Every one of them was a member of their household staff.

And there were frequent, if modest, donations to local charities: scholarships for deaf and disabled students, emergency relief funds for those with disabilities... Timothy's lips trembled as he realized the truth. He hurried outside the villa and called out, "Mabel!"

Mabel hurried over. "Sir, is everything alright? What do you need?"

"Gather everyone in the house. Now."

Within five minutes, all the staff were assembled in the living room.

Timothy stood before them. "Has my wife ever given you money?"

Mabel was the first to speak up. "Yes, sir. She has. If you want it back, I can return it right away. My husband was hospitalized last year and we didn't have enough to pay the bills. She gave us a hundred thousand. I tried to repay her, but she wouldn't take it."

“My son got into college, but we couldn't cover the tuition. She gave us forty thousand," said another.

"My wife was in a car accident and needed surgery. She gave us twenty-eight thousand right when we needed it most," added the driver.

One by one, they all shared similar stories-each had faced a crisis, and each time, she had quietly stepped in to help, never touching the household funds but instead using the two million Timothy sent every time he asked her to keep her distance.

So that's where the money went. That's how she lived.

No wonder she never wasted anything. She always said that waste squandered one's blessings, and she called Timothy a man blessed with good fortune- someone who'd achieved so much so young. She told him to cherish what he had.

As his wife, she'd taken care of the home so well that he'd never had to worry. He could focus on his career, confident that everything was safe and comfortable at home. All his peace and success-he realized now-wasn't just his own doing. It was her, silently bearing the weight behind the scenes.

Timothy staggered, nearly losing his balance. Mabel and Sage rushed forward to steady him.

Clutching his aching chest, Timothy looked at Mabel. "She never asked for any of that money back, and neither will I. Please, could you call her for me?"