Goodbye, Mr. Regret

The memory of Timothy tying her wrists, of how he'd forced himself on her, made Vince's heart clench with a violent ache. He strode out of his office, barely able to breathe.

Marquis hurried after him, matching his pace as they rushed to Jessica's small apartment.

The front door wasn't locked. They pushed it open and hurried inside.

The bedroom door stood ajar. Vince almost burst through it.

The sight that greeted him nearly shattered him.

There was a heavy, unmistakable scent in the air. He was a man-he knew exactly what it meant.

Timothy's clothes were scattered across the floor. The bed sheets were tangled and torn.

Timothy lay on the bed, shirtless, his dress pants hanging loosely off his hips. Even now, he slept as if nothing had happened.

Marquis immediately turned away, retreating from the room, unable to look any longer.

Vince's hands shook as he unfastened his suit jacket and slipped it off. Step by heavy step, he crossed the room to Jessica. With trembling gentleness, he wrapped his jacket around her, shielding her torn nightgown and broken dignity. Bruises—harsh, purple fingerprints-marked both sides of Jessica's jaw. At the corner of her mouth, something white and dried clung to her skin. Her exposed flesh was covered in a chaotic patchwork of bites, kisses, and handprints.

Vince knew Timothy well. He couldn't imagine Timothy doing something like this to Jessica—not in his worst nightmares.

Jessica hadn't shed a single tear through it all. But the moment she saw Vince, tears spilled silently down her cheeks. Her body shook with sobs she could no longer hold back.

A vein pulsed in Vince's forehead, threatening to burst. His fingers trembled as he reached out, wanting to comfort her, but he couldn't bring himself to touch her, not after all she'd endured.

At Jessica's feet, a paring knife glinted on the carpet.

Vince pulled his hand back. He snatched up the knife without a second thought, striding to the bed, rage blinding him.

He drove the blade into Timothy's abdomen.

Only then did Timothy wake, his eyes flying open in pain and confusion. He swung instinctively, his fist stopping just short of Vince's face.

But Vince was already yanking the knife out. Blood spurted, splattering Vince's face and hands.

He raised the knife to strike again.

Suddenly, soft arms wrapped around his waist from behind, pulling him back. Jessica's head pressed desperately into his back, her sobs wrenching through him.

Vince's hand went slack. The knife clattered to the floor.

He turned, and saw Jessica's tear-streaked, devastated face.

If he killed Timothy now, there would be no way out for any of them.

Timothy, clutching his bleeding. stomach, rubbed his aching temples, his mind thick with pain. Fragments of the previous night flickered through his memory like a broken film reel.

He lurched upright, his gaze darting to Jessica.

Vince's suit jacket had slipped to Jessica's feet, exposing her shredded clothes and skin, covered in those ugly, overlapping marks. Her face her lips-her hair, always so neat and glossy, was now wild and tangled.

Timothy's hands curled into trembling fists. Guilt strangled his voice.

"Jess..." His throat closed around her name. Any excuse would sound hollow

now.

Last night, he—

Vince turned away, eyes cold and murderous, as if he could tear Timothy apart with a look.

Jessica didn't even glance at Timothy.noveldrama

She tugged at Vince's shirt, wordless.

Vince tore his furious gaze from

Timothy, bent to pick up his jacket, and draped it over Jessica's

shoulders. He scooped her into

arms and carried her from the ruined

room. -

Timothy tried to follow, but his legs felt weighed down with lead. Blood snaked

down his abdomen, soaking into the carpet as he staggered forward.