>>> Read Full novel Goodbye, Mr. Regret Free online <<<
By: Piper Jameson
CP: Jessica Greene and Timothy Lawson
Read online: Chapter 1-> 510 (Ongoing)
Goodbye Mr. Regret novel Chapter 1:
As soon as she closed the car door, the world's noise vanished.
Jessica Greene stared at the liver cancer diagnosis in her lap, her hazel eyes rimmed red. The paper trembled in her hands, crumpling beneath her grip.
The doctor had told her she'd missed the window for surgery—six months left, at best.
Today was the school's annual parent-child event. Out of the blue, Timothy Lawson had told her she should come.
Seven years had passed since the day Timothy, once the untouchable darling of high society, became her husband.
In all those years, he'd never once brought her to a public event.
Once upon a time, that invitation would have sent her over the moon.
Even the housekeeper had beamed when she heard the news. "Mrs. Lawson, looks like Mr. Lawson finally wants to make things official!"
No one knew that ever since Jessica discovered his secret, she'd been quietly getting her affairs in order, preparing to leave him.
She hadn't planned to go to the school event at all.
But she couldn't bear the thought of disappointing her son.
She could shut Timothy out of her heart, but she couldn't do the same to Henry—the little boy she'd carried for nine long months.
Arriving at the school, Jessica took a notepad from her purse and wrote a neat line before handing it to the security guard.
Hello, I'm Henry Lawson's mom from Class 1-3. I'm here for the parent-child event—could you please let me in?
She had chosen her outfit carefully: a soft, crinkled blouse, hair loosely swept up, and—for the first time in ages—the pearl earrings Timothy had given her.
Jessica's beauty was understated to begin with; with a bit of effort, she looked warm and graceful.
She knew how kids were. They always wanted their mom to look her best for school events.
The security guard arched an eyebrow. "Can't you speak?"
Jessica simply smiled and nodded.
She hadn't been born mute. Years ago, after a devastating trauma, she'd lost her voice. By now, she was used to the question.
The guard pulled out the sign-in sheet, scanning it before giving Jessica a once-over.
Pretty woman, he thought. Too bad she's mute.
His tone sharpened. "Henry's parents already signed in. You can't just pretend to be someone's mother."
Jessica frowned and quickly wrote, Henry is my son. There's no reason for me to pretend.
The guard, exasperated, shoved the sign-in sheet toward her and jabbed a finger at Henry's name. "Take a good look!"
Jessica's heart seized as she read the names in the parent signature column.
She'd grown used to the sneers and sideways glances that came with her silence.
But today, her chest felt impossibly tight.
It wasn't the guard's suspicion that stung.
It was the name scrawled in Timothy's unmistakable hand—Sheila Howard.
He wasn't even trying to hide it anymore.
She'd never met Sheila, but once, while tidying Timothy's study, she'd found a slip of paper tucked beneath the desk. Sheila's name had been scribbled over and over.
A woman's intuition had told her everything she needed to know.
So Sheila's last name was Howard.
When their son was born, Timothy had insisted on the name Henry—another H.
Today, everything finally clicked. Today, Jessica's decision to divorce became absolute.
For months, apart from caring for Henry, she'd poured her remaining strength into this one thing.
She'd visited several law firms. But the moment the attorneys heard Timothy's name, their politeness turned chilly. They'd usher her out the door.
It almost didn't matter anymore. In six months, she'd be gone from this world. Her marriage to Timothy would dissolve on its own.
At least she wouldn't have to bother with a lawyer.
Back at the house, the pain in her abdomen flared.
The doctor had warned her—livers don't feel pain until it's too late.
Jessica reached for her phone, meaning to look up more about her illness, only to find it dead.
Once it charged and powered up, she saw the parents' group chat overflowing with notifications.
She clicked it open.
There was Henry, both his ankles tied with bright red ribbons, each one fastened to Timothy's and Sheila's.
Henry was grinning from ear to ear.
Even Timothy, usually so reserved, had a faint smile on his lips. His dark eyes, always cold and distant, had softened.
He stood tall and elegant, every feature carved with striking precision. Even the casual movement of his hand spoke of effortless privilege.
Jessica had seen him command a boardroom, dazzling and magnetic. She'd fallen for him at first sight, only to fall deeper with every glance.
But how much of that warmth had ever truly been for her?
And then there was Sheila—a simple dress, skin pale as porcelain, every inch the picture of gentle, upper-class sophistication.
In the video, as their ankles tangled and they tumbled to the ground, Timothy's perfect composure cracked. He caught Sheila firmly around the waist, eyes wide with concern.
There were more photos, too—moments snatched from the day, impossible to unsee.
Goodbye Mr. Regret novel Chapter 2:
"Henry's parents are such a perfect pair."
"No kidding—handsome dad, gorgeous mom. No wonder Henry's such a cute kid himself."
"Honestly, that family of three is enough to make anyone jealous."
Scrolling through those comments, Jessica felt nothing anymore. The emotions that once would have stung her heart had faded into numbness. What lingered was only a dull ache for the woman she used to be—a woman who gave everything without reservation. Her eyes stung, tears pricking at the corners, threatening to spill over.
A sharp pain twisted in her abdomen, and cold sweat beaded on her forehead.
Mabel, the housekeeper, noticed something was wrong and hurried over. "Ma'am, are you feeling alright? Should I take you to the hospital?"
Jessica shook her head and quickly typed a message on her phone: "I'm fine. I just need to rest for a bit."
"Are you sure?"
Jessica nodded and tried to give a reassuring smile.
She got up, poured herself a glass of water, and slipped into the bedroom. From her bag, she took out the medication the doctor had prescribed for conservative treatment and swallowed a few pills as instructed.
Setting the glass aside, she glanced up at the wedding photo hanging on the wall—a blown-up image from their marriage registration. She had wanted to take proper wedding portraits for their new home, but Timothy had refused, claiming he disliked having his picture taken. If she really wanted a wedding photo, he'd said, she could just enlarge the registration photo. So, after seven years of marriage, that single, formal snapshot was the only photo of them together.
Tonight, Timothy had taken dozens of pictures with Sheila.
It wasn't that he hated the camera, Jessica realized. He just didn't want photos with her. For seven years, she'd clung to that fragile, transparent lie.
But not anymore. Tonight, she would tear away this paper-thin illusion and tell Timothy she wanted a divorce.
It was past ten when the sound of a car engine drifted in from outside.
A few minutes later, Mabel called out, "Ma'am, sir and young master are home."
Jessica's lashes fluttered as she left the bedroom, steeling herself for the conversation ahead. As for her diagnosis, she had no intention of telling Timothy about the cancer. Even if she did, he probably wouldn't care—and she had no desire to invite that kind of pity.
Timothy entered first, rolling two suitcases behind him, his steps measured and graceful. His tailored suit hugged his slender frame, the silvery fabric catching the light with a cold sheen. He lifted his chin slightly, his deep-set eyes scanning the room until they landed on Jessica.
She looked beautiful tonight. The pale gold blouse flattered her fair skin, and he realized how often he'd missed her gentle presence while traveling for work.
Timothy's usually sharp features softened as he regarded her, his gaze steady and inscrutable. His voice was calm, almost gentle. "We have a guest. Will you arrange the guest room?"
Behind him, Sheila stepped quietly into the foyer.
In her arms, their son Henry slept soundly, his small face nestled against Sheila's shoulder.
Timothy had brought Sheila home. Bold as you please.
Jessica stood frozen in place. Mabel, sensing the tension, didn't dare move.
Sheila reached out, lightly tugging Timothy's sleeve. "Timothy, you're married. Your wife is here. It wouldn't be right for me to stay. I was just dropping Henry off—I have a room at the hotel."
Jessica's brow furrowed. The way Sheila spoke—as if she'd stayed here before.
Sheila shifted Henry in her arms and turned to Jessica. "Jessica, come take Henry, will you?"
Jessica blinked in surprise. Sheila knew her name. Awkwardly, she reached out her arms to take her son.
But Henry stirred, blinking sleepily, and clung tighter to Sheila's neck.
"Miss Sheila, you promised you'd tell me a bedtime story tonight."
"Henry, you're home now. Your mom can tell you one. I have to go."
Sheila's voice was gentle, patient.
But Henry only held her closer. "Don't go, Miss Sheila? Please? My mom just puts stories on her phone for me. When I talk to her, it's like talking to myself. It's no fun. I can't even tell my friends… she's…"
The word "mute" hovered on his lips, but he swallowed it back, feeling uneasy about calling his mother that.
School events would always need parents to attend, and lately Henry had tried every way he could think of to get closer to Sheila. "It was great you went with Dad to the parent-child event at school today. My friends all thought you were my mom. They were so jealous."
When he was little, he hadn't cared; he'd depended on Jessica for everything. But as he'd grown, he'd started to complain about her silence. Only today did Jessica realize just how much it bothered Henry that she couldn't speak.
Of course. He was growing up. He wanted to fit in.
Jessica drew back her outstretched arms, her hands awkwardly hanging in the air before she slowly lowered them. She signed with steady hands, her fingers spelling out the question she needed answered.
"Who is she?"
