Goodbye, Mr. Regret novel Chapter 186

Timothy stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, his movements crisp and sharp.

"What did you just say?"

"My little sister has a pink birthmark on her chest. It's kind of private—my family's never talked about it outside. But I want to use your data analysis to help find her, so I'm telling you now. It's heart-shaped."

Timothy's dark eyes grew even more inscrutable, shadows flickering in their depths.

He felt his heart pounding, more forcefully than usual.

His voice trembled ever so slightly. "Left side or right?"

"Upper left. My mother says it's about the size of a pinky finger. No idea if it'll grow as she does. If your data turns up anyone with a heart-shaped pink birthmark in that spot, pull their files for me. I'll send someone to check it out."

Timothy's long, elegant fingers curled into a fist.

A faint ringing sounded in his ears; he barely registered the rest of Vince's words.

Could it be Jessica?

Timothy's lips set in a tight, cold line.

He didn't speak for a long while.

"Timothy, are you listening?"

"I am."

Vince's tone softened. "About that community power project—look, it wasn't personal. You know how it is: if you'd taken the contract, it would've put a dent in the Zimmerman Group's renewable energy business. I had no choice. I'm sorry. My mom doesn't have much time left, and she misses her daughter. As her son, I just want to fulfill her last wish. Maybe we can use this as a chance to bury the hatchet, too."

"I'm not holding it against you. It's just business—a little lost profit, nothing more."

They'd grown up together, their families' businesses and social ties tangled up in ways outsiders could never understand. With things moving so fast, it was hard not to be a little on edge.

But if he never stood his ground, what was to stop everyone else from trying the same thing? How could anyone do business that way?

"Alright. Thanks. Just… keep an eye out for my sister, will you?"

"I will."

"Alright, I'll let you go. You're still recovering—don't stay up late. Get some rest."

When the call ended, Timothy reached for the pack of cigarettes on the table and lit another.

Pale smoke drifted from his lips and nose, curling slowly into the air.

Maybe he was just overthinking it.

If the Zimmerman family's youngest hadn't disappeared, she'd be twenty-six this year.

Jessica was twenty-seven.