Goodbye, Mr. Regret novel Chapter 475

Vince climbed into the car. Herbert started the engine, glanced over at him, and for a long moment, the two men locked eyes in heavy silence. Finally, Herbert spoke, his voice tinged with a desperate plea. “Can you just… not fight me over Natalie? I’ve loved her since we were kids—for fifteen years.”

Vince’s answer was cold and final. “I’m not the one you’re fighting with. It’s Timothy.”

“You’re saying you don’t like her?”

Anyone could see Vince’s feelings for her.

“Just drive. We can talk while you’re at it.”

Herbert pressed the gas, and the car rolled forward.

Vince’s voice was low and steady. “How much do you actually know about Natalie’s childhood?”

“There you go again, asking about her. And you say you don’t like her!”

Herbert was clearly annoyed.

Vince’s expression darkened. “You claim you’ve loved her for fifteen years, but you never did anything about it. You just let her marry Timothy and suffer through all that—how is that fair to her?”

Herbert’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel, lips pressed so hard they turned white.

He didn’t know.

He never imagined things would turn out like this.

When Jessica filed for divorce, when she talked to Marquis about everything that happened...

Every time Herbert thought about it, he felt tears sting his eyes—something he’d never admit, not even to himself.

The girl he wanted to protect most ended up being hurt by Timothy in the worst ways.

He blamed himself.

Even when he moved away, they kept in touch, but he never told her the truth.

He wanted to wait until he’d found a cure for her mutism, to use that as a confession of love.

But by the time he came back, it was already too late.

Unspoken love only leads to regret.

Vince paused, then pressed on. “Is she her family’s biological daughter?”

Herbert slammed the brakes. “What are you getting at? If she wasn’t really their daughter, do you think her grandmother would have worked herself sick to raise her?”

Vince’s brow furrowed. “So you’re saying she is?”

“Yes, she is. She even has a birthmark—there’s no mistake.”

“What kind of birthmark?”

Vince’s voice trembled.

Herbert’s face grew wary. “I can’t tell you that.”

That birthmark was in a private place. Back in grade school, she’d once been bullied, her clothes torn, and Herbert had rushed over when he heard. That was the only reason he’d ever seen it.

If she weren’t really their daughter, and she had that birthmark, her family would know.

He’d grown up in this town—no one ever said Jessica wasn’t their own.

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