Goodbye, Mr. Regret novel Chapter 483

Vince finally cut in, his tone sharp. “Then don’t change it. Who cares, anyway? That ungrateful brat isn’t worth the trouble!”

Phelps blinked in surprise. “Vince, what’s that supposed to mean?”

Vince gave a cold chuckle. “Oh, come on. Don’t act like you don’t know. Your precious great-grandson’s already gone out and found himself a new mother. Relax, the Zimmermans aren’t about to fight you for custody.”

Mrs. Bryant’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that true? Well, then the Bryants certainly want no part in this mess.”

She turned to Yates and said, “Phelps tells me you and Timothy are close, almost like brothers. Now, if Salome divorces Timothy and you marry her, people might talk. What do you think? Are you worried about what others will say?”

Yates was known for being a devoted son, the kind who’d never embarrass his mother in public. He might have his own reservations about marrying his childhood betrothed, but he would never openly defy his mother.

“Of course I’m not worried. Honestly, who still cares about that kind of thing these days?”

Phelps looked like he was developing a migraine.

“In that case,” Mrs. Bryant said, “I’ll call Timothy and have him come back to explain himself to all of you.”

Vince waved her off. “No need. I just saw him. He admitted everything—it was his fault, and he’s agreed to the divorce.”

“I was there, too,” Yates added. “He asked us to pass on the message.”

Phelps pressed his lips together, deep lines furrowing his face.

“That can’t be. Just a little while ago, Timothy was asking me to keep the Bryants and the Zimmermans calm, insisting he wouldn’t go through with the divorce.”

Just then, Phelps’s phone rang. It was Timothy.

“I agree to the divorce,” Timothy said flatly.

“Timothy—” Phelps tried to reply, but the line went dead.

Even though Timothy had agreed, Phelps tried to salvage the situation. “They’re young; they think differently than we do. We should let them handle their own problems. Timothy and Jessy are their own family now, after all. As the saying goes, it’s better to tear down ten churches than to break up a marriage—”

“That’s enough,” Larkin interrupted, his patience worn thin. “I absolutely refuse to let Salome stay with the Lawsons any longer. Seven years of marriage and they never even made it public! What did they take her for? Was there an engagement party? A wedding? Even a ring?”

Larkin had certainly never seen a ring on Jessica’s finger.

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