Goodbye, Mr. Regret

The other kids were already busy, their little hands hard at work.

Henry, however, sat perfectly still, not making a move.

He was deep in thought, torn by a single question: Whose likeness should he cut out? Sheila's or Jessica's?

He'd always pretended in public that Sheila was his mother, and his father had never objected. But now, suddenly, his father had forbidden it.

If only his mother hadn't shown up today, none of this would be a problem. He could have just made his paper silhouette look like Sheila and avoided all this trouble.

But now his mother was here, and worse, she was the head judge. If he made his mother's silhouette look like Sheila, she'd definitely give him a low score.

Henry was the best at paper cutting in his whole class, and everyone expected him to win a prize at the competition. If he didn't, it would be humiliating.

But if he chose to make his mother's likeness, as soon as she opened her mouth -well, she couldn't speak, and everyone would laugh at her. Worse, they'd laugh at him, the son of a mute woman.

He was completely conflicted, paralyzed by indecision.

Both his parents were strikingly good-looking. If he managed to capture their features well, he was sure he'd win. But if his work didn't turn out right, he could kiss the prize goodbye.

It was all his mother's fault, really. She'd never liked going out before, and if only she'd stayed home where she belonged, none of this would've happened.

She'd ruined everything.

Minute after minute ticked by. Henry still sat motionless, lost in his thoughts.

Sheila, brow furrowed, leaned close to Timothy and whispered, "Why hasn't Henry started yet?"

Marquis, watching from the sidelines, seized the moment to snap a photo of Sheila and Timothy, their faces so close it looked almost like a kiss.

Timothy's reputation was already in tatters. How could he still have the nerve to refuse a divorce? Marquis barely had to lift a finger-evidence practically fell into his lap.

It was almost laughable, how easy this case would be to win.

Still, Mrs. Lawson was a bit of a tragic figure. If it hadn't been for Mr. Zimmerman's bravery and his willingness to stand up to Timothy, even evidence this damning might not have been enough to secure a divorce.

Timothy's brand of cruelty was almost refreshing in its originality—so unique it could only belong to an heir of The Lawson Group. He even managed to be a different kind of despicable than other men.

Timothy's tone was cool and dismissive. "Leave him be."

His gaze remained fixed on Jessica.

Jessica, meanwhile, was watching the children on stage, her expression intent and focused.

She wore a simple, elegant handmade dress-a light, natural fabric paired with a contrasting wrap. Her long hair was braided and rested loosely over her left shoulder, giving her a quietly artistic ainthat perfectly matched the role she was playing today.

He had rarely seen her look like this.

Sheila noticed Timothy's eyes glued to Jessica, and a wave of bitterness rose in her chest.

That mute woman—so quiet and

demure on the surface, but it was all

an act. She knew perfectly well

Sheila would be here with Henry for the paper cutting contest, and yet she'd shown up as the head judge, just to make things difficult.

It reminded Sheila of the old saying: "Even a silent mosquito can kill you."

Timothy belonged to her. If it hadn't been for special circumstances all those years ago, Jessica would never have had the chance to swoop in and take him.

And on top of it all, she'd given Timothy a son.

Every time Sheila saw Henry, it was a cruel reminder of Jessica and Timothy together, tangled in each other's arms. But she had no choice—she had to keep up the pretense of being kind to Henry.

The more she thought about it, the more suffocated she felt.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Henry picked up his pencil and began.

Before cutting, the children first sketched their designs. Jessica had taught himnoveldrama

herself, so she recognized at a glance what he was drawing.

A bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

An hour later, the emcee took the stage and called out, "Time's up!" The children's creations would now be presented, one by one.