Chapter 22
His words abruptly calmed the panicked Patricia.
She lifted her gaze to him.
“Timothy, surely you don’t still believe Shirley left because of me? Let me tell you–she’s had advantages I never did since childhood. I’ve always resented her. Why did she get everything I desired?”
“That’s why I deliberately took everything she cherished–her parents, and you.”
“But women understand women best. Let me tell you, she left you entirely because of your own actions: That’s why she gave up on you completely!”
“Aren’t you used to getting everything since childhood, Mr. Mitchell? How does it feel to lose someone you love? I thought you had no heart! You kept proclaiming your love for me, only to have an epiphany later. Are all men’s words equally untrustworthy?”
Patricia’s every word struck deep.
It pushed Timothy’s rage to its peak. He suddenly grabbed her by the throat.
“Shut up! What right do you have to judge me? You vicious woman!”
She instantly felt intense suffocation, yet kept struggling to speak.
“Isn’t that the truth? You abandoned me, and you’re no saint yourself!”
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Timothy’s grip tightened relentlessly. At this moment, he only wanted to silence this woman before him immediately–by any means
necessary.
Patricia struggled desperately, her nails digging deep into his hands, leaving vivid crimson trails.
Yet he felt no pain, his hands locked like vices around her throat without yielding.
Only when Patricia lay motionless on the floor, utterly silent, did he release his hold. Cold air rushed into her nostrils, and she gasped for air, breathing urgently.
The assistant entered, announcing they’d pinpointed Shirley’s exact location.
Timothy turned to leave when Patricia suddenly threw herself at his legs.
“You can’t do this to me!”
“Take her away and lock her up. Notify the Campbells while you’re at it.”
Timothy pried Patricia’s hands off and ordered the approaching bodyguards.
“No one lets her out without my permission.”
He strode toward the garage. As the car engine roared to life, Patricia’s broken sobs faded into the distance through the rearview mirror.
The moment Timothy boarded the plane, exhaustion washed over him. Yet his sleep brought no peace–murmurs escaped his lips.
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“I’ve admitted my mistakes. Won’t you come back? Let’s get married.”
“Shirley… where are you?”
His voice remained low, indistinguishable between drowsy mumbling or something deeper.
His assistant stood nearby, afraid to anger him, listening quietly and trying to make herself invisible.
In his dream, he was still in a meeting when Shirley called to ask what time he’d be home tonight, mentioning she’d made his favorite Beef and Tomato Stew.
He glanced at his phone, confirming it was Shirley calling. He rushed home immediately.
By the time he arrived, it was already noon. Shirley was busy in the kitchen. Timothy reached out to embrace her.
Only to find empty air.
He turned around
–
she was gone.
He jolted awake, tears welled up in his eyes.
Surveying his surroundings, he realized he was on a plane.
Regret flooded his heart. If given another chance, he would never have let things come to this.
He would have held her hand tightly and never let go. But there was no time machine to rewind everything, no chance for a fresh start.
After landing, he rushed to the address near Shirley’s residence.
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Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a man leaning against a car, apparently waiting for someone too.
Timothy glanced away, but the man turned and looked him over without reservation.
Frowning, Timothy saw a familiar figure emerge from the manor’s gates.
Shirley wore a simple white dress with light makeup that now made her glow with radiance.
He immediately rushed forward in quick strides.
“Shirley!”
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