Regret Novel 217

Chapter 217

Evander took a slow sip of his soup, watching her for a reaction. When she

remained unmoved, he asked, “What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?”

She snapped out of her thoughts, closed the container, and shook her head. “No, it’s really good. Thank you.”

He frowned slightly, his voice gentle. “You don’t have to be so polite with me.”

Just then, his phone rang.

It was Tricia’s nanny.

He declined the call, but she immediately phoned again.

He picked up, his tone curt. “What is it?”

“Sir! Miss Winthrop tried to take her own life!”

The nanny’s voice wasn’t loud, but in the quiet living room, Charlotte heard everything.

Tricia attempted suicide? Charlotte found that hard to believe.

Evander fell silent, glancing over at Charlotte.

managed a calm smile. “Go.

her eyes with a complicated look. “I’ll handle

his suit jacket,

smile faded from Charlotte’s face. She picked up her phone and texted Lana, telling her

Evander arrived at Tricia’s apartment, the nanny was a mess–white as a

the bathtub, one arm dangling over the edge, her wrist bleeding freely, staining the water

shouting for the nanny to bring

panic, the nanny scrambled to find it. Evander pressed his hand over Tricia’s wound to stem the bleeding,

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Chapter 217

eyes fluttered open. “Evander… don’t save me. I deserve this… Please, look after Hans

nanny returned with the kit. Evander tore a strip of bandage with blood–soaked fingers and tied it tightly around her wrist. “Don’t

when we were kidnapped,

“kidnapped” hit him like a blow. For a moment, his mind went blank, a jumble of painful memories–both

stared at Tricia, his expression darkening. “What did

said, I remember when we were kidnapped. Evander, even if I could live that day over again, I wouldn’t regret saving you.” Her voice was faint. “I know I’m not good enough for you anymore. These ten

those words, her head lolled to the side and she passed

her out of the tub, and

Hospital corridor.

bench, his face etched with

Miranda rushed in, handbag in tow, clearly frantic.

sight of his bloodstained

“It’s not mine.”

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