All Chapters of His Regret: I'm with his uncle now : Chapter 81 - Chapter 88

Because of the invasion incident, Harris was left in a bad state, but Ross wasn’t as terrible.He had a couple bruises, a few cuts here and there—nothing a bandage and some painkillers couldn’t fix. Still, the sight of him in a hospital gown, hooked to monitors, was enough to make Trent’s jaw smile.Trent had been calling his father endlessly all morning. The first time the call finally picked up, it wasn’t Harris—it was Ross, sitting right next to him at the hospital bed.Trent and Misty rushed to the hospital, burying the tension under the urgency of the moment. By the time they arrived, Harris was awake.They sat down in the room. Trent leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, Misty sat with her ankles crossed, looking like she might faint. Harris’s breathing was shallow but steady. He lifted his bruised hand, the IV taped against the skin, and said hoarsely,“Trent… don’t say anything bad. I understand that what I did was terribly wrong. I shouldn’t have done your mother like

The morning began like any other in the Randall household.Sunlight slipped through the blinds, casting warm stripes across the bedroom wall. His wife was already downstairs, the faint sound of sizzling eggs and clinking plates drifting through the air.Randall groaned softly as he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The smell of coffee was his cue — strong, black, just how he liked it.In the hallway, his teenage son argued about missing sneakers while his tween daughter hummed to a pop song, swinging her backpack over one shoulder. His wife called from the kitchen, “Breakfast’s ready! And please, no arguments before eight!”Randall smiled faintly, straightening his tie in the mirror. Another day, another case. The life of an attorney never slowed — not even when you worked for the Silverwoods.He kissed his wife on the cheek, promised to be home early, and stepped out into the quiet suburban street. The air was crisp, still damp from dawn.He unlocked his car, slid into the dri

The night Trent broke the internet began like any other storm — silent at first, then violent beyond reason.At 8:02 p.m., the live notification popped up on every phone that had ever cared about the Silverwoods, the Murphys, or the gossip that bled between them. Trent Silverwood is live. Millions clicked before they could stop themselves. The golden boy of Silverwood Empire, the one who’d stood beside Misty Murphy through every headline, appeared on screen — sharp-suited, eyes glassy, voice trembling not from nerves but from exhaustion.The restaurant lights glowed behind him, the chatter of guests dying as people realized what was happening.“I don’t even know how to start this,” Trent said. His voice was rough. “But I guess honesty’s overdue.”Misty was at home, robe tied too tight, glass of wine untouched on the coffee table. Her phone vibrated nonstop as the comments rolled across the screen — emojis, hearts, question marks, knives. She’d painted her nails two hours earlier to c

Payne’s breathing had turned shallow. He pushed himself up from the chair, clutching his chest. “Cassie—please… she didn’t mean it…”Cassie turned away sharply. “You people disgust me.”And that was when Payne’s chair screeched back.He gasped. A sharp sound, small and strange — like air escaping from a balloon. His hand clutched his blazer where his heart should be.“Payne?” Bridget’s voice cracked. “Payne!”He tried to speak — only a strangled noise came out — then collapsed forward, smashing his glass on the table before hitting the floor.“Call an ambulance!” Bridget screamed, falling to her knees beside him.Cassie froze, eyes wide. Arden fumbled for his phone, dialing emergency as Bridget pressed her trembling hands to her husband’s chest.“Payne! Payne, stay with me—please!”---The wail of sirens filled the street ten minutes later.Neighbors gathered at the gate, whispering. The once-proud Murphy estate flickered under the ambulance lights like a house of ghosts.Bridget rode