All Chapters of The Goodbye he regretted : Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

Maureen stared at Richard as though she had just heard the strangest thing in the world. Did he really just say that? She almost laughed, but the awkwardness in the air stopped her. "Mr. Hoffman, you seem to be in a very playful mood tonight." Richard's expression did not change. "I'm serious, Selene." The smile disappeared from his face. "I wasn't joking." Maureen's fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. She had already made her position clear earlier that day. She didn't want to have this conversation again. She took a small step away when Richard reached toward her shoulder. "Richard, I think I've already told you how I feel. Do I really have to say it again in a way that might hurt you?" "I know." Richard lowered his hand. "You turned me down." There was no anger in his voice. Only a quiet disappointment. "And I know you're with Michael Ashford now." He gave a small, bitter smile. "But that doesn't change how I feel about you. I'm not asking you to choose me

Damien ran his tongue over his split lip and tasted blood. The pain in his head came back a few seconds later, sharp enough to make him shut his eyes. That was when the alcohol finally seemed to wear off. And with his senses returning came the memory of what he had just done. He had kissed Selene. Damien stared at the ceiling, unable to make sense of himself. In all his years, he had never been the kind of man who chased women or made the first move. Even Aurora, who had once been bold enough to approach him herself, had only managed to kiss the edge of his mouth before he pulled away. Yet tonight, he had grabbed his ex-wife and kissed her without thinking. Worse, he couldn't deny that he had wanted to. He could still remember the warmth of her lips. That realization made his expression darken. What was wrong with him? "I drank too much." He rubbed his forehead and let his head fall against the pillow. "I really shouldn't drink like that again." Richard, who was still st

The press conference was a total disaster. In just one afternoon, everything Diana had spent years building for Kylie—her perfect image as a polite, well-raised upper-class girl—completely fell apart. By the time they got home that night, Kylie was so drained and weak that the servants practically had to drag her inside the house "Mom... you have to help me!" Kylie sobbed, not caring at all how messily she was crying. "You have to get back at them for me! Everyone online is talking trash about me. I can’t even step outside anymore!" "Get back at them how?" Diana shouted back, pointing right at her daughter’s tear-stained face. "What do you want me to do? Go slap Damien? Or force him to step down so a clueless girl like you can run the company?!" Diana was furious. "What did I tell you before we went out there? I told you to stick to the script I wrote. I told you not to wear any makeup so you’d look sincere and sorry! But what did you do? You ignored everything I said and d

In the general manager's office of Ashford Hotel, the supposedly very busy Maureen had a chainsaw in her hands and three screaming survivors to catch. She leaned into the monitor, thumb mashing the trigger button. On screen, her butcher character kicked down a door and let out a roar loud enough to make the office speakers crackle. One survivor down. Two left. Beside the keyboard sat a cold beer and a half-eaten box of fried chicken, grease soaking through the paper. She grabbed a piece without looking, took a bite, eyes still locked on the screen. Nothing beat this. Summer barbecue on the rooftop. Winter cheese fondue with her brothers arguing over the last dumpling. Fried chicken and a controller in her hand. Simple things. Good things. Her character cornered the second survivor. She pressed the button a beat too hard, teeth grinding. Three years, she thought. Three years she'd spent chasing something that never once turned around to look at her. She'd had a smoke allergy

The Rolls-Royce rolled through the antique gates of the Ashford mansion, wheels crunching over gravel worn smooth by a hundred years of traffic. Word of their arrival moved faster than the car. By the time Maureen and Michael stepped out, Brew the butler and a line of servants were already waiting on either side of the entryway, backs straight, heads bowed. "Welcome home, Ms. Maureen!" "Ms. Maureen, may you live a long and healthy life!" Maureen pressed two fingers to her forehead, holding back a laugh. Immortality. Sure. She'd take it if anyone was offering. Before she could take another step, two women came rushing down the front steps toward her. "Maureen!" Aunt Mila reached her first, hands already out. "We missed you so much." Behind her, Susan khores closed the distance in three long strides — shoulder-length hair swinging, purple satin blouse with a silk bow at the collar, wide-leg black trousers that made her look even taller than she already was. "Aunt Mila. Aunt Su