Goodbye, Mr. Regret novel Chapter 476

Herbert stared blankly into Vince’s anxious eyes, blurting out, “Left side of her chest—pink—heart-shaped.”

Vince collapsed into the passenger seat, numb with shock. So it was true. Jessica really was his Salome—his long-lost little sister.

Timothy.

Within seconds, Vince’s eyes brimmed red, his fists clenched so tight his arms trembled. His teeth ground together audibly.

Herbert realized the truth must have matched. He hadn't expected Vince to care so much about Jessica—or to have been relentlessly asking about her childhood because he suspected she was the Zimmerman family’s missing daughter.

With guilt heavy in his voice, Herbert muttered, “I’m sorry...”

Vince’s reply was hoarse, “It’s not your fault. I should have known.”

Just as the words left his mouth, Vince’s phone rang, slicing through the tension.

He picked it up. Timothy’s name flashed across the screen.

Seeing that familiar name, Vince felt a murderous rage stir inside him.

He answered.

Timothy’s voice was cold and calm. “Take Salome home. The family’s waiting to bring her back.”

He’d given in.

He was letting Jessica go—letting her return to the family she belonged to, letting her go somewhere he might never see her again.

He couldn’t use Jessica’s life as a gamble just to patch up a marriage that was already beyond repair.

“Vince—”

Before Timothy could get out another word, Vince’s voice exploded, nearly shattering Timothy’s eardrum. “Don’t call me Vince! Why the hell didn’t I kill you that night?”

Timothy was quiet for a heartbeat. Vince didn’t even bother to confirm what he’d just learned, he simply roared, cursing, “You already know?”

“Yeah, I know. I don’t need your fake concern, you bastard!”

Then Timothy was left with nothing but the cold beep of a disconnected call.

Vince, usually the picture of composure, was suddenly in pieces. He grabbed Herbert’s arm, his voice raw and broken. “Turn the car around. I need to see my sister.”

Vince’s pain hit Herbert like a punch to the chest. He spun the wheel and sped back, racing Vince to Jessica’s front door.

Both men scrambled out the moment they stopped. Vince’s knees buckled as soon as he hit the pavement, and he collapsed.

Herbert rushed to catch him.

Even with Herbert supporting him, Vince could barely walk, staggering with every step, his mind reeling with memories—Salome, as a child, calling him “big brother” with that sweet, clear voice.

He was only a step from the door, but it felt impossible to move forward.

He remembered the nights she’d sneak into his bed when she was cold, curling up contentedly in his arms. “Big brother, Salome loves you so much.”

How had she survived all those nights?

She’d finally married the man she’d adored since childhood, only to end up suffering even more.

It was his fault as her brother—his failure.

Vince pounded his fist against his chest in agony. Bam! Bam! Bam!

“Mr. Zimmerman, please...”

Herbert knelt and caught Vince’s wrist.

Vince, eyes full of tears and pain, stared at the house and forced a bitter smile. “What kind of big brother am I, letting my little sister suffer right in front of me? I’m not worthy.”

Herbert hauled Vince up, voice thick with emotion, “You didn’t know. If Salome knew you were her brother, she’d be so happy.”

Inside, Jessica was searching the house. She was sure she had photo albums, framed pictures—she’d never paid much attention before, but now that she needed them, they were nowhere to be found.

“Salome.”

She turned around to see Vince and Herbert, both with red-rimmed eyes.

Before she could process it, Vince crossed the room in three long strides and pulled her into his arms.

Softly, Jessica whispered, “Vince, I’m sorry. I can’t find any family photos. I wanted to show you pictures from when I was a child, but they’re all gone.”