Goodbye, Mr. Regret novel Chapter 527

Most people could relate, after all.

Of course, some of her thoughts came from all those TV shows she’d seen, the ones with thankless, ungrateful children. Whether it was in movies or novels, art mirrored life.

She’d never experienced it herself, but she was sure those kinds of people existed.

The screenplay, naturally, was meant to shine a light on the greatness of a mother’s love.

She just never expected the drama to play out in her own life.

Yates didn’t ask about the other plot points anymore.

Instead, he changed the subject. “So, what are your hopes for the box office numbers?”

“I’ll give it my best shot, ask for nothing, expect nothing. Do the work, wait for the results. If it doesn’t go well, I’ll start over. If it does, I’ll keep going.”

Perfect wife material.

She was a breath of fresh air.

After a long day at work, coming home to talk with her—what could be more relaxing?

Timothy must have lost his mind to let her go.

Well, maybe it’s for the best.

He’s just not that lucky.

Yates silently cheered to himself.

Back at the house, Vince had just stepped inside when his phone chimed with a notification. He pulled it out—Twitter alert.

From The Lawson Group.

A frown creased his brow.

He tapped the screen.

His face soured instantly.

Seriously, Timothy?

Unbelievable. Absolutely shameless!

What a show-off.

Posting their marriage registration.

Flaunting his love.

Where does he get the nerve?

Vince’s expression went through a whole rainbow of emotions. Jessica wandered over. “What’s up, big brother? Something happen?”

“It’s nothing. Just saw something annoying on Twitter. Some jerk posted something stupid. It’s late—let’s all get some sleep.”

They headed inside. As soon as Jessica was in her room, Vince grabbed Yates by the sleeve and dragged him into his own bedroom.

“So, who’s the jerk and what did he post?”

Yates sat down and asked.

Vince handed over his phone. “Take a look. And you’re still dragging your feet on your engagement? Look how slick he is—always quick to grab credit. Meanwhile, you’re as slow as molasses. Honestly, you might as well get comfortable at the back of the line.”

He was fuming.

Not that either of them were any better.

Might as well complain about both.

Yates picked up Vince’s phone.

It was a tweet from The Lawson Group’s official account.

#FirstScreening #FilmReview #LettersFromTheFetalSeaPreview #StarlightGrandTheater

Yates finished reading and muttered, “This is supposed to be a review?”

The nerve—he even tagged Starlight Grand Theater to hitch a ride on the hype.

“Looks like a review to me. Isn’t he talking about the movie?” Vince had only skimmed it, too incensed to care.

“Read closer. It’s basically a confessional. He probably wrote it for one person to see—and even paid to promote it. Bought himself a trending hashtag. Pathetic.”

Vince wasn’t wrong.

The guy had skills, he had to admit. The writing was impressive.

He talked about the film, then about his mother sacrificing everything for him, thanked his wife for writing such a moving script and investing in such a great movie, which had made him truly appreciate a mother’s love.

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