Goodbye, Mr. Regret novel Chapter 571

Time had never crawled like this before.

It dragged on, stretching out like eleven endless years.

Vince stood up and walked over.

He let out a weary sigh.

Timothy had always been ruthless, capable of doing the most unthinkable things to Jessy—but Vince could never bring himself to be that heartless. No matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn’t stop caring about Timothy.

They’d grown up together. Thirty years of friendship.

At last, the doors to the operating room swung open.

The Lawsons immediately crowded around, bombarding the doctors with anxious questions.

Their voices overlapped in a surge of panic and desperation, making the doctors’ heads spin.

“Enough! Quiet down!” one of the doctors barked, exasperated. “All this noise isn’t helping the patient’s recovery!”

Instantly, silence fell. The waiting room felt still, heavy with fear and hope.

At least, no one had said the worst. No one had announced a death.

A doctor stepped forward. “The internal bleeding wasn’t fatal. We’ve managed to take care of it. The real danger was the brain hemorrhage. We performed a craniotomy, and the surgery was a success. But the next seventy-two hours are critical. If there’s no further bleeding and the patient regains consciousness after three days, then he’ll be out of danger.”

They’d managed to snatch him back from the brink.

But three days still hung over them like a sentence.

Sallie’s voice trembled as she asked, “And if he doesn’t make it through the next three days?”

The doctor’s face grew grave. “There’s a risk of brain death. He could end up in a permanent vegetative state. For now, he’ll be in intensive care, monitored by our best team. When he’s brought out, please keep quiet. Go home and prepare anything he’ll need for his stay—clothes, toiletries. Only one person should stay to make any major decisions. Visitation is limited to once a day.”

Phelps collapsed again, overcome by shock.

It was dangerous—he was too old for this kind of stress. His heart couldn’t take it.

All his life, his son had been a disappointment, never living up to expectations. And now, his only outstanding grandson was lying broken behind those hospital doors.

Naylor rushed to call a nurse, who hurried over and began emergency procedures for Phelps.

It felt like everyone’s blood pressure had been through the roof all day.

Soon, nurses wheeled Timothy out of surgery.

His face was swollen and ghostly pale. Dried, dark blood clung to his lips. His head had been shaved and was now bandaged in layers of white gauze, held in place by a netted cap.

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