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Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Chapter 167
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Chapter 159

The mention of chicken noodle soup brought a wave of nostalgia-Timothy realized he hadn't tasted it in ages.

Ever since that family day event, Jessica hadn't cooked a single meal.

Of course, Henry hadn't had chicken noodle soup for quite a while either.

The last the'd eaten it, Mabel had been the one to make it, and honestly, it had been pretty disappointing.

He couldn't help but miss his mother's cooking.

So he piped up, "Dad, can you call Mom and ask her to cback? | want chicken noodle soup for breakfast

tomorrow."

Then he tilted his head toward Sheila and added, "Miss Sheila, my mom makes the best chicken noodle soup.

When she comes back, I'll ask her to make extra so you can try stoo. It's really good-everything she makes

is delicious. You'll be lucky to have meals withafter she comes home."

Mabel felt her stomach churn at that.

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Did the young master even realize what he was saying? Calling his mother hto cook for the mistress? And

inviting the mistress to stay long-term?

Sheila smiled and ruffled Henry's hair, clearly amused. "Thank you for sharing your good fortune with me."

Henry beamed at the attention. Then he turned back to his father. "Dad, why haven't you called Mom yet? |

remember you love her chicken noodle soup too. Don't you want her to cback and make it for us?"

Timothy used to be away on business all the time, and when he was, he often found himself longing for Jessica's

cooking. It was the taste of home, the kind that made him feel truly content. Only in his own house did he feel

that sense of satisfaction.

Tonight's dinner had been prepared by Mabel. It looked all right-probably something she'd learned from Jessica-

but it just didn't measure up.

Timothy set down his fork, his expression unreadable. "Henry, you're forgetting- your mother left in a huff today.

Do you really think she'd cback so soon?"

Henry's eyelids fluttered in confusion. "Why wouldn't she? If you call her, she'll definitely cback."

"What's so bad about skipping chicken noodle soup for once?"

Timothy thought of Jessica's attitude. He had no intention of calling her.

He wanted her to spend a few days on her own, to remind her how good she'd had it here—a husband who

brought ha hefty paycheck, a bright and adorable son, a sprawling house, maids at her beck and call. Seven

years living in luxury, and she was starting to forget that all her security cfrom him.

Who was she to defy him?

He'd wait until she cback in tears.

Sheila chimed in, "Timothy, really now. You should hire a chef for the house instead of making Jessica do all the

cooking. Henry loves the food at The Silverthread Eatery. Why not ask their chef to ccook for us? No need

for Jessica to tire herself out."

Mabel was fuming. That had not been her intention at all—she'd wanted Timothy to call his wife home, not hire a

chef!

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Timothy's gaze turned serious as he looked at Henry. "You know, | think Miss Sheila has a point. I'll bring in a chef

to make you something delicious, all right?"

Henry nodded quickly. "Well, if Miss Sheila suggests it, | guess I'll go along with it for now. When Mom comes

back, I'll have her make something special forthen."

He'd suddenly remembered that his mom didn't seem to like Miss Sheila very much. If she cback, she'd

definitely find a way to send Sheila packing.

Maybe it was better not to rush her return. There'd be plenty of tin the future to enjoy his mom's cooking.

"I'm done eating. You guys go ahead."

Timothy stood and walked to the master bedroom. He opened the safe inside and took out the household bank

card. The card he used to give Jessica-loaded with two million dollars for her shopping sprees-wasn't there. Over

the past seven years, it must have added up to tens of millions. Jessica was always frugal; she probably hadn't

even spent it all.

No wonder she dared to talk back to him-he'd spoiled her himself.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Secretary Allen's number.