Money Makes a Man's Regret

I saw the shift in Henry's eyes—first doubt, then disbelief, and finally, pure disgust.

My thoughts started to scatter, but I heard Margaret's trembling voice somewhere in the distance.

"Jess, what's wrong? Talk to me, sweetheart. Jess, answer me! Where are you?"

I wanted to tell her I was here, but I couldn't. My throat had been torn open.

There were so many things I regretted when it came to Margaret. I wanted to say sorry to her. I should have protected her.

Finally, I let my eyes slip shut.

By then, Margaret finally caught the heavy scent of blood drifting toward her. As she moved closer, her hands brushed against the warm, sticky pool spreading across the floor.

When her fingers found the gaping wound in my neck, she froze completely.

The live stream chat erupted.

"OMG! Where is that man? Why hasn't he shown up yet?"

"Someone please find out who her husband is! Is this real? Help! She's dying!"

…

The burglar dropped the knife, and panic flashed across his face. "His wife's dead. No money now. What do we do?"

His partner let out a cold laugh and said decisively, "No big deal. We've still got the old woman alive. She's his real mother, after all. That ten million dollars will be ours!"

The burglar yanked Margaret up by the throat, nearly choking her, and shoved her toward the camera.

"Look closely! This old woman's son is Jensburg's very own billionaire—Henry Larson!"

In an instant, the comment section exploded.

"Wait, what? Henry's mother is at the wedding, right? He literally just announced his engagement to that painter, Ms. Foster!"

"Are these guys insane? How could they make up stories just for ransom money now?"

Just as confusion rippled through the chat, a new comment scrolled across the screen.

"Hold on—I'm on the cruise ship right now! I just saw Mr. Larson staring at his phone. His face looks tense!"

"Don't hurt Mrs. Larson! Mr. Larson definitely saw the messages—he'll pay!"

Then, a bolded message appeared, catching the burglars' attention. They read the comment aloud. "I'm Henry Larson! Stop everything right now!"

The moment Margaret heard "Henry", she lurched toward the voice and flailed her hands. "Henry! Save Jess!"

The burglars quickly connected to the caller, but the voice on the other end wasn't Henry.

Realizing they'd been played, the lead burglar cursed and threw Margaret to the ground. Her head hit the floor with a sickening crack, and blood pooled beneath her.

Margaret gasped in pain.

At the sight of that, the comments kept flooding in.

"Don't hurt Mrs. Larson! I'm Mr. Larson's assistant!"

"Henry's real mother is at the wedding! You guys abducted the wrong person!"

The burglar glanced at a nearby framed photo and laughed mockingly. Then, without hesitation, he picked up the same knife he had used on me and pressed the blade to Margaret's eye.

"Get Henry on the phone now, or I'll carve out this old woman's eyes and make soup out of them!"

It was a life-or-death moment, so the assistant had to dial Henry.

"Hello? Who's this?" A child's innocent voice answered.

Then, a warm voice followed in the background. "Derrick, come here. I made soup for you. Let me feed you."

Derrick handed over the phone.

Henry's voice came next, but his tone was irritated and sharp. "I said I'm not dealing with anything today. Why are you calling?"

The assistant hesitated. But seeing how Margaret was barely holding on, he had no choice.

"Mr. Larson… is Margaret Chapman your mother? She—"

Henry cut him off with an icy snap. "Jessica found you, didn't she? I'm warning you—if you ever let someone use my mother to get my attention again, you're fired. On the spot!"

His cold, final words echoed through the livestream. They rang in Margaret's ears.

She only heard the irritation in his voice.

"Henry…" Margaret whispered his name, but the moment the tears spilled from her eyes, her body gave out.

She crumpled to the ground like a butterfly with broken wings as the last hope crushed beneath her. And this time, she didn't fight it.