Wounds of Regret

The car soon pulled up in front of the design studio.

"I'll go in now," Celine said, unbuckling her seatbelt.

"Celine." Vivian quickly reached out and took her hand.

The woman in her fifties had aged gracefully, though perhaps from several sleepless nights, the fine lines at the corners of her eyes seemed more pronounced than usual.

"Vance, he..." The typically cheerful woman's eyes suddenly welle