The Prisoner Son Returns as the Medical Saint

Chapter 3: Don't Regret It

Eliza's eyes stayed on Edward for a moment longer than necessary, her brow pulling together slightly as she studied his face.

She thought he was acting on impulse. That he had signed out of pride and wounded ego, the way a man who had nothing left sometimes made dramatic gestures just to feel like he still had some control over something.

"Edward," she began, her tone careful and measured.

He did not look at her with anger. He did not look at her with sadness either. He simply looked at her the way someone looks at a closed door and replied, utterly calm, "Just don't regret it in the future."

Cathy let out a sharp laugh, the kind that was designed to draw blood.

"Regret?" she sneered, her eyes bright with amusement and cruelty. "Who in their right mind would regret throwing out the trash? Only a complete fool would lose sleep over losing something as worthless as you, Edward. Trust me, the air already smells cleaner."

Eliza turned and gave Cathy a single sharp look. Cathy closed her mouth, though the smirk did not fully leave her face.

"Take care of yourself," Eliza murmured to Edward, her voice carrying no warmth but no cruelty either.

Just the flat politeness of someone closing an old account.

She turned without another glance and got back into the car.

Cathy followed, tossing one last contemptuous look over her shoulder before pulling the door shut.

The car pulled away smoothly.

Edward stood at the prison entrance and watched the car disappear around the corner. His expression did not change.

He stood there for a breath or two, then reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He dialed without hesitation, his voice quiet and unbothered.

"Come pick me up."

Exactly one minute later, the street filled with sound. A convoy of sleek luxury cars rolled in one after another, each one gleaming in the afternoon sun, the kind of vehicles that made pedestrians stop walking just to stare. They lined up along the curb with quiet precision.

John stepped out of the lead car immediately, his expression bright and eager, practically bouncing on his heels as he rushed toward Edward.

"Boss! How are you feeling?" John greeted with a wide grin, his posture bent just slightly forward, every inch of him radiating the energy of a man deeply honored to be standing where he was standing.

Edward looked at the cars briefly and then back at John. "Take me to the old villa."

"Of course, of course! Right away!" John nearly tripped over himself moving toward the car door, pulling it open with both hands.

Edward got in without ceremony and the convoy moved.

By the time Eliza's car reached home, Cathy was already in high spirits.

She walked through the front door with her shoulders back and her eyes gleaming, the look of someone who had just accomplished something they were very proud of.

Jenna Norton, Eliza's mother, was sitting in the living room.

Mark, Eliza's younger brother, was sprawled across the couch scrolling through his phone. They both looked up when the two women entered.

"So?" Jenna's eyebrows lifted expectantly, her sharp eyes moving between Cathy and Eliza.

"Done," Cathy announced brightly, dropping her bag onto the chair. "Smooth as anything. Signed, sealed, finished. You should have seen his face."

Jenna's lips spread into a slow, satisfied smile. Mark sat up straighter, looking genuinely pleased for the first time in a while.

"Finally," Jenna exhaled, pressing a hand to her chest dramatically. "Finally Eliza has shaken off that useless criminal. I was starting to think she would carry that deadweight around her neck forever."

Mark snorted, leaning back again with a grin. "Honestly, good riddance. The man contributed nothing. Absolutely nothing. He sat in prison and expected to come back to a normal life like nothing happened. Pathetic."

Cathy settled into her seat and crossed her legs, the corners of her mouth curling upward. "And let me tell you, if it were not for the ten million and the villa being offered to him, that leech would never have agreed so easily. Money is the only language trash like him understands."

The room shifted immediately.

Jenna's smile dropped. She turned toward Eliza slowly, her expression suddenly sharp and cold. "What did she just say? Ten million? And the villa?"

Mark straightened up fully now, his relaxed posture gone entirely. His jaw tightened and his eyes darkened as they landed on Eliza.

"You gave him the villa?" Mark's voice climbed, disbelief thick in every word. "That villa? Eliza, I have been asking you about that villa for over a year. Over a year! And you told me to be patient. And now you just hand it over to that worthless piece of garbage?"

Eliza's expression did not crack but her brow pulled together slightly. She looked at her brother and mother with quiet, tired eyes.

"He did not take the ten million," she replied evenly, her voice flat. "He tore the check up in front of us. And the villa was his to begin with. It was left to him by his parents before we ever married. It was never mine to give or take."

Jenna made a dismissive sound in the back of her throat, waving her hand as though the explanation were a fly she could shoo away.

"That is entirely beside the point," Jenna snapped, her eyes narrowing. "You should have handled it differently. You should have made sure we walked away with something. Instead you let that man stroll out of prison and back into a property worth a fortune while we get absolutely nothing?"

Mark shoved himself off the couch and paced, his face flushed with irritation. "Do you know what I could do with that villa? Do you have any idea? I could host my friends there. The right people, the right connections. Women with actual taste. That place has value and you just let him walk into it like he owns it."

"He does own it," Eliza replied quietly.

"I do not care!" Mark snapped.

Eliza looked at the two of them for a moment longer, her face unreadable, her eyes carrying the low, dull weight of someone who had already used up whatever patience they had started the day with.

"I am tired," she murmured simply. She turned and walked toward the hallway, disappearing toward her room without another word or backward glance.

The door clicked shut behind her.

Mark stared after her, his jaw working. He turned to his mother with fire still bright in his eyes.

"She had no right," he muttered, his voice dropping low and hard. "No right at all. That villa should be ours."

Jenna's expression settled into something slow and deliberate. She reached up and smoothed her hair, her eyes growing distant and calculating in the way they always did when she had already made a decision.

"Do not worry," she replied coolly, the smile returning to her mouth but not reaching her eyes at all. "We will go there ourselves and drive that trash out. The villa belongs to this family." She paused, letting the words sit. "And we are going to take it back."