​Her Signature, Their Regret

Abigail Taylor stood by the window, her expression steady as the lawyer’s voice came through the phone.

“Ms. Taylor, the divorce agreement has been finalized and mailed out. Have you received it?”

“I have. Thank you,” Abigail said.

“Of course.” The lawyer hesitated, then asked carefully, “But are you sure you want to leave with nothing? You’ve been married to Mr. Smith for years, and everyone in your circle always thought you two were the perfect couple. What happened…?”

The question almost made Abigail laugh.

What perfect couple? It had always been her chasing after him, alone.

In Harbor City’s upper-class social circle, everyone knew what kind of woman Abigail was: a pathetic pushover. The woman who married her sister’s ex-boyfriend, then spent years lowering herself, giving in, and obeying him. Even when Trent’s name splashed across the gossip headlines, she’d stepped forward to smooth it over, insisting it was all a misunderstanding.

People used to say, “If you want a wife, marry someone like Abigail.”

Abigail lowered her eyes, her voice level. “Nothing dramatic. We’re just not right for each other.”

After a brief pause, she added, “I’ll have him sign the papers as soon as possible. I’m trusting you with the rest.”

“Who’s getting divorced?”

The deep male voice hit her without warning. Abigail’s heart gave a sharp jump, but she turned calmly.

“No one,” she said. “A friend’s been fighting with her husband. They’re talking about divorce.”

Trent Smith stood in the doorway, his brows drawn slightly together. He looked like he might press her, but before he could, their son’s impatient voice rang from outside.

“Dad, Aunt Bianca’s still waiting for us. Hurry up!”

Whatever suspicion had crossed Trent’s mind vanished. He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

“Wait.” Abigail stopped him. “Where are you going?”

Trent paused and looked back, impatience already on his face.

“Bianca’s dog got loose. She’s freaking out, and she’s all alone, so we’re going to help her. We’ll make up your birthday later.”

Abigail’s lips parted. She had dinner ready. A cake, too.

But Trent cut her off before she could speak. “Abigail, seriously? It’s just a birthday. Do you really have to turn this into a thing right now?”

Paxton came in from outside and shot her an openly resentful look. “Mom, why do you always have to stop us from going to Aunt Bianca?”

It was the same scene, again and again. Each time, it felt like silver needles driven straight into her chest.

Ever since Bianca returned from abroad six months ago, this had become their rhythm. At first, Abigail had broken down—she’d cried, shouted, demanded. Now there was only a dull, exhausted quiet.

She forced a faint smile. “You misunderstood. I just have two documents I need you both to sign.”

She handed them over.

“What is this?” Trent asked, frowning.

He took the pages, clearly about to read, but his phone rang. The moment he saw the caller ID, the hard lines of his face softened.

He answered and, without looking down, signed at the bottom.

“If it’s about buying a car or a house or whatever, you can decide next time. You don’t need to run it by me.”

Paxton signed too, scribbling his name without hesitation.

“Exactly,” he said, impatient. “And Mom, you can keep all those patents or whatever for yourself. I don’t even want them.”

Then he grabbed Trent’s hand and tugged him toward the door. “Dad, come on. Aunt Bianca’s definitely waiting.”

They left in a rush.

The front door shut. Silence settled over the house, heavy and final.

Abigail stared at the papers and let out a bitter, breathless laugh. If either Trent or Paxton had read one more line, they would have seen the truth: one document was a divorce agreement, and the other was a consent form giving up custody follow rights with the mother.

But even if they had noticed, it probably wouldn’t have mattered.

This marriage had never been what Trent wanted.

Ten years earlier, Abigail’s grandmother had died after a long illness. After seeing her through the end, Abigail went to live with the parents she hadn’t truly been close to for years.

That was when she met Bianca Taylor’s boyfriend, Trent Smith.

Trent was already one of the brightest rising stars in the business world. His investment instincts were nearly legendary, and under his leadership, The Smith Group climbed with ease.

There were endless stories about him in their circle. But more than his success, people talked about Bianca. About how Trent looked at her. About how the two of them seemed inevitable.

As Bianca’s younger sister, Abigail had watched their breakups and reunions, their vows and their heat, and somewhere along the way, without meaning to, she fell for him.

She never let anyone see it.

Instead, she chose a medical program far from Harbor City, telling herself distance and time would erase him.

Just before graduation, Bianca broke up with Trent and left the country for her future. Desperate to win her back, Trent sped to the airport, got into a car accident, and lost his sight.

After that, his personality changed.

Less than half a month later, Trent’s mother, Brigitta Thomas, came to Abigail.

“Abigail, please help me. You’re the only one who might be able to help Trent through this.”

Something selfish and hopeful stirred in Abigail’s chest.

Three days later, she went to Trent.

Her voice sounded remarkably like Bianca’s. The moment Trent heard her, he mistook her for Bianca. Abigail didn’t correct him. She stayed, helped with his treatment, and told herself she would leave once he recovered.

But the night before his sight returned, everything went wrong.

An accidental drug reaction. Trent losing control. One disastrous night that changed the shape of her life.

When Trent finally saw again and found Abigail beside him, rage flared in his eyes. “Abigail, how dare you pretend to be Bianca!”

He seized her by the throat, hatred pouring out so violently it felt like he meant to crush the air from her lungs.

Brigitta arrived in time and tore him off her. Then it got worse. Abigail found out she was pregnant.

No one knew how the news got out, but once Brigitta learned the truth, she forced Trent to marry her.

Soon after, Paxton was born.

Abigail knew she was unwanted. So she lowered her expectations until they fit inside her hands. Raise Paxton. Watch him grow. That would be enough.

What hurt most was that Paxton—the little boy who once threw his tiny arms out to protect her—had turned into a blade aimed at her the moment Bianca returned.

“Mom, you’re really embarrassing.”

“Mom, I like hanging out with Aunt Bianca.”

“I wish Aunt Bianca were my mom…”

If that was what he wanted, she would give it to him.

Abigail took the signed papers and left the house.

At the coffee shop, she handed both documents to the lawyer.

“He’s already signed them. Please handle everything as quickly as possible.” She swallowed, then added, “And one more thing. I need you to erase some of my traces.”

The lawyer nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

They reviewed a few final details. Once Abigail confirmed she would have the divorce certificate in thirty days, she stood to leave.

The moment she stepped outside, cheers erupted from a nearby restaurant.

Then a familiar little voice rang out, bright and excited. “Dad! Mom, kiss! I want the electric toy car too!”

Abigail turned instinctively.

Not far away, a crowd packed around the restaurant, three rows deep inside and out. In the center, under everyone’s attention, Trent and Bianca stood side by side like the stars of the night, gazing at each other with open tenderness.