Chapter 2

Abigail found herself moving forward without meaning to, while a buzz of admiring voices filled the air around her.

"That couple is ridiculously good-looking. No wonder their kid is so adorable."

"They seem familiar to me."

"Wait, isn't that the CEO of The Smith Group? Oh my God. And the woman next to him... could that be his wife? I just heard the kid call her Mom."

When Abigail reached the restaurant entrance, her gaze landed on a sign in the corner. Only then did she realize they were hosting a fifth-anniversary event. Any couple who went onstage and kissed for three minutes would win a $1,000 electric toy car.

She looked at Paxton, practically bouncing with excitement on the stage, and suddenly thought of the remote-control car she had bought him not long ago with her bonus.

It had just launched, a limited edition worldwide release priced at fifty thousand dollars. It had cost her three months' salary.

But when Abigail had placed it in front of Paxton, he had tossed it into the trash without a second glance.

"Mom, don't brush me off with childish junk like this."

And now, for a cheap electric toy car, he was jumping up and down, calling Bianca "Mom" over and over.

Abigail stared at him numbly, then let out a quiet, bitter laugh. She really should leave.

She pulled her gaze away and turned toward the exit.

Another wave of cheers erupted behind her, mixed with Paxton's excited shouting.

"Dad, Dad, hurry up and kiss her!"

Abigail paused for half a beat, then quickened her steps.

What she didn't see was Bianca finally working up the nerve to rise onto her tiptoes and kiss Trent, only for him to suddenly lift his head, as if he had sensed something, and look toward the door.

He stared at the now-empty entrance, his expression shifting.

"Trent?" Bianca missed her chance to kiss him. She hid the shadow in her eyes almost instantly and looked at him in confusion.

"It's nothing." Trent came back to himself and gave a slight shake of his head.

Trent and the others returned home half an hour after Abigail did.

With a bright smile, Bianca set a box in front of her. "Abigail, we ate out tonight. Paxton made sure to bring this back for you."

The box was clear. Inside was half a slice of leftover cake.

Abigail looked away. "No thanks."

Paxton immediately stepped in to defend Bianca. "Mom, we brought this back for you on purpose. You won't even take one bite?"

"Are you targeting Aunt Bianca again?"

It wasn't as if he had no reason to say that.

Over the past six months, ever since Trent and Paxton had so quickly taken Bianca's side, Abigail had become almost hypersensitive to Bianca's very name.

She had started demanding they stay away from Bianca, nearly obsessively. She had even gone to the company several times to assert her place, trying to force Bianca out. But instead of getting what she wanted, she had only made Trent and Paxton dislike her more.

Looking back now, she had to admit she had been hard to like.

"I'm allergic to mango. I can't eat it," Abigail said calmly.

Paxton froze. As he met her quiet gaze, a strange flicker of panic rose in his chest.

How had he forgotten that Abigail was allergic to mango?

"This is my fault. Totally my fault." Bianca let out a startled gasp. "I was just thinking about how good the cake was, and I forgot you're allergic to mango. I'll go buy you a new one."

She hurriedly took the cake away, then leaned close to Abigail with an apologetic look.

"Abigail, I'm sorry. You're not mad at me, are you?"

Then, in a voice only the two of them could hear, she said, "You were at the restaurant today too, weren't you? Your husband and your son both want me to be the woman of this house."

"Abigail, stolen things never truly belong to you."

Abigail turned her eyes toward her. "Stolen? I'm Trent's wife and Paxton's mother. If anyone fits that word, it's probably you."

"After all, you're the one throwing yourself at a married man."

"Abigail!" Bianca's face changed instantly. She was just about to speak when the corner of her eye caught the doorway. She suddenly grabbed Abigail's hand, pressed it to her own shoulder, and threw herself backward.

"Bianca!" "Aunt Bianca!"

Trent and Paxton shouted at the same time.

They rushed in from the doorway and helped Bianca up with careful urgency, then both turned sharp, disgusted looks on Abigail.

"Are you done yet? Just because we didn't spend your birthday with you, now you have to go after Bianca?"

Bianca collapsed against Trent's chest, crying so hard she could barely catch her breath. "Trent, don't blame Abigail. It was my fault. I just lost my balance. I shouldn't have come..."

Her tearful, fragile look made Paxton burn with outrage.

"Mom, you're awful! I hate you!"

Trent scooped Bianca into his arms and headed out. "We'll settle this later."

Neither father nor son gave Abigail any chance to explain. Without hesitation, they chose Bianca.

Abigail watched them leave. Even though she had already decided to let go, a dull ache still spread through her chest.

For no reason at all, her mind flashed back to half a month ago, when a violent patient had slashed her arm during a medical dispute. While she was changing the dressing afterward, she had called Trent and asked him to come stay with her.

"I'm busy. Besides, I'm not a doctor. I can't treat you." He had hung up right after saying it.

Later, when Abigail came home, Trent saw the thick bandages wrapped around her hand and instinctively frowned.

"What are you doing now, trying to win sympathy?"

But Bianca was clearly unhurt, and still, he looked panicked for her.

So that was the truth. His concern depended on who it was for.

At that thought, the last thread of attachment in Abigail's heart seemed to snap loose.

She gathered her documents and went out to apply for a visa.

Over the next few days, Abigail packed her things and handled one procedure after another. Every application was expedited. The fastest turnaround would be fifteen days.

Twenty-five days left until she was gone.

Abigail drew a line across the date on the calendar.

Then suddenly, she got a call from Paxton.

"Mom, I broke out in a bunch of little bumps. Can you come look at me?"

He sounded tearful on the phone, with a few coughs mixed in.

Abigail's nerves tightened, and instinctively she wanted to ask what had happened. But she held herself back.

"Okay. I'll come by when I'm done here."

Paxton seemed caught off guard. "Why aren't you asking me what's wrong?"

Abigail's tone stayed calm. "Didn't you always hate it when I asked too many questions?"

Because Paxton had been born premature, he had always been frail and prone to illness. Abigail had taken care of him with constant attention, worrying over every small change.

Back then, Paxton would pat her on the back and comfort her in his soft little voice.

"Don't worry, Mom. Paxton's a superhero. I'll be okay."

Later, all he ever said with a look of disgust was, "You're so annoying. Can you stop being so controlling?"

After hearing that enough times, Abigail stopped asking.

But now, even though she had finally done what Paxton wanted, he suddenly got angry.

"Fine, don't ask! I don't even want you to care!"