Dylan?
My hand paused over the divorce agreement. That name—Dylan—was the same one I'd heard at the police station two days ago. Remembering what happened yesterday, I suddenly understood—though it all still felt ridiculously absurd.
Abigail was pregnant with the man who caused her mother's death?
When I didn't answer, her voice became even gentler. "Julian, he's only twenty-two. For the sake of the years we shared, can you let him go?"
"If you let him go and sign the settlement, I'll give you my house and my car." She smiled, as if making a bargain. "And we've upped the settlement to one hundred thousand."
It was almost laughable. After sixteen years together, the first time she showed me tenderness was to save the life of the man who ran over her own mother.
I picked up the divorce agreement, flipped through it page by page, then handed it back to her.
She thought I’d agreed—her face lit up with relief. Quickly, she dug a pen out of her bag and pressed it into my hand.
I signed, then pushed the two copies back across the table.
“I agree with divorce. But as for a private settlement—I don’t have the right to sign that.”
It was the truth.
But in Abigail’s ears, it sounded like I was deliberately making things difficult.
Her face darkened. She leaned back in her chair, chest rising and falling sharply, then suddenly hurled the pen at me.
“Julian, I only brought up our past out of consideration. Don’t think I’m begging you. That’s your mother we’re talking about. If you don’t have the right, then who does? In the end, you just don’t want to let Dylan go. You’re malicious—and so is your entire family.”
“What did you just say?”
My fists clenched, anger rushing through me like fire.
She could insult me all she wanted, but why should I let her trample my family again and again?
Abigail slammed her palm on the table, leaned across, and hissed into my face.
"I said your whole family is vicious. Your mother deserved to be run over!"
Smack!
I struck her across the face with everything I had. The sound cracked through the room.
Stunned, Abigail's head whipped to the side. For a heartbeat she froze, then clawed toward my face.
"Julian, you bastard—how dare you hit me?!"
The commotion woke Jane. She came running on bare feet, eyes wide with panic.
"Mommy, don't hit Daddy!"
Abigail's hand stopped midair. She looked at the child, clenched her jaw, then shoved me to the floor.