I couldn’t be bothered to answer Abigail’s question. Instead, I carefully went through each of Kayla’s belongings.
These were the things Kayla had treasured most when she was alive.
I picked up a family photo, staring at the warm smile on Kayla’s face as tears the size of raindrops rolled down my cheeks.
This photo was taken at my wedding with Abigail Abigail and I were seated in it, and Kayla had her arms around us, smiling so brightly.
Suddenly, a hand snatched the photo from me and slammed it on the coffee table.
Abigail glared at me, her face hard as she spat out angrily, “Did you ever even care about me?”
Without a word, I picked up the photo again and gently placed it back in the paper bag.
I looked up, meeting her furious gaze with a calm expression, and replied evenly, “Kayla was my family, my flesh and blood. Of course, she was the most important person to me.”
Hearing my answer, Abigail’s eyes filled with disappointment.
She grabbed my arm, her voice rising in fury. “But I’m your wife!”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, really? Thanks for reminding me. If you hadn’t, I might have forgotten I had a wife.”
As expected, my words only twisted her face further with rage.
She cast a cold look at the bag in my hands, scoffing as she shook her head.
“Only you would treat trash salvaged from a garbage bin like some kind of treasure.” The word “trash” hit me like a slap, anger surging through me.
“These are Kayla’s belongings. They’re not trash! Abigail, you’re the real trash here!”
She’d been with countless men behind my back, yet she dared to call Kayla’s things filthy. Where did she get the nerve?
Abigail’s face turned an ugly shade of red and purple.
With a furious glare, she raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face, the blow knocking me off balance and sending me crashing to the floor.
My cheek burned with pain as I gasped for breath, struggling to steady myself.
The blood trickling from the corner of my mouth told me she’d put her full strength into that slap.
I looked up, feeling the sting of her handprint on my cheek, and met Abigail’s shocked gaze. Without a word, I picked up Kayla’s belongings and walked out of the house. But as soon as I stepped outside, I was swarmed by a mob of reporters and cameras.
They snapped pictures nonstop, shouting questions I didn’t know how to answer.
“Mr. Gebb, is it true that your relationship with Ms. Bardot has fallen apart?”
“Are you carrying your things because you’ve been kicked out?”
Each question hit me like a punch, leaving me speechless.
Their voices made my head throb. Desperate to escape, I waved down a cab and climbed in as quickly as possible.
As the car pulled away, I could still see some reporters chasing after us.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
“Good question. Where could I go now?
“Tidespan Bridge,” I replied calmly, leaning back against the window to gather my thoughts.
I needed to get away from the noise, to find a quiet place where I could breathe.
My phone buzzed with a notification, and I glanced down to see a trending news alert lighting up the screen.
The hashtags “SamuelThrownOutByAbigail” and “SamuelAndAbigailDivorceDrama” were trending. Underneath the headlines were photos of me, looking worn out and clutching Kayla’s belongings, my expression bleak and defeated.
The comments were a flood of insults.
“Why can’t he take a hint and stop clinging to our Abi?”
“Abigail and Joshua are the perfect couple. Samuel should just die.”
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