Pregnant With Her Mother's Murderer, I Divorced My Wife

Uncle Archie's fist hadn't even landed on the boy's face before Abigail caught his arm.

"You—you dare stop me?" he roared.

"Do you even know what time it is right now? At such a critical moment, you're still fooling around with this kind of scandal!"

Abigail shot me a venomous glare, as if I had deliberately staged this scene to expose her.

"Uncle," she said coldly, "this is my private matter. Aren't you stretching your hand a little too far?"

"What... did you just say?"

Uncle Archie froze, stunned. He could never have imagined that his gentle, considerate niece would speak to him like this.

"Fine, fine. It's my fault. I shouldn't have interfered." He turned on his heel and walked away without another word.

I was about to follow him out when Abigail's voice cut through the air.

"Julian! If it weren't for the fact that I'm related to you and therefore unable to stand in court, I would have personally represented Dylan and made sure you lost so badly you'd never recover!"

I paused, then asked the question that had been gnawing at me.

"Abigail, I really don't understand. Why do you treat me like an enemy now?"

She narrowed her eyes, leaned closer until her face was just inches from mine, and whispered, "That slap—you think I'll ever forget it? I'll carry it with me for the rest of my life."

Sighing, I nodded. There was nothing left to say.

Online public opinion only grew more frenzied.

Because of the uproar, the case was fast-tracked to trial—less than half a month later, we were in court.

I didn't hire a lawyer. I sat alone at the plaintiff's table.

From the gallery, Abigail raised her brows at me with a smug, mocking look.

When her relatives entered the courtroom, they whispered to her in confusion.

"Why is your husband sitting up there? Shouldn't you be the one leading the case?"

Abigail gave a dismissive little laugh, answering casually, "The defendant's seat is already taken by my company's lawyer. A firm can't have two of its own lawyers sitting on both the plaintiff and defendant's side."

Her relatives gaped at her in disbelief.

"You—you let one of your employees defend the man who killed your mother? Are you insane?"

She didn't even bother sparing them a glance.

"So what? A lawyer's duty is to stand for justice. Even if it's family—if they've done wrong, they must face the consequences."

Oh, she sounded so righteous.

I couldn't help but sneer silently from where I stood.

'Would she still speak so self-righteously after the trial began?' I wondered.

The judge's gavel struck down, echoing across the chamber.

“I hereby announce the opening of the trial for the Rose Avenue car accident case of August 29th. The deceased: Emilia Shaw—”

“Who are you talking about?”

A loud thud sounded behind me as Abigail shot to her feet, her face pale.