Chapter 65

Abigail scoffed, thinking, “Do you really not know why I went to jail?”

“Get out once you’ve said your piece. I’m tired and need to rest.”

Her icy tone left Bianca feeling deeply embarrassed.

Bianca bit back her annoyance and tried again. “Abby, the family business is really struggling. Wyatt’s nursing home costs a fortune—tens of thousands of dollars a year. Can’t you see what a hard time your father is going through?”

“If money’s so tight, sell Daniella’s ten-million-dollar bags and jewelry. You’re seriously whining about Grandpa’s yearly expenses being too high?”

Abigail thought it was absurd. Didn’t every Gibson family member spend hundreds of thousands of dollars annually?

And Daniella was worse. She pre-ordered every season’s designer clothes and bags as soon as they were announced, plus the obligatory purchases, totaling over $300,000 each time.

“How can you even think about selling Dani’s things…”

Cutting her off with a cold glare, Abigail snapped, “You came here to make me tell Stephen I volunteered to marry Quentin, didn’t you? Do you have any decency as parents?”

Bianca was stung by her words. “Abby, no child should speak to their parents like that!”

“You pushed me into a nightmare over and over. Am I really your biological daughter?” Abigail’s voice was heavy with disbelief.

“Let’s be honest. You just don’t want to contribute to this family. You say you care about Wyatt, but this is your idea of caring?”

Bianca’s words felt like a fist squeezing Abigail’s heart, making it hard to breathe. She stared back in stony silence.

Bianca couldn’t meet her gaze. She stood up, muttering, “If you hadn’t gone to jail, do you think your father wouldn’t have found you a good husband?”

Abigail’s anger erupted. She laughed bitterly, “So my time in jail embarrasses you? What if I go to the police and say I was framed three years ago? How would that work for the family?”

Bianca’s face turned bright red, her voice shaking with disappointment. “When did you become like this? If you were half as obedient as Dani, of course, we’d love you more.”

Abigail recalled the day she first returned to the Gibson family. She watched Bianca combing Daniella’s hair and fastening a dainty bow hairband in it. That was the moment “mother” became a tangible concept—a scene she’d yearned for in countless dreams.

Later, she saved enough money to buy a gorgeous hair tie, hoping Bianca would do the same for her. But Bianca scoffed, “Your hair’s a frizzy mess like dry hay. What a waste on you—give it to Dani.”

She, a child abandoned and raised in an orphanage, didn’t even deserve to compare a single strand of hair to Daniella, the Gibson family’s precious heiress.

Their so-called love boiled down to plucking her from the orphanage and keeping her fed and clothed. In their eyes, even prison seemed cozier than life in that institution.

Fixing Bianca with a distant stare, she said, “You’re in for a letdown. This is who I’ve always been. The orphanage taught me one thing. I stick with those who show me kindness.” Not the other way around, where obedience earns affection.

Bianca’s eyes glazed over briefly as if watching her daughter fade into the distance. Yet this was the same girl she’d carried for nine months, the same one who’d once clung to her arm, softly whispering “Mom” when she first came home.

“Mom?” Daniella’s voice drifted from the doorway.

Bianca jolted back to the present and rushed to look. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

“It’s getting late. I picked up some snacks to help you relax. Have them now.”

Daniella’s tender, thoughtful words gradually dissolved Bianca’s lingering guilt toward Abigail. ‘True. If Abby hadn’t taken the blame for Dani, we wouldn’t be pulling out all the stops for Abby’s marriage. After all…’ Bianca thought.

With a sigh, Bianca stood up. “Okay.”

Her eyes turned icy as she glanced at Abigail, but the moment they landed on Daniella, warmth flooded in. “Why on earth did you go out so late?”

“I know you’re stressed about Stevie. I didn’t want you lying awake all night, so I went to get these,” Daniella replied.

Abigail tucked her scarred hand, marked by an old burn, behind her back and sneered.

Downstairs in the living room with Daniella, Bianca accepted the calming snacks she offered. The frustration she’d felt toward Abigail eased slightly. “You’re so considerate,” she said.

After nibbling the snacks, she pressed her lips. The last time Bianca had eaten these was three years ago, before Daniella’s incident. Back then, Abigail had learned she was having trouble sleeping and tracked down the restaurant she always patronized to buy them.

“Has the Hearth Table changed its chef?” Bianca asked, eyeing the food. A faint earthy taste lingered in her mouth.

Daniella’s hands clenched subtly, but her expression was puzzled. “No, why do you ask?”

Bianca shook her head and stroked Daniella’s hair. “Never mind. Go get some rest.” As she spoke, she set the plate down with a vacant look.