"Mr. Mendez, we're following up about your mother-in-law's case. You said you'd discuss with your wife whether to press charges. Have you reached a decision?"
I wanted to tell them to ask Abigail directly.
But before I could speak, her uncle bellowed into the receiver,
"Of course we're pressing charges! Arrest him immediately! How dare he kill my sister and still smear her online?"
"Excuse me, and you are...?"
"I'm the victim's brother. Her only brother. My words are my niece's words too."
He hung up before they could say more, then grabbed my arm.
"Come with me—we're going to Abigail's firm."
At the law office, her assistant jumped nervously in front of us.
"Mr. Shaw, Mr. Mendez—you can't just barge in like this. The president is in a meeting—"
"Meeting my ass!" he snapped, shoving her aside. "Do you even know who I am? I'm her uncle, and this man is her husband. If you've got eyes, use them—or do you not want this job anymore?"
Without waiting for her reply, he shoved the office door wide open.
Inside, Abigail sat leisurely in her leather chair. And bent over her, propped on the armrest, was Dylan—feeding her cookies from his mouth to hers.