Unmasking Mrs. Newton's Secret Identities novel Chapter 1675

"It's not that," Lincoln replied, shaking his head. "I just feel like you and Daddy have been through so much. You've been apart for so long to protect me and Nana. You must have missed each other a lot, right?"

Helen looked at him, her heart swelling with emotion. In an instant, tears blurred her vision. Without thinking, she gently cupped his face, studying him intently.

People often referred to a daughter as a mother's little ray of sunshine, but she was truly fortunate to have such a caring and perceptive son. It felt as if heaven had truly smiled upon her.

"Mommy," Lincoln said, his voice brimming with concern as he took her hand. "Don't worry. I'll work hard. When I grow up, I'll protect you and Daddy. You won't have to be apart anymore."

Helen's heart melted, and she nodded earnestly. "Alright, I'll wait patiently for that day. I believe in you, Linc. I know you'll make it happen."

…

By midday, Abigail was jolted awake by the shrill ring of her phone. Still half-asleep, she groggily searched through the bed before spotting it on the coffee table.

Like a zombie rising from the grave, she propped herself up, hoping the call would end without her having to answer.

Nonetheless, the caller was relentless. As soon as the first call finished, another came through, counting down like an unyielding timer.

Abigail let out an exaggerated sigh. After a moment of hesitation, she dragged herself over, grabbed her phone, and pressed it to her ear. Collapsing back onto the bed, she said in a tired voice, "Hello? Who's this?"

"Abigail, it's me."

The moment Abigail heard her mother's voice, a wave of tension washed over her, making her feel as if she had been transported back home.

Without thinking, she sat up straight, her eyes wide. "Mom? What made you call today?"

"How dare you even ask that?" Connie Welsh snapped. "It's always been like this—if we don't reach out to you, you never think to call. Do you even remember we exist?"

"I mean… I never have anything worth sharing," Abigail replied as she walked to pour herself a glass of water. "And honestly, whenever I do share something, you never seem interested anyway."

"You always seem to have an excuse, don't you? It's been eight years—haven't you been stubborn long enough? Please, come back. You're our only daughter, and we need you.

"When are you going to step up and take over the family business? Do you really want to watch all our hard work go to waste?" Connie's voice trembled with a mix of desperation and sincerity.

Abigail had long built up a defense against Connie's relentless pleas, yet she couldn't shake the weariness settling deep within her. All she could manage was a distant apology.

"I've never forced you into anything you didn't want to do. But now, your father's health is failing with each passing year. The board members are circling like vultures, ready to take over the family business.

"You have no idea how much it hurts him—at his age, the stress has turned his hair gray. It breaks my heart to see him like this. Abigail, do you really not care about us anymore?"

Connie's voice cracked with sobs, each one pulling at Abigail's heart, leaving her feeling more torn than ever.

She stood before the mirror, her eyes locked on her reflection—a chaotic, disheveled version of herself, a far cry from any semblance of control.

For a moment, her mind was overtaken by a surge of thoughts.

The truth was undeniable—Abigail couldn't keep living solely for her own desires, chasing personal happiness while neglecting everything else.

As for Taylor, it had always been a love that could never be returned from the very beginning—how could she have ever hoped it would evolve into something more?

It had always been one-sided, and now she would have to face the harsh reality of its consequences.