Now, she felt at home.
Taking off his jacket , he threw it casually on the couch and strode into the kitchen.
“Abigail Bernstein.”
The woman was using the chopping board, and turned to glance at the man standing by the doorway. “Hold on a moment.”
Diarmuid naturally knew that she would not be done so quickly.
He wanted to tell her, “Let’s stay like this from now on.”
But he could not, because his ego stopped him from doing so.
He turned and left.
At the same time, Abigail turned away from him, keeping her head down even as a certain emotion briefly flashed in her eyes.
She was done cooking half an hour later–simple dishes with nothing elaborate.
When Diarmuid sat down by the dining table, he realized that there was only one person’s portion, and asked, “Aren’t you eating?”
“I’m not hungry,” Abigail replied, and sat down with him, accompanying him although she was not eating.
They were more or less married, were they not? Even though the only evidence for that was their marriage certificate and nothing else.
One way or another, they were getting along unusually well today.
…
They had breakfast together the next morning, and Diarmuid said, “I can give you a ride to the hospital before going to work.”
Abigail had not told him that she would not be working there anymore.
Keeping her head down, she replied, “I won’t be going today.”
Diarmuid simply presumed that she was still under the weather, and as such did not say anything.
“I can help you get formally appointed as a full–fledged doctor at Central…”
She looked at him then and smiled. “You don’t have to.”
Somehow, she was not used to him being too nice–she would have been in tears with gratitude before.
Now, however, she did not need that job.
Diarmuid frowned, finding her a little unusual, as the usual routine would be a harsh retort.
Still, he could not find anything wrong with her after staring at her for heartbeats, and eventually left the table.
Abigail continued to take her time with her food, and turned around for a moment when she heard the front door close.
After she finished breakfast, she told Mrs. Watson, “I’ll get the laundry soon.
“Okay,” Mrs. Watson replied without turning toward her, since she was standing by the sink and busy washing dishes.
After throwing away everything she did not want, Abigail left the mansion and had the chauffeur send her to the cleaners. Then, having packed all her clothes, she carried everything to the car and told the chauffeur to drive her to a mall.
When they arrived, she took the briefcase down with her and lied to the chauffeur, saying, “I’ll get changed inside. Just wait for me at the parking lot.” “Of course, Mrs. Althoff,” the chauffeur replied.
With that, she brought her briefcase into the mall… and never came out.
The chauffeur waited from morning until around three in the afternoon. He was under the impression that women usually shop that long.
It was not until five when he realized that something was out of place. He entered the mall to look for Abigail, but she was nowhere to be found.
Finally realizing that this was bad, he promptly called Diarmuid.
Diarmuid was having a meeting at the Light Group offices, but despite his usual vigilance during such occasions, he appeared distracted at the moment.
He left his phone in his office, and his secretary brought it to him when it rang.
He answered when he saw the caller ID, and the chauffeur quickly told him, “Sir, Mrs. Althoff asked to visit Gostir Mall this morning, but she has yet to leave since.”
Diarmuid frowned. “She never left?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you check the cameras?”
“Yes, sir, but she’s nowhere to be seen.”
It was precisely because the chauffeur could not find Abigail at all that he realized something was wrong.
On the other hand, Diarmuid quickly did the math and caught on to what was going on.
So she had made up her mind to run away… Was that why she was acting so tame yesterday?
“Got it,” he told the chauffeur and hung up.
Standing up, he told everyone in the room, “That’s all for today. Dismissed.”
With those words, he strode out and told his secretary, “Track down Abigail’s bank records right now. Find out if she made purchases for transit tickets.”
The secretary promptly left to do so, while Diarmuid drove to the mall.
The chauffeur was panicking, and promptly ran up to Diarmuid when he saw him.
Sir.”
Diarmuid was glowering as he asked, “How long has it been since she went in?”
The chauffeur did a mental calculation. “It’s been almost ten hours now.”
“That long?!” Diarmuid’s expression turned terrifying.
The chauffeur lowered his head. “She told me to wait in the parking lot. I wasn’t concerned at first since shopping would take some time… I only realized that something was wrong when I realized that it’s almost evening.” Diarmuid’s phone rang just then, and he quickly answered it.
It was Diarmuid’s secretary, and she had finished checking Abigail’s bank records.
“I found nothing, sir. There are no records of ticket purchases.”
In reality, Abigail had sent Sheryl away before herself. Naturally, she would never board a transport that required ID or bank records to run away. Instead, she arranged for the purchase of a small pre–owned car, and kept it in Gostir Mall’s basement parking lot.
Everything down to her route was planned, so that she would avoid any cameras to make a stealthy escape.
Naturally, she had picked a mall since it would always be crowded, and she could put on a disguise to elude prying eyes.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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