He certainly was aware that they had trust issues, or she would not have done everything she could to run away from him just because of something he said.
That was why he would do his best to avoid giving her the sense that he had something to hide from her.
James then explained, “Blue Hill Asylum’s director just called, saying…”
It was nothing worth hiding, but Abigail might be uncomfortable with what he was going to say.
However, the more secretive he was, the more Abigail was interested.
Noticing that Diarmuid’s expression was turning colder, James braced himself and said, “Your grandfather sent a woman in for Ian Althoff to… make a baby. The director was calling to ask if we should let the woman in.”
Diarmuid laughed with icy disdain when he was finished—it could have been to mock Henry Althoff’s hilarious behavior, or how outrageous the whole thing had been.
Even James felt that it would take a genius to come up with a plan like this.
“I guess they really are desperate. It’s actually hilarious how they could come up with an idea as stupid as that.”
Turning back to the question at hand, James asked, “So? What should we do?”
Diarmuid looked up at James.
“Do you really have to ask?”
He had kept Ian locked up in an asylum so that he suffered, not to have a good time.
Allowing him to procreate? Hah! James understood right then.
“No, sir.”
“Good,” Diarmuid growled.
They eventually arrived at Abigail’s hotel and Diarmuid delighted with her, while James drove straight to Blue Hill Asylum.
Abigail had been holding back for a while, but now that James was gone, she immediately asked, “Did Ian Althoff have a mental breakdown?”
She did hear that Ian was staying at an asylum, after all.
Diarmuid simply held her hand and led her inside.
“He will soon.”
Abigail was speechless.
What was ‘soon’ supposed to mean? Still, Diarmuid was not inclined to discuss such an inane issue, so Abigail did not ask him—she had a general idea anyway.
In fact, she was fine with whatever torture Diarmuid was subjecting Ian to after he abducted Tommy.
However, she could not hide the guilty look on her face as she remembered her son.
“How’s Tommy?”
“He’s fine,” Diarmuid replied.
“He can speak more words now, and he’s been running everywhere since he learned to walk.”
That was why he had gone to that auction in Minerva—to buy the castle so that their son had more space to play in.
Their current house was not small, but there was not much space to play aside from the living room — Sheryl had to take Tommy to parks and playgrounds every day.
Abigail was at once happy and hurt to hear that, and when Diarmuid stopped to turn and look at her, she avoided his gaze, afraid to look him in the eye.
“Did you think of him when you left?”
“I did,” Abigail said quietly.
“But he’s your son, and I know you’ll do your best to protect and care for him.”
Diarmuid held her gaze for heartbeats before asking quietly, “What about me?”
Abigail answered earnestly, “…I did.”
“Do tell,” Diarmuid said, his interest piqued.
“When you told me that you’re only staying with me because of Tommy, I decided that I should not use him to shackle you. You have the right to pick who you love, and…”
“And you faked your death to leave me.” Diarmuid’s gaze turned dark.
” Should I thank you for your generosity?”
Abigail reared her chin at him.
“You’re welcome.” Diarmuid said nothing, but his step quickened as she pulled her back to her room.
Once inside, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to bed, while Abigail turned, doing her best to hide her scars.
As he put her down, she leaned on her side and kept one cheek visible, but Diarmuid hovered on top of her, gently turning her face.
“You don’t have to hide from me.”
Even so, Abigail was still uneasy with revealing her flaw and she was used to hiding it.
Diarmuid simply lay by her side and nestled against her neck while stroking her bulging belly.
“I love you, Abigail,” he whispered alluringly into her ear.
As Abigail’s fingers clenched on her sheets, Diarmuid brushed his fingers over her cheek lovingly.
“I wouldn’t want more children from you if I didn’t love you. Just ask me if you have any questions from now on—don’t run off again.”
Abigail hid her face on his chest.
“Okay.”
“I missed you so much,” he said, and leaned in, his lips brushing over her soft hair to kiss her forehead, her eyelid, her nose, and eventually her lips…
His kiss reached deep as he wrapped his arms tightly around her, and she felt limp and sprawled herself in his arms, unable to resist.
His hands began to go further, his icy fingertips sliding past her neck, to her chest, and down her blouse…
Iren’s eyes widened, and promptly caught his hand, shaking her head, “No.”
The baby took priority.
However, Diarmuid’s juices were stirring and he wanted to melt into her, because she had always been in her mind.
“I’ll be gentle—”
Abigail held her gaze.
“Not now.”
It was not exactly impossible, but she refused to do it when she looked like this.
Diarmuid’s libido was flaring, and he pursed his lips in silence for a while so that it would pass.
He still felt a little antsy afterward, but he restrained himself and simply embraced her, using conversation to divert his primal instincts.
“Is it a daughter this time?”
“I don’t know,” Abigail replied—she never checked.
“I’ll love them whether it’s a boy or a girl,” she said, stroking her belly—they were her children regardless.
The thought left her sighing, however.
“It’s all your fault.”
“Yeah,” he mumbled as his lips were pressing against her shoulder, but he did not regret switching out her contraceptive pills.
In fact, he wanted more children with her.
At the same time, drowsy and tired, Abigail closed her eyes, dozing off soon enough.
On the other hand, Diarmuid could not—before this, it was because he missed her so much, but now it was because of sadness.
The scar on her face reminded him that she actually believed that he did not love her, and yet, she pushed him away from that bomb with all her strength.
She was so stupid.
And he loved her for that so much it hurt.
As the medical forum began the next day, Abigail got herself a makeup artist to hide her burn scars.
She did not want her face to scare people or draw attention to herself, and her clothes covered most of it as well. She was Zidonian, but since she worked at Mead Clinic, she, Dr. Pitt, and another doctor took the front row seats reserved for them.
The other front row seats were reserved for the hosts and the vice- chief of Hotmesh Research.
Soon, everyone took their seats, and it was a grand assembly of cardiovascular specialists.
However, the supposedly academic forum became unfriendly in the name of profit.
Abigail took a sip of the water on the table when she noticed a shady figure at a corner.
She walked up to him and realized that it was…
Mark Wickers was acting all shady and suspicious as he sneaked into the forum, and was craning his neck while waiting for the right timing to get a seat.
“Mr.Wickers,” Abigail called out to him.
As Mark turned around, he stumbled backward when he saw her face, barely keeping his balance as he quickly kept a hand against the wall.
“A-Are you a ghost?”‘” he stammered.
Abigail remembered that she had mostly healed from her burn scars.
It was natural that Mark would be spooked to see her now, since he would still be convinced that she was dead.
“No, I’m not dead,”
Abigail tried to explain.
“What?!””
What was going on? How did she come back to life?! “Look, now’s not the time for that,”
Abigail quickly said.
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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