Chapter 298 – Second Chance Love of the Missing Groom Novel

Mick then checked his watch and got to his feet. “Time to go.”

“Go? Go where?” Stephen asked, but he was already following Mick.

“Diarmuid’s flight will arrive at six. Let’s go get him* Mick told him.

Stephen glanced sideways at Mick just then. “I thought Diarmuid and you could not exist within the same room.”

“Beats me.” Mick was as surprised as him. “I don’t know why he’s treating me differently now too.”

Stephen thought about it. “Maybe because he checked out Abigail’s belongings back at Melville Hospital.”

Mick was emotional. “If I’m being honest, I’m grateful that he can forgive me.”

Back then, he was driven by his selfishness to secrete Yvaine away, denying Diarmuid a mother as a child.

There was no doubt that it was cruel for a child, but Diarmuid was able to forgive Mick-not because he found out that Yvaine fell for Mick, but because Mick did save her and kept her alive for years.

Yvaine was always too gentle for her own good, and she would just keep getting hurt if she stayed at a place like Althoff Manor.

That was why Diarmuid was able to let go.

Mick had just reached the airport when Diarmuid disembarked, so he and Stephen quickly went to him.

“You must be tired,” Mick said in concern.

Diarmuid nodded slightly and glanced at Stephen. Still, he said nothing about his presence and simply strode outside.

Both Stephen and Mick were used to it, and they simply left with him without taking offense.

Although they were here to receive Diarmuid, it seems that Diarmuid had more appointments, and he gave his chauffeur an address instead of heading back to his hotel to rest.

They soon arrived at a mansion, and he alighted while telling everyone flatly, “I’m fine on my own.”

With that, he strode toward the mansion.

For some reason, the mansion looked unremarkable, even mundane.

Stephen asked Mick, “Is he meeting someone?”

Mick replied. “Maybe, and I think we should go. He’s not telling US because he doesn’t need our help, and I certainly don’t want to mess up his plans.

Stephen nodded in agreement.

At times like these, actions were far better than words.

Moreover, the pressure had always been on Diarmuid.

Ding dong.

Meanwhile, Diarmuid pressed on the doorbell outside, and the door soon opened!

The man who answered the door was taller than Diarmuid.

His skin was fair but rough, his hair was combed backward, and his eyes were a shocking blue, sharp and pronounced like his other facial features.

Naturally, he was not the type people fall in love with at first sight, but one would never get bored ogling him.

Standing aside, he said, “I’ve been waiting.”

Diarmuid entered.

His clothes were thoroughly wrinkled after flying in and out of the country, his collar slightly open and stubbles visible on his chin.

But it still did not affect his good looks-it added a sense of rugged maturity to him, in fact.

He flexed his neck, which had gotten stiff from sitting, as he settled down on the couch.

Sammy sat opposite him and asked, “Where is it?”

Diarmuid threw the papers on the table.

The head of the family was almost eighty now, and was barely surviving after suffering a heart condition.

Naturally, the question of who his inheritance would go to was asked way earlier than scheduled, and every eligible heir had since been competing and engaging in intrigue.

Sammy was one of them, and his partnership with Diarmuid was to claim that inheritance. However, just as Sammy reached for the papers, Diarmuid pressed his fingers over it with a dark look.

“You know what I want.”

“I’m a man of my word. After all, you agreed to a partnership because you had your eyes on my background, don’t you think?”

Diarmuid did not deny it-the maternal side of Sammy’s family was powerful on its own, with his maternal grandfather being a standing member in Minerva’s cabinet who had a say in government policy.

Though Minerva was keen on bringing international attention to what Abigail did, it was not difficult to get her out. After all, even Sammy’s grandfather needed money to keep his position and influence.

As it happens, the Raideens were dirty rich-the man was only too keen to have Sammy inherit the family estate. That way, they could sustain each other’s interests.

With money and political influence, they could go as far as they wanted- which was why Sammy’s grandfather had agreed to his partnership with Diarmuid.

‘She’s held somewhere in secret, and as you know, our country has rivaling factions just like any other. It just happens that the people who have her are my grandfather’s rivals-word has it that they’re not getting what they want out of her, so they’re resorting to coercion. Don’t worry, though-my grandfather has already rallied the people to prepare an extraction.”

Diarmuid naturally understood that Sammy’s grandfather was only motivated by profit. ‘You will rule with these papers. Feel free to check it,” Diarmuid told Sammy, and leaned back in his chair. Despite his calm demeanor, he was already panicking because of what Sammy said, but he restrained himself nonetheless.

Abigail’s throat was so dry she could not speak, and she did not dare to lower her hand stopping the blinding light burning her eyes.

Abigail’s throat was so dry she could not speak, and she did not dare to lower her hand stopping the blinding light burning her eyes.

That was when she smelled food. Though she lowered her hand to look for it, she still had to keep her eyes closed because of the glaring light.

Even if they were trying to force her to talk, they did not dare to go too far because it would escalate matters, and their opposition were already questioning their actions in this matter.

With pressure bearing down on them from every corner, they could only resort to mental duress.

“Want a drink? Or food?” They lay out everything in front of Abigail. “Admit that you’re a spy, and you can have it all.”

Abigail’s eyes narrowed. Her lips were cracked and bleeding, but she firmly shook her head.

Her fortitude was certainly shocking.

’Quit being so stubborn!”

“No, I don’t think she would last. Let’s see how much longer she can hold out for!”

The other man doubted that Abigail would stay apathetic with the temptation for food-she could resist it now, but how long would that last?

In fact, she was so hungry now that her sense of smell was sharper than usual, and the scent of foot gnawed at her as if it were drugs to an addict, eating away at her will.

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