Carrying him back to her room, she fed him, played with him, and coaxed him to sleep.
It was quite late when he finally fell asleep.
As the room fell silent, Abigail could not sleep at all, and headed to the living room.
The emptiness there was exactly how she felt, and she unwittingly drifted into Diarmuid’s study.
She sat before her desk, remembering the way he sat behind it.
She missed him so much.
She whipped out her phone to call him, but remembered that it was out of juice. As she started looking for a charger, she suddenly knocked an envelope off the desk.
As she reached down to pick it up, she saw the photo inside…
Abigail had seen the person in the photo before–she was sorting a patient’s file for Stephen, and he had told her that the patient had special privilege.
However, the patient’s photo left an impression on her because she resembled Diarmuid’s mother.
But why did Diarmuid have a photo of this woman too? Was she the reason he went abroad?
She spaced out as she pondered when the door suddenly opened.
She looked up and found Mrs. Watson standing there, asking, “Ma’am? Sorry, I thought you were asleep, and I saw a light in here…”
Abigail tucked the photo inside the envelope and returned it on top of the desk. “I was asleep, and was thinking about reading a book.”
“I see…” Mrs. Watson replied, but she was clearly skeptical.
Abigail smiled. “It’s true.”
Mrs. Watsons smiled in return. “And here I thought you can’t sleep because Mr. Althoff is away.”
Abigail was speechless–did Mrs. Watson read her mind?
Simply plucking a book without really looking, she started to leave. “You should turn in, Mrs. Watson. I’m going to bed too.”
Mrs. Watson simply kept flashing that I–know–everything smile of hers. “It’s fine, ma’am. You should do whatever you want to do. I won’t impose.”
Abigail smiled feebly–was Mrs. Watson under the impression that she was here to reminisce about Diarmuid since all his stuff was here?
She was not that desperate!
He was not gone that long anyway, while she herself was busy and there was also the mess with Whitney. She only got to miss him around bedtime!
With that, she returned to her bedroom with the book, and fell asleep after reading a couple since she was already quite tired.
She slept soundly all the way to the next morning.
When she was going to call Stephen, however, she remembered that her phone was still being charged in Diarmuid’s study.
She went over to get it, and could not help feeling a little disappointed when she turned it on to find no missed calls.
Naturally, she got a little obstinate as well and decided against calling Diarmuid, and instead called Stephen.
“Sorry, Dr. Carr–I have something to do this morning, so I’ll be coming in late.”
On the other hand, Stephen thought that the issue with Whitney got to her, and said. “It’s alright–just take the day off. You don’t have to come in today.”
“No, there’s just something I have to do. I’ll come in later.”
“That’s up to you.”
After ending the call, Abigail fed Tommy, who was now weaned–thanks to Mrs. Watson patiently weaning him every day.
He already resembled Diarmuid, and would only become more so when he was older, since he was still quite the pudgy baby at the moment.
Soon, it was eight, and Abigail left Tommy with Mrs. Watson before leaving the house.
She was heading to court–Diarmuid was absent, but she should make the trip there as his wife.
Quincy appeared utterly enfeebled, with her lips dry, her eyes lifeless, and her cheeks sunken.
She was a shadow of what she was before.
None of the Althoffs were there–Greg was still bedridden, while lan had his own trial to attend.
“The defendant, Quincy Moore, is hereby found guilty of first–degree murder. In lieu of her horrific crimes which have an adverse effect on society, the defendant is sentenced to death immediately…”
Quincy did not appear affected at all.
They were all just going through the motions–even her lawyers were there just for show.
She wished she were dead every day that she was kept under police custody, since it had been hell for her.
It was hence almost understandable that she actually laughed when she heard the verdict.
As the police escorted her out of the courtroom, Abigail picked up the scent of rot from her, and she looked physically hurt.
She probably could not get treatment inside…
However, Abigail felt no sympathy because Quincy deserved everything coming at her.
It was not as if karma never applied–it was just not the right time.
Nonetheless, as Abigail stepped out, Quincy called out to her, “Abigail Bernstein?” Abigail turned to find her smiling darkly. “Could you pass my message to Diarmuid?”
Abigail narrowed her eyes and asked coolly. “What is it?”
Quincy was already a dead woman walking, and naturally did not mind that others heard whatever she was about to say.
Grinning, she said, “Yes, I was the one who had Diarmuid’s parents murdered, and if he had not offered evidence to the court and pulled strings behind the scenes, I wouldn’t have been sentenced to be executed, and so quickly at that. However, I don’t regret anything I’ve done, so why don’t you ask Diarmuid- even if he killed me, does that bring his parents back?”
“So that’s why he said you’re heinous.” Abigail gave her a cool look. “You should have known that what goes around comes around.
Quincy snorted in disdain. “Yes, but you see–I’ve done so many terrible things to Diarmuid, and yet I’ve gotten off scot–free for years. Even if he did manage to kill me, he’s just a poor orphan! Poor boy… Haha!”
It was the first time Abigail met someone as repulsive as Quincy, and her hands balled into fist as she glared at her. “Go to hell. Also, you may think it’s over when you’re dead, but have you forgotten about your son? He’s going to suffer now.”
No matter how cold Quincy could be, she was still a mother, and lan was the only thing that could hurt her!
At the same time, Abigail chuckled as she continued, “Do you think lan would get to enjoy life with Diarmuid hot on his heels? Do you think he could beat Diarmuid? We should thank you for making Diarmuid so wary… so cold and calculating. You merely honed him by hurting him–if you’d allowed him to grow up in a happy. fulfilling family, he might not be as strong and ruthless as he is now. On the other hand, you must’ve been pampering your son since he was a weaning child. What can he do without you?”
While Quincy mocked Diarmuid for being parentless and therefore unhappy, Abigail could now knock her off her high horse because the same applied for lan too.
Her words had its intended effect as well–Quincy’s cheek was twitching in the realization that everything that she had done, including murdering Diarmuid’s parents, was merely helping Diarmuid grow.
Shaking with rage, she growled, “You little…”
Abigail remained impassive. “Rest in pieces. Diarmuid will take good care of your son now.”
She put emphasis on ‘good care“, and Quincy knew what she meant.
However, even if Quincy was going to die, she wanted her son to live well!
She suddenly dropped to her knees!
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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