Chapter 225 – Second Chance Love of the Missing Groom Novel

Harvey huffed, “Do you even have a conscience?!”

“Your mother can be discharged now. I can help you with the arrangements any time,” Abigail said flatly. Harvey was left at a loss for words again. She was killing him!

“I guess both of you are reptiles-you’re made for each other. Even if I wasn’t doing everything you tell me, I’ve at least worked hard to get in your good graces because you saved my mother-how could you hurt me so?”

Abigail did not even look at him. “That’s your two minutes. I’m going back to work.”

Speechless once more, Harvey eventually growled between his teeth, “You’re a horrible woman. I was blind to actually have feelings for you… Only someone like Diarmuid Althoff would fall for you.”

Abigail paused for a moment just then before hurrying off.

The way she left as if she was trying to escape left Harvey stumped. “I don’t need your help to get my mother discharged!”

Abigail did not respond at all, as if she never heard him, leaving him huffing. “Hey!”

She still ignored him, leaving him even more speechless.

Yvaine’s body was buried three days later with utmost secrecy.

Diarmuid never invited everyone to the funeral. To him, the Althoffs had no right, and he did not tell Abigail either.

Mick had been staying in the country just to wait to attend the funeral, only to find out that it was already over, and he did not even know where Yvaine was buried.

When Mick went looking for Abigail, she asked in return, “Right now, I’m his mother’s killer. Do you think he would tell me? If he wanted me to know, do you think I would still be here working?”

Mick was left speechless even as she continued, “Just return to Minerva already.”

-Mick was not giving up. “Can’t you ask-”

“No,” Abigail said, cutting him short.

Mick said quietly, “I just want to see her again, pay my respects…”

Abigail promptly turned to leave.

Mick did not quickly give up after that, and went looking around for a long while.

Eventually, he decided to give up for the time being. Although Diarmuid was keeping things tightly under wraps right now, he could try again later and have an easier time when Diarmuid let down his guard.

He booked a ticket on a flight back to Minerva, and took a taxi to the airport when a semi nearby spun out of control, crashing into the taxi he was in.

The taxi was barely recognizable and the driver died on the spot, but Mick survived and was rushed to the hospital.

Abigail had been busy lately and spent most of her time at the hospital.

Diarmuid was busy too, but she did not know what he was busy with-he was not around whenever she got home, though he would be on the other edge of their bed occasionally when she woke up in the mornings. Today, she headed home early since Mrs. Watson called her, saying that Tommy had been crying a lot for a few days now.

They had no idea what was wrong-Tommy would keep crying even with Abigail carrying him, and he only stopped when she took him out of the house.

Soon, he fell asleep over her shoulder, and she carried him back inside when she saw Diarmuid’s car at the garage.

He is home?

However, he was not in the living room when she returned inside, so she asked Mrs. Watson, “Is he home?

“Yes, he’s in the study,” Mrs. Watson replied.

Abigail headed to the study, but soon scowled and did not try to impose.

Meanwhile, James Cross was standing in front of Diarmuid’s desk in his study, hanging his head as if he did something terrible.

“I’m sorry, sir, I’ve failed.”

Diarmuid looked up at James, staring at him for a couple seconds and growled, “He survived,”

James replied. “Yes, but the driver didn’t.”

“Clean up the mess. Compensate the driver’s family generously.”

“Yes, sir,” James said.

In fact, he felt guilty because the staged traffic accident was meant to kill Mick, only to end up hurting an innocent.

“Also, you should take the trip to Franconia to check on the company for a while, sir,” James added.

“Yeah,” Diarmuid flatly replied.

His face was impassive, and the air around him seemed cold enough to freeze.

He raised a hand, gesturing to James that he could leave.

He had been sulking for days, and James actually became careful with his words around him.

As he closed the door to the study and saw Abigail in the living room, he asked, “Could you show more concern to Mr. Althoff?”

The atmosphere everyone had to work in was suffocating–even Stan was refusing to show up at Diarmuid’s home. He used to hate going to the office, but he was now basically camping there and refusing to leave. However, it was not as if Abigail did not want to care–Diarmuid needed time to let his mother’s death sink in.

After all, Yvaine had just died a few days ago. Was Abigail supposed to make him laugh already?

Was that even possible?

He had never been that type of person, and there was even less chance of it happening now.

She understood his pain too.

“Give him time,” she said softly.

“I just think it’s worrying that he stays like that,” James said earnestly, feeling that Diarmuid was brooding too much.

He could vent his heartache by yelling at someone, but he stayed silent instead, creating a suffocating atmosphere for everyone around him.

James was worried that he would get ill if he kept holding it in..

“Yeah,” Abigail said.

James sighed. “I’ll be going now.”

Abigail nodded, and after James left, she started toward the bedroom when the door to Diarmuid’s study creaked.

Diarmuid had opened the door, and seeing her, he said, “Come in. I have something to tell you.”

“Tommy is asleep. I’ll tuck him in first.” Abigail replied.

Diarmuid said nothing, so she took it for his silent approval

As Abigail headed to Tommy’s room and put him in his crib, he started to twitch and looked like he would wake up, so Abigail picked him up and patted his back gently until he slept again.

Her hand was numb by the time she put him down and left, though Tommy was not waking up any time.

soon.

She gently closed the door as she left, and flexed her wrist as she headed to the study.

When she opened the door, Diarmuid turned toward her, his towering frame shrouded by the radiant glow of the sun behind him, illuminating his face and portraying him as even more lofty.

Abigail hesitated for a moment before slowly entering.-

She had never studied him in such silence–he was not even thirty, but he carried an air of maturity, composure, and passion.

His visage was as serene as a placid lake, devoid of any ripples.

Even so, Abigail’s chest hurt–she did not like this feeling.

She walked up to him as she repressed her bitterness, and looked up with a faint smile.

Diarmuid then frowned, his expression unfathomable.

“You said you have something to tell me?” she asked.

“Yeah. I’m going to Franconia,” he said, before adding, “It might take a while.”

“Will you attend Zacahary’s wedding?” Abigail asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied.

She suddenly threw her arms tightly around his waist. “I’m going to miss you.”

Diarmuid did not move or say anything–his body actually stiffened just then.

Abigail then stood on the balls of her feet to kiss his icy lips, but he moved away as soon as their lips. touched.

“Attend Zachary’s wedding in my stead if I’m not back by then,” he said, and pried her hands off himself. “I still have stuff to do.”

In other words, he was telling her to leave.

Abigail was left standing there, his rejection and coldness cutting her like knives.

She could not stand this feeling, nor did she want to suffer with him like this.

“I have something to tell you too, Diarmuid, about your mother’s death…”

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