Chapter 40 – Second Chance Love of the Missing Groom Novel

Diarmuid scanned through it with an impassive expression and flung the records at Whitney’s face when he was done. “You never know when to give up, do you?” he growled, and turned toward his secretary. “Take her away and get her checked.” “No, I won’t go!” Whitney cried as she wrapped herself around Diarmuid’s foot. “Please, you have to believe me. He’s just trying to set me up…” “Why would I do that? I have nothing against you,” the doctor countered. Diarmuid lost all his patience right then, and barked, “Take her away already!” The burly men standing behind his secretary promptly dragged Whitney away from him, and despite her reluctance, she was forced into the pregnancy tests.

The results were out after just half an hour, and Diarmuid’s secretary returned to him to report, “Ms. Cox was never pregnant. In fact, she’s currently on her period.”

Diarmuid glowered right then. So that was why he saw the blood trickling out between her legs… and for some reason, the fact that she was never pregnant left him breathing a sigh of relier!

At the bottom of his heart, he was not eager to have a child with that woman, and things were just right now. “Bring her here,” he said fatly.

“Yes, sir.” ‘The secretary lest again.

With the truth revealed with irrefutable evidence, Whitney could no longer try to lie her way out of it.

All she could do right now was to cry a river as she did all she could to plead for mercy, while looking utterly miserable. “Please, Diarmuid, forgive me this one time… Didn’t I save your life? I only did all this because I love you!”

Somehow, Diarmuid was becoming calm instead of angry or irritated. “You love me?” Diarmuid repeated her words with much irony. “Is that how you love someone, by deceiving them?” “No… That’s not it. It’s just that I made a mistake because I was so in love with you, I didn’t mean to deceive you!” One must admit that Whitney had a way with words…

There was no going back for Whitney, but she was still trying her best to weasel her way out of guilt.

Meanwhile, Diarmuid’s lips were curling coolly. To think that this woman could be this unreasonable… To think that she would attempt to deceive him with a pregnancy!

He would have made her wish she was dead, if not for the fact that she had saved him that night!

“Whitney, I won’t hold it against you this time. But know this, I’ll only tolerate your nonsense this one time, and I don’t want to see you ever again. Cross the line again, and there will be no mercy!”

Then, rising to his feet, he told his secretary, “Let her go.” “Yes, Mr. Althoff.” Her secretary gestured for the men to release Whitney then.

“Diarmuid…”

Nonetheless, Whitney lunged toward him again, begging through tears and snot, “I didn’t mean to do this…!

“Keep bugging me, and I’ll make sure you don’t get to stay in this city!” he said with an even tone, but there was endless intimidation in his words.

Whitney finally let go of him then, and dropped to the floor with an ashen face. Her plan to fake a pregnancy could have propelled her to become Mrs. Althoff… but it ended up ruining everything instead!

Mrs. Althoff?

Right now, the mere sight of her disgusted Diarmuid, and that was the only thing he felt about her now! She had lost so much more than what she had paid for now, and she was beaten with no hopes of salvaging anything! She had failed, losing Diarmuid and any chance to rise above! Even so, she was not resigned to her fate-how did it turn out like this?!

At the Central Hospital, Mrs. Watson arrived with excellent food.

Abigail was certainly surprised to see her. “Why did you come here, Mrs. Watson?”

“Mr. Althoff told me that you’re sick and need proper nourishment,” Mrs. Watson explained as she brought out each of the food containers. “He told me to bring you food everyday until you get discharged.”

Everything she brought was exceedingly nourishing to the body, and thanks to Mrs. Watson’s immaculate culinary skills, Abigail felt her appetite stirring just from looking.

It was time for her to eat anyway, and so she must admit that Mrs. Watson arrived with perfect timing. “Thank you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to thank me!” Mrs. Watson smiled. “I’m just an old maid-you should be thanking Mr. Althoff instead, because he’s the one who told me to do my best in caring for you. The ingredients here are top of the line, too. He really spared no expense!”

As always, Mrs. Watson was eager to bridge their relationship. Abigail simply smiled, but she was far less than accepting inside. Was she a horse that Diarmuid was giving the carrot-and-stick treatment?

She had lost a child!

Did he think he could make amends just by throwing some food her way? He could dream on!!!

After two bowls of broth, she felt sull, though it was uncomfortable lying down with a full stomach.

“Is there anything you’re craving?” Mrs. Watson asked. “I can get it for you.” “I have this bitter taste in my mouth,” Abigail replied. “I would like something sweet.”

The bitterness might be the pain from losing a child, she thought to herself.

“Okay. I will bake you a cake tonight,” Mrs. Watson said as she cleared the table.” Peaches are also in season right now, so I will buy some too.”

“Okay,” Abigail said as she lay down.

Mrs. Watson arrived in the evening punctually as she promised, and she stuck to the schedule for the rest of the week.

Since she was also cooking different types of food everyday, Abigail felt enough appetite and recovered much of her energy. As she tried to get off bed and walk independently, she felt no pain or discomfort in her belly.

After the latest checkup, the doctor said, “You’re recovering well, though you really should be careful. Miscarriages often involve other injuries in your womb, and while your child appears to be in good condition at the moment, there is no telling what can happen during later stages.

Abigail certainly understood that. “I will be careful.”

Returning to her ward for dinner, she read another medical textbook as she usually did

-one of her few ways to kill time since life in the hospital was exceedingly boring.

If she slept during the day, she would not have an easy time falling asleep at night.

This time, she was reading until twelve, and she finally put down her book when her eyes felt dry.

As she slowly dozed off and time ticked away amid the quietness of the hospital, the door to Abigail’s ward slowly opened, and a towering figure strode inside.

There was a single night light staying lit within the ward, but it was quite dim. Still, Diarmuid ensured that Abigail was sound asleep before closing the door behind him and walking to her bed.

He studied her, and saw that the color had returned to her face. It was the case over the past few days, and her cheeks were now almost vibrant and her lips a French pink hue. Her jet-black hair was spread loosely, with a strand sprawled over her brow, but that only adds to her attractiveness.

Diarmuid could not help reaching out to caress her cheek, the tips of his fingers feeling the delicate texture of it.

He furrowed his brow.

Perhaps his touch tickled her, for Abigail turned her head, and Diarmuid promptly withdrew his hand.

“Urgh…”

Abigail turned around in bed, and kept sleeping with her back facing him.

She shrugged off hier blanket when she turned, so Diarmuid pulled it over her before lying down beside her on what space was left on the bed. He leaned his face against her nape, and wrapped an arın around her-blanket and all-before falling asleep as well.

Despite the darkness of the night, there was warmth and sentiment in that room.

Diarmuid had already left by the time Abigail woke up in the morning, and she was completely unaware that there had been a visitor last night.

Mr. Watson brought breakfast at eight, along with plenty of fruit. She ate them after she had her meal, and sat on the couch beside the window to breathe in the sun.

---