Chapter 43 – Second Chance Love of the Missing Groom Novel

“Why not, Mrs. Althoff?” Mrs. Watson could not understand, but she was not aware of the nature of Abigail and Diarmuid’s marriage.

Abigail, however, believed that Whitney had every reason to overreact after recently losing her child, and she would no doubt have Diarmuid’s understanding. So what good would come of telling him?

“Just watch out, and don’t let her touch the food you’ve brought,” she told Mrs. Watson. Mrs. Watson nodded. “Of course.”

Over the next three days, Abigail was exceedingly cautious and could not sleep well at night at all, worried that Whitney would come to mess with her. She decided to get discharged-after staying over ten days here, she had more or less fully recovered.

When Zachary came to visit in the evening, she told him as much. “I’ll handle the proceedings tomorrow morning,” Zachary replied. Abigail nodded, and Zachary suddenly wanted to ask her what she would do since Diarmuid was refusing to divorce her.

Still, he refrained and instead asked, “What are you going to do, now that you’ve resigned?” Abigail lowered her eyes. “I haven’t thought about it.”

Zachary, however, could tell that she clearly had a plan but was not telling him. As such, he did not try to press her and simply got up. “I’ll be going now.”

Diarmuid arrived just then, and seeing that Zachary was there, he asked, “Can she get discharged now?” Zachary glanced at Abigail and replied, “Oh, Abigail? She’s actually getting discharged tomorrow.”

Diarmuid frowned.

Abigail?

Why did it upset him to hear that?

He never called her that himself!

Zachary saw Diarmuid’s gaze turn cool, but could not understand-was it something he said?

“I’m leaving if there’s nothing else,” he said, to avoid upsetting Diarmuid again.

Walking over and planting-himself on the couch, Diarmuid sternly ordered Abigail, “I’m thirsty. Get me a glass of water.”

His commanding tone was honestly despicable, but Abigail had no choice but to obey. She did as she was told, and after having two sips, his lips curled upwards in a grin.

“Are you aware, Abigail Bernstein?”

“Of what?”

Abigail knew that Diarmuid was up to no good even as she watched him.

And just as expected, he chuckled and said, “I love it when you suffer.”

She was left speechless for a while, but stayed calm as she retorted, “Your interests are so weird that those who didn’t know beforehand would think you’re nuts.”

With those words, she sat on her bed-she was much better now, and had gotten tired after going through some physiotherapy for the day. She then glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that it was already nine, and asked, “Aren’t you leaving?’

However, the more eager she was to make him leave, the more reluctant Diarmuid was to do so.

“Wherever you’ll go, I’ll be there,” he said as he leaned against his couch lazily.

Abigail simply ignored him and lay down on her bed, when Diarmuid said, “I’ll be sleeping with you here tonight.” Ignoring him again, she pulled her blanket to keep herself tightly enveloped, as if afraid that he would come to take it away from her.

Diarmuid smiled at her reaction in amusement, finding it rather adorable just then.

He started to tug at his own collar, suddenly finding the room rather hot… But it was already autumn, and the ward was air-conditioned. It was not supposed to be hot here at night.

In fact, he was starting to get restless as well, just before his gaze turned blurry.

He frowned.

Having lived the life he led, he could tell that his body was not in its right state given the abrupt symptoms. “Abigail Bernstein…” he growled, his voice suddenly hoarse. “Did you spike my drink?” Abigail simply thought that he was trying to start a fight, and therefore did not answer. It left Diarmuid gritting his teeth-what the hell was she playing at?! He promptly sprang to his feet and strode to her bed, but his gait was more a wobble than anything else. Whatever it was, it was no different from a gut punch! At the same time, a terrible fire spread across him as if alive, pushing toward his head.

Once he reached Abigail, he pulled off her blanket and snapped, “You really can’t live without men, can you? Resorting to something as underhanded as drugging them?!”

Abigail finally opened her eyes and glared at him. “What are you talking about? What drug?” “Not going to admit it, huh?” Diarmuid growled, but he was not angry at all–he actually loved her, and now that he was drugged anyway, he had cause to get intimate with her. And when he was done, he could simply say that it was the drugs.

His Adam’s apple bobbing then, he arched his body as he leaned toward her, his eyes looking straight into hers as he spoke with a quiet, alluring voice. “Just tell me you love me… It’s not like I’m unwilling to perform the duties of a husband.”

That was when Abigail finally realized that something was wrong when she saw that his face was flushed in crimson. However, when she tried to get up, Diarmuid put a hand over her shoulder and kept her pinned in place.

At the same time, Whitney arrived at the door with a man. Naturally, she was the one who had spiked the water, and she even brought a man, intent on capturing a video of Abigail going at it with a man, so she would have evidence of Abigail’s adultery to show Diarmuid. He would definitely divorce Abigail after that, and she would be able to rise as the new Mrs. Althoff.

However, as she quietly opened the door to let the man in, Abigail spotted her and immediately understood what was happening.

She glanced at the glass on the table which Diarmuid drank from-Mrs. Watson had brought the water to the hospital, but Whitney had obviously spiked it, which explained Diarmuid’s behavior. There was really nothing she would not do-last time, she knocked her out to perform amniocentesis on her, and now, she spiked her drink.

Her heinous nature was certainly unquestionable! Nonetheless, she quickly realized what she should be doing. Turning resistance into seduction right then, she asked Diarmuid alluringly, “We’re in the hospital right now… Shall we do this elsewhere instead?”

Diarmuid wanted nothing less than to get down to business immediately. Now that Abigail proved willing, his restraint swiftly vaporized as he growled, “So… We’re really doing this?”

“Indeed we are,” she replied, glancing at the door as she spoke. Whitney had wanted to drug Abigail, but she could tell right then that Diarmuid was the victim instead. How could she bear with the idea that her plan to split them apart was getting them frisky instead?! She promptly shoved the door wide open!

Whitney could not care less right then-she must stop Abigail from getting it on with Diarmuid!

However, when the door was abruptly opened, Diarmuid’s expression turned to a glower and he sprang to his feet. Glaring at the intruders, he bellowed, “Who let you in here?!” His glower turned even more fearsome when he saw that it was Whitney!

Still, Whitney was quick enough to respond in time. “I was going to visit Abigail…”

Abigail, however, was certainly aware that Whitney was here to destroy her. Sitting up in bed, she deliberately and intimately wrapped her arms around Diarmuid from behind.

Despite his considerable height, she was on her bed, allowing her chin enough leverage to rest on Diarmuid’s shoulder.

Smiling at Whitney, she asked, “You’re visiting me? For what?”

Despite her smugness, she was praying inwardly that Diarmuid would not push her away right then.

However, Diarmuid proved to be at once cooperative and accepting.

He loved Abigail being this close to him, and the scent wafting from her body.

Whitney’s face was virtually darkened from sheer rage at that point, but there was no way she could throw a fit when Diarmuid was standing right in front of her.

Nonetheless, she forced herself to smile. “I was on the night shift, and I was here for room inspection. I also thought I could check on Abigail and see if there’s anything she needs.”

Abigail laughed. “How nice of you!”

She then turned toward the man at the door, and saw that he was both ugly and bald. Whitney was truly ruthless!

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