Tommy immediately started pouting again, his eyes puffy and welling with tears.
“He’s upset because I didn’t let Abigail carry him,” Sheryl said.
Tommy in turn nestled his face against Diarmuid’s neck and sobbed, “But Mommy really wanted to carry me.”
Sheryl was speechless. “Who would want to carry you? You’re so heavy.”
Tommy merely clung tightly to Diarmuid’s neck. “Daddy, take me upstairs. I want to see Mommy.”
Diarmuid sat on the couch instead and told him, “Grandma didn’t let Mommy carry you because Mommy is sick. How could you throw a fit because of that?”
Tommy blinked his round, bright eyes. “Mommy was so nice. She’s smiling. She’s not sick.”
“She’s smiling because she didn’t want to worry you. It doesn’t mean she isn’t sick—be a good boy and listen to Grandma.”
Tommy nodded, as if he understood, his eyes still puffy and red.
“Now that’s a good boy. Come here—check out what I bought you,” Diarmuid said.
“What is it?” Tommy asked expectantly, leaving Diarmuid staring at him for a couple heartbeats.
Did he already forget what he asked him earlier?
Still, Diarmuid did not remind him. “You’ll know when you see it.”
He had Elliot buy it for him, but it would not fit in his trunk, so he asked that the seller deliver it to the hilltop mansion director.
The wooden crate that stood over seven feet tall sat in the courtyard, and Tommy ran over on his little legs and gave it a good smack.
What could be in there?
Diarmuid had the chauffeur help open the crate, cutting the rope around it.
Inside stood a seven-foot Bumblebee.
“Wow!” Tommy exclaimed in awe, and happily hugged one of the legs. “It’s so huge!”
Standing nearby, Diarmuid asked, “Are you happy?”
Tommy nodded, and Diarmuid pointed at the compartment behind which could fit a person, along with control sticks to move it.
“You can sit in here,” he said.
“So cool!” Tommy gasped, already forgetting the unpleasantness before as he happily moved the Bumblebee around the courtyard.
As he made the Bumblebee raise an arm one moment and lowered it the next, Diarmuid told Eagle to keep an eye on Tommy while he returned inside the mansion.
Heading upstairs to the second-floor bedroom, he found Abigail lying in bed, where a glass of cranberry juice that was almost finished lay on top of the bedside drawer.
Diarmuid remembered that she was having her period, and sat on the bed, asking, “Are you feeling better now?”
Abigail opened her eyes, her eyelashes batting slightly.
Abigail’s voice was hoarse as she began, “Hold me, Diarmuid.”
Diarmuid did so, leaning in and wrapping his arms around her through the blanket, asking her softly, “Do your hips hurt?”
As Abigail stayed silent, Diarmuid chuckled. “What’s gotten into you? Hmm? Tommy’s eyes were red and puffy, just like yours. Are you going to cry too?”
Abigail sniffled. “Tommy was crying?”
“Oh, he’s enjoying himself out in the courtyard now,” Diarmuid said, his expression turning serious. “What about you?”
Abigail returned her hug, burying her face over his chest. “I just miss you.”
“Me too.” Diarmuid chuckled.
“I love you, Diarmuid.”
That was the only way she could tell him that she cared about him—because she could not tell him about her biochemical pregnancy.
When Diarmuid lowered his gaze at her, she quickly averted her eyes.
Even as tears trickled off the corner of her eye, she played it down and said, “Don’t look at me. I’ll get embarrassed.”
Diarmuid pulled the blanket up over her shoulders as he replied, “Yes, ma’am.”
She then pulled it over her head. “I’m drowsy. I want to sleep.”
Diarmuid’s gaze darkened even as he watched her, but he whispered softly. “Yeah. Sweet dreams.”
He soon left, gently closing the door behind him, and headed downstairs.
Heading outside, he called out, “Eagle.”
As Eagle made his way toward him, Diarmuid asked, “Did something happen today?”
“No, sir,” Eagle replied after thinking about it.
“Are you sure?”
Diarmuid’s sharp gaze seemed to pierce right inside a soul, and someone as stalwart as Eagle had to keep his head down to avoid his gaze. “Yes… I’m sure.”
He thought about it again, but there was nothing weird about today—save from taking Abigail to the hospital.
Moreover, she had told Eagle not to tell anyone, so he was not about to make the decision on his own.
Though he was left in a dilemma for a while, he eventually decided to hold his tongue, and instead mentioned Neil. “Actually, sir… Dennis Turner’s boy ambushed her at the entrance of Hotmesh Research.”
Diarmuid sighed. “Got it.”
It was true that Abigail would be frustrated as long as the incident was not resolved.
Was she acting weird because of that? Either way, Neil must be placing some serious pressure on her.
Whipping out his phone, Diarmuid called James. “Let’s resolve Dennis Turner’s death soon. We’re going to the precinct again tonight.”
“Yes, sir.” James replied.
Returning inside the mansion, Diarmuid took his car keys, and Sheryl saw that he was leaving again. “You’re leaving? It’s dinner soon.”
“Eat without me,” Diarmuid replied. “I have something to do.”
“What’s the hurry? You can have dinner before you leave,” Sheryl insisted.
Diarmuid stayed silent for a moment, and said, “Yeah.”
He left after dinner, while Abigail stayed in her room, excusing herself from dinner while sleeping.
Something was clearly weighing on her mind, which motivated Diarmuid into wanting to kill two birds with one stone sooner.
And he would do that by working on Neil!
…
When Neil was brought to the CEO’s office of Twinrise Enterprise, Diarmuid was sitting behind his desk.
Sending someone to make some coffee, he said, “Please, sit.”
Neil asked warily, “Why did you bring me here?”
“Abigail Bernstein is my wife. What do you think I’d do after you sued her?” Diarmuid asked bluntly.
Believing that he was in for a beating, Neil scrambled for the door, but he was stopped!
Diarmuid simply reclined against his chair, crossed his legs and said calmly, “You’re not leaving without my permission.”
Neil wheeled on him. “What do you want?! I won’t settle even if you kill me! Your wife killed my father and I’m not about to withdraw the lawsuit because of your threat. Do you think I’d be an honorable son if I did?!”
Diarmuid actually raised a brow.
The kid was certainly an honorable son… just a little lacking in brains!
“My wife is not the reason your father died.”
Neil almost lost it right then. “If it’s not her, then who is it?!”
Diarmuid frowned at Neil’s short fuse.
“Your father was murdered. The police are building a case as we speak.”
Neil did not buy it at all. “You’re only making excuses for your wife. Do you think I’d believe something so outrageous? Do I look that stupid and gullible to you?”
Diarmuid really wanted to tell Neil he certainly was—he certainly was reluctant to speak with Neil’s type, who always seemed to lack something in his cranium.
They even discovered that he was working at a Fortune 500 company when they did a background check on him.
How did he even get his job, with that measly bit of intelligence?
And how did he not get fired?
That was when James arrived with a policeman, who was the officer in charge of this case.
Neil was cowed a little right then. “You don’t have the right of reason even if you get the cops. I’m not afraid.”
James shot him a cool look. “Listen to what Officer Jenkins has to say first before you keep yapping.”
“What…” James’s eyes flashed, but he stayed silent at that.
Officer Jenkins then explained the entire incident to Neil, while adding, “We have sufficient witness and material proof.”
James had found the poisoned glass that Dennis drank from, which meant they had physical evidence.
And it was with such concrete evidence that they could build a case so quickly.
Neil, however, was still skeptical. “You just made that up to avoid responsibility!”
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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