The courier could feel the chilling presence Diarmuid was projecting, and gingerly replied, “Are you Ms. Bernstein? I’m from City Express, and I will need your signature for your parcel.”
“Who’s the parcel from?” Abigail asked.
“A Mr. Gooding, ma’am,” he replied.
Abigail promptly turned toward Diarmuid, and noticed his jaw clenching-she was just looking from a particular angle, but could still sense the displeasure he felt.
She could tell that Diarmuid guessed that it was Harvey, who deliberately sent it even though it would incur Diarmuid’s wrath.
Meanwhile, the courier quickly sidestepped Diarmuid and squeezed his way in, passing her the receipt to be signed before handing her the bouquet of ninety-nine roses. “Thank you.”
Abigail smiled in return as he quickly left the room, feeling as if this was the worst delivery he had to make yet.
Walking up to her, Diarmuid asked, “Do you like it?”
“All women would,” Abigail replied as she picked up the card from the bouquet and read it.
Diarmuid snorted and snatched it out of her hands and read it before she could.
[I only wish that I can be in your heart, and my heart is too small for anyone but Abigail! Divorce Diarmuid already-I will marry you instead. I miss you]
you. Oh,
[To Abigail from Harvey, all my love.]
His wording was as obvious as it was flirty, and Diarmuid’s face darkened while his turn red after he was done.
eyes seemed to
Restraining his temper, he asked Abigail, “You want a divorce so that you can marry Harvey Gooding?”
Abigail never had time to read what was on the card, but she could tell that it was nothing good if he was that upset.
Still, she knew upsetting Diarmuid was inevitable when she agreed to play along with Harvey’s plans, and that was her plan anyway.
“Yes,” she replied.
Diarmuid tore the card into pieces then, his murderous intent overflowing, though he soon softened at the sight of Abigail’s plastered foot. “Don’t even dream of a divorce. Like I said—I’ll destroy any man you have!”
With that, he kicked the door open with a loud bang!
The crash was so violent it almost broke the door right then.
He was really furious!
Abigail flinched in surprise, her heart skipping a beat when she saw Diarmuid’s furious visage, somehow feeling sympathy for him just then.
Was she actually out of line…?
Bzzt-
That was when the phone she kept under her pillow vibrated.
Composing herself, she picked up to see that Sheryl had sent a video of Tommy. He was awake and looking everywhere without focusing on anything.
Abigail remembered how red his skin was after he was born, but he had since become fair- skinned and even had a faint pink blush.
He was just so small and adorable.
She clasped a hand over her lips, her eyes turning watery just then.
She was separated from him almost soon after she gave birth, before she could spend any time with him.
She missed him so much-she wanted to cradle him and kiss him.
All her remorse about upsetting Diarmuid hence vaporized. There was no way she could relent now! Her child needed her, and she must return to her side as soon as possible!
If she wanted to be free of that man, she must make him agree to a divorce. That was the only way she could be with her own child.
That was when the door suddenly swung open, and Abigail quickly hid the phone beneath her sheets and looked toward the doorway.
Stan was there with several other men-he was courteous toward Abigail these days after learning that Diarmuid cared about her.
“Mrs. Althoff, the doctors are saying that you can be discharged. He’s also asked me to send you to the mansion.”
Diarmuid’s wording for those orders was hardly that polite.
“I know,” Abigail replied.
As Abigail hung her head, Stan said, “Please pack her belongings, Mrs. Watson.”
Despite what Stan said, Mrs. Watson just had to pick up Abigail’s laundry and nothing else.
After she was done, Stan brought a wheelchair, and Mrs. Watson helped Abigail to get on it.
With the men he brought, it looked as if Stan was afraid she would run away, and the overkill was enough for Mrs. Watson to tell that something was wrong. “Did you upset your husband again, Mrs. Althoff?”
Abigail said nothing.
“Why?” Mrs. Watson simply could not understand, and disliked that about her.
Abigail could get along with Diarmuid and have a blissful married life with him. How many women would die for that?!
“Because-”
Before Abigail could finish, however, they watched as Stan stomped on the rose bouquet Harvey sent, leaving an utter mess before telling Abigail, “Mr. Althoff’s orders.”
Abigail remained impassive-she did not really like those roses anyway.
“Do whatever you want,” she said flatly.
“Was that from the man who visited you earlier?” Mrs. Watson asked.
“Yeah,” Abigail replied.
Mrs. Watson felt utter disappointment right then. “Why would you accept it if you know it upsets Mr. Althoff?”
“I want a divorce,” Abigail said flatly, leaving both Stan and Mrs. Watson speechless.
Feeling that Abigail really did not know what was good for her, Stan snorted. “You’re tactless.”
Abigail chuckled but did not bother explaining.
As Stan wheeled Abigail out of the hospital, they saw Samantha White and Lionel Bernstein enter.
Lionel looked terrible and it was obvious that he was here for a consultation, but when he saw Abigail, he quickly went up to her and asked worriedly, “Abigail? Where have you been the last few months? Where’s your mother?”
Abigail glanced at Samantha who stood beside him. “You have your lover over there. Why bother my mother?”
Llonel glowered and huffed, “I know you two were hiding from me, but I’m telling you—I won’t divorce her! She can hide all she wants, I will-cough!”
He hacked violently before she could finish, and Abigail saw that his lips were pale.
As a doctor, she could immediately tell that he was sick, so she said softly, “You’re here to get checked, aren’t you? Go in already.”
Lionel was still clutching his chest and coughing violently for a while before he could speak. Wheezing, he asked, “What happened to your leg?”
“I fell,” she replied flatly.
“Is it serious?”
“No.”
“Oh, that’s enough! You’ve been sick for so long, Lionel-quit wasting time and get better already,” Samantha said, tugging at Lionel’s sleeve. “I’m the only one who cares for you, and you’d rather care about someone else…”
Lionel shot her a glare. “Shut up!”
Samantha was naturally upset by that reaction. “How am I wrong? They were hiding for months because they didn’t care about you at all, but you had to get clingy instead. Can’t you see how indifferent she is? She’s now Mrs. Althoff, she’d never bother herself with you
“Let’s go, Stan,” Abigail snapped then, not having the mood to play along with Samantha’s antics.
Lionel wanted to say more, but Abigail had already gotten into her car, and he was left sighing. Still, he never looked away even after Abigail’s car sped into the distance, while Samantha kept tugging at him. “She’s gone already, so you don’t have to look.”
After that, Lionel underwent a series of tests. Once the reports were filed, Samantha brought them to the doctor, who had a somber look on his face after reading them.
“What’s wrong with me, doctor?” Lionel asked as he sat opposite the doctor.
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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