Abigail looked up at him, and replied, “Yes.”
“Well, I’ve never done much for you,” Lionel said, “so let this be one of them while I’m still alive.”
There was so much misery in his words.
“You’ll get better,” Abigail said then. “Just follow what the doctor has ordered.”
Still, both of them knew that it was unlikely-that it was just a matter of how long Lionel would last now.”
Knowing that Abigail was trying to offer him comfort, Lionel breathed a long sigh…
“Oh, who’s this? What could have brought the great Mrs. Althoff to a humble place like this?
Samantha exclaimed as she suddenly showed up at the door, her words dripping with contempt for Abigail.
Lionel gestured for her to leave. “We’re talking.”
“What about? Am I not allowed to hear it?”
Samantha refused to leave-with Lionel on death’s door, she was worried that he would list Abigail as the sole heir in his will. That was why she absolutely would not allow them to be alone in one room, in fear that Abigail would cajole her way to the Bernstein estate.
Abigail, however, was not even bothered to look at Samantha, and simply moved her wheelchair to leave
Samantha was not about to give up. “Don’t you hate your father for making you marry Diarmuid Althoff? What, you suddenly grew a conscience to visit him? Or maybe you wanted something else?”
“That’s enough!” Lionel snapped at Samantha.
The woman simply snorted and ignored him, while warning Abigail, “You’re married and you’re no longer a part of our family. Don’t even think of getting a dime from the Bernstein estate- everything belongs to Ricky now.”
Lionel was incensed. “I’m still alive, and you’re talking about inheritance already? You really want me dead, don’t you?”
If he died now, it would be from all the stress Samantha gave him!
Knowing that she had misspoken, Samantha quickly caved and started rubbing his back. ” What are you saying? You’re my dependent…”
Naturally, she did not want Lionel to die now, because she had yet to persuade him to leave a will!
Abigail shot Samantha a look then. It was obvious to her that the woman was already gunning for the Bernstein estate, but she said nothing and left the ward.
“Let’s go, Mrs. Watson,” she said, letting Mrs. Watson hold her wheelchair then.
After Abigail had her plaster cast removed, the doctor told her that she could start walking in a few days. However, she should also refrain from anything strenuous that involved her legs, such as running.
With that finished, she checked in with Dr. Kelly and asked about Lionel, who admitted that he was in bad shape and probably would not survive for long.
The news left Abigail’s heart sinking.
“However, we will do what we can to ensure that he gets as many remaining days as possible,” Dr. Kelly finished.
“Thank you,” Abigail said earnestly.
Nonetheless, her head felt muddled as she left the hospital, and she was too distracted to finish her food during dinner. She simply showered afterward and lay down in bed.
Perhaps because work kept him, Diarmuid returned home late.
He put on a gray silk bathrobe after he showered. His tall, muscular frame looked good in anything-naturally, he was a delightful sight to behold in that bathrobe too!
He lay behind Abigail, who woke up when he entered. Still, she pretended to be asleep and did not move.
Diarmuid simply wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into him deep within his embrace. His chest was sturdy and very warm, and the sensation left Abigail’s heart racing.
She kept her eyes tightly shut and lightly clenched on the pillow when Diarmuid leaned in and whispered into her ear, “Are you sleeping?”
Abigail stayed silent, but Diarmuid’s body wafted with a faint scent of herbal freshness. Even as his warm breath spilled into her ear, he chuckled in amusement and heart-melting tenderness.” You’re really bad at pretending.”
He knew!
Abigail flinched, his body turning soft in his arms and rasped, “Why were you late?”
“Had things to do,” he replied. “Actually, I’ll be busy over the next few days as well.”
“I see. Now, sleep-it’s very late,” she replied, not daring to move or continue the conversation.
She was afraid things would spiral out of control from there.
Diarmuid was a healthy, strapping man, and he would be lying if he said that he did not want to do anything now-with the woman he loved in his arms.
Still, tensions were just beginning to ease between them. He did not want to scare her off by coming on too strong.
Slow and steady was the way forward.
However, if he were to sleep while holding her in his arms now, she would eventually accept that they were married.
*Abigail woke early the next morning, and she put the Centurion Card that Diarmuid had given her in front of him at the breakfast table, saying, “You told me that this card only has the money for the painting. I can’t take something this valuable.”
Diarmuid put down her fork. “We’re married. What’s mine is yours.”
“I’m not good with money-it’s better if you keep it,” Abigail said, deliberately avoiding mentioning a divorce.
For all she knew, Lionel would have spoken to Henry already, and she must not keep the card at all.
Nonetheless, Diarmuid glanced at the card once but pushed it back to her.
“Hold on to it for me,” he said, before asking, “Are you going anywhere today?”
Abigail stared at the card and sighed. “No.”
“Your leg has recovered, so how about going to work at Central Hospital again?” Diarmuid suggested. “I can make the arrangements.”
Abigail’s fingers clenched around her glass of milk.
She wanted to work, but she could not say yes.
If Lionel succeeded, she might really get to divorce Diarmuid soon and be free to move to Sunny City, but she would have to give up on her dream job in turn.
Bzzt-
Diarmuid’s phone suddenly started vibrating on the table.
It was a call, and when he answered it, his expression darkened right then!
“When did that happen?!” Diarmuid barked.
“I’m guessing in the last 48 hours,” Stan replied from the other end. “I just received word myself.”
“Find her!” Diarmuid bellowed then.
“Yes, Mr. Althoff.”
When he hung up, Diarmuid flung his phone at the table, smacking it loudly as if to reflect his mood.
“What happened?” Abigail asked. “Is it really that bad?”
For Diarmuid, it could well be-Whitney Cox had just been rescued by her former flame, the rich kid named Chad Ross.
Meeting Abigail’s gaze, Diarmuid told her, “It’s nothing.”
However, he would never allow Whitney to stay unpunished-she had impersonated Abigail, and had indirectly caused him to kill his own child!
On the other hand, Abigail did not dwell on the matter. She simply presumed that it was a bad day at the office, and kept eating.
After they finished breakfast and were ready to leave, Moneypenny-the butler from Althoff Manor-arrived, and told Diarmuid, “Master Diarmuid, Master Althoff is asking to see you. Please return to the manor with me, if convenient.”
“Understood,” Diarmuid replied, and turned toward Abigail, “Stay here. Take your time to rest.”
Abigail nodded her leg had recovered but was hardly limber.
As Diarmuid headed out, Moneypenny followed. Just as he stepped out the front door, he turned to look at Abigail.
When she saw the look in his eyes, she realized why Henry was asking for Diarmuid.
Did Lionel speak to Henry already? Was Henry really going to tell Diarmuid to divorce her?
Even as she moved to sit on the couch, she felt a little tense, and her eyes seemed unfocused.
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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