Chapter 126: Don't Speak if You Don't Know How

A discreet Bugatti waited for Abigail. She approached it with a cold expression. Sean opened the door a crack. She entered and looked at him. "Aren't you going home?"

"Get in," Sean said impatiently, his tone chilly.

She got in. He grabbed her wrist as she closed the door. "What are you doing?" she asked, about to struggle.

His eyes flashed with anger. Even without speaking, his presence stilled her. Inside the car, streetlights illuminated the interior, casting shadows and light on his face, making him seem even more intimidating.

Abigail's heart tightened. Her lips pressed together.

Sensing her fear, Sean relaxed his grip. "What were you discussing with them?"

"I don't need to report to you," she said firmly.

He placed his hand on the back of her neck, his palm covering her slender neck. He forced her closer. She saw the coldness in his eyes, and her body trembled. "If I tell you, you'll deal with L. Moon, won't you?"

"If I want to deal with L. Moon, you won't be able to afford the breach of contract penalty. Understand?" His grip tightened, his tone heavy with oppression.

"Why are you so angry?" Abigail asked calmly. "I had a perfectly normal dinner with them. You think I'm cheating on you?"

His anger seemed to dissipate. He released her neck and pinched her chin, then kissed her lightly. "You were drinking Passion Coast. The name alone is unsettling."

She pursed her lips. "Is it my fault the drink is named that?"

He traced her chin. "Have you ever considered why Anthony gave you that drink?"

"Are you overthinking this? We're business partners," she replied, a hint of displeasure in her voice.

He sneered. "Him calling you 'Abby,' and thinking of you as a white lily for years Maybe I am overthinking it."

Abigail couldn't stand his sarcasm. She shook off his hand. "I'm not you. Don't judge me by your moral standards."

"What moral standards?" he asked immediately.

Leaning against the car seat, she looked out the window. "Have you addressed the situation with Joan and the bag publicly? People still think we're a couple. Handle your affairs before worrying about mine."

"Me and Joan… we…" His words were cut short by a blaring horn.

She didn't hear, nor did she want to ask.

Silence fell. Sean glanced at her. "Weren't we fine before?" he asked calmly.

Her heart ached.

"Do you want children so badly? Can't you live without them?" he pressed.

Tears stung her eyes. She glared at him. "Can we stop talking about this? Have a kid, don't have a kid, whatever. And I don't want to bear your child, presumptuous prick."

Seeing her tears, Sean said sternly, "You're about to cry after a few words."

"Stop talking then. You're so chatty!" Abigail suppressed her anger. He'd started this, yet he was criticizing her.

Sean realized their marriage was in trouble. Abigail didn't want to be with him anymore. He felt inexplicable irritation at the thought of Anthony. "Stop associating with Anthony."

She ignored him. "Look at yourself before criticizing me."

At home, Abigail changed into slippers and went to the bedroom without looking back. Sean followed her and heard her lock the bathroom door.

After showering, he was about to lie down when she said, "I'll sleep on the couch."

"Do you want your grandmother asking the same questions tomorrow?" he asked impatiently.

Abigail thought he was annoyed by her pretense, so she reluctantly lay down, her back to him. She closed her eyes, and an image of him in a white suit on a rooftop restaurant filled her mind. His charm brought back the innocent infatuation she’d felt when they first met.

She’d thought having him would make her happy. It turned out that wasn't enough; she wanted his love.

His hand rested on her waist, interrupting her thoughts. She reached for his hand, her emotions complex. She didn't want to let go of the affection she still felt.