Chapter 128: Abigail Doesn't Care

After returning to her studio from the Graham estate, Abigail handed a property deed to Luna before attending to her work. Lewis was directing a meticulous period drama set during the fall of the Western Roman Empire, requiring extensive research. Lacking readily available materials, she visited academic institutions to consult history professors.

After spending most of the day with a professor, she gathered considerable information but still needed more research. The professor advised her to visit the library for further study.

Leaving the school, she received a call from Sean. His angry voice erupted the moment she answered. “You rushed back, making Grandma ill, just to mortgage the house I bought you? You prioritize work above everything!”

“How is she?” Abigail immediately asked.

“Do you even care? You only care about your studio! Even with her heartache, you left for the bank to mortgage the house.” He hung up.

Abigail stared at her phone, stunned. The house he bought, halfway up a hill, had been popular last year but was now deserted. The commute to the city was long, and the half-developed residential area had stalled for a year due to unforeseen circumstances. He didn't know the house was unsuitable for living. Using it as collateral was a temporary measure to facilitate Analise's visits.

However, Abigail chose not to explain this. Returning home with her research materials, she found Analise ironing clothes in the living room. A warmth filled her heart.

“You’re early,” Analise said, concerned, holding an iron. “Are you hungry? I’ll make pasta.”

Abigail shook her head. “I have work. Let’s eat together later. These clothes don’t need ironing. You should rest, Grandma.”

“You’re never home,” Analise said, smiling happily. “Clothes left hanging get damp. They need sun; otherwise, you’ll get skin diseases. I’ve aired the blankets and quilts. Change them as needed. Take care of yourself and eat, no matter how busy you are.”

Analise continued fussing.

“I know.” Abigail felt her resentment toward Cornelie and Sean vanish.

Back in her room, she felt she'd done the right thing. Only Grandma loved and cared for her, attending to the small details. Even her urgings to marry differed from Sean's grandmother's pressure. No matter the injustice, Grandma always comforted her. Since Sean and his grandmother couldn't provide emotional support, why bother pleasing them? She would work hard to help Grandma recover and buy a better house, ensuring easy care when needed.

Evening brought a call from Kevin. “What’s up?” Abigail asked calmly, continuing her research.

Softly, he asked, “Abigail, did you fight with Sean? Old Mrs. Graham is in the hospital. Why aren’t you there?”

“How is she?” she instinctively asked.

“She seems fine, but Sean asked me to check on her. Joan’s there, chatting with Old Mrs. Graham. You’re in trouble.” He sounded anxious.

“Anything else?”

After a pause, he asked seriously, “Old Mrs. Graham mentioned finding a traditional medicine doctor for you. Why didn't you explain the complaint to Sean?”

“People believe what they want,” she said indifferently, flipping through her materials.

“Alright. Talk later.” He understood her predicament.

Shortly after, Sean arrived home. Analise, having watched for his return, joyfully exclaimed, “You’re back! Wash your hands and have dinner.”

“I’ll pass, Grandma. I’ve eaten. I’ll talk to Abigail and return to work,” he replied politely.

Disappointment flickered across her face, but she smiled. “You’re busy. Alright then.” She sensed his distant coldness beneath the politeness.

Sean entered the bedroom, closing the door, and glared at Abigail. She swiveled to face him. “I checked; your grandma’s fine. What do you want?”

“She’s fine this time. What about next time?” he asked, suppressing his anger.

With an icy gaze, she replied calmly, “There won’t be a next time, Sean.”

“You didn’t return to visit them; you got the property deed,” he accused, restraining his anger.

“Think what you want,” she replied, returning to her books.

He approached, forcefully closing her book. “You promised to keep up the act. Forgotten already?”

Ignoring him, she looked up, her eyes cold. “I asked you to investigate the doctor who pricked me. Have you?”