Abigail’s Second Life

Money was often considered the root of all evil, and people would go to great lengths for it.

They were under close surveillance, and suddenly, the website started experiencing issues. Was it merely a

coincidence that they were being targeted?

"Whether it's a coincidence or not, it doesn't matter. You can continue investigating the issues with the website,

but if you can't find anything, we need to shift from a passive to an active approach." Sean looked at Xavien, his

gaze particularly cold.

Xavien nodded. "What should we do, then?"

Sean motioned for him to ccloser. If someone dared to play dirty right under his nose, he wanted to see who

would cout on top!

After Sean finished speaking, Xavien immediately took care of it, and Sean leaned back in his chair, his gaze

returning to his phone. Are the ten months of the competition going smoothly?

Abigail's sudden change in behavior-coming back to him and being so proactive-now seemed strange when he

thought about it.

After finishing her late-night snack, Abigail saved sfor Martin and took another portion to Andrew. As Andrew

had told her that she could enter his room by knocking on the door, she entered his room with the snack. Just as

she placed it down, she turned around and saw him coming out of the bathroom with almost nothing on.

Her eyes widened for a moment, and she quickly moved toward the door. "Sorry, | didn't realize you were taking

a shower this late."

Martin would stay up late every day conducting experiments, and she understood that, but why was Andrew

showering so late?

"Oh, it's nothing," Andrew said casually. He pushed his wheelchair to the wardrobe and randomly grabbed a

towel to wrap around himself. "Don't leave just yet."

Abigail was already at the door, but upon hearing his words, she paused. Now, she was more like a nanny and

part-tchef for the Colleen Family.

"What did you make?" Andrew pushed his wheelchair to the table and glanced at the pasta on it.

"It's ssimple pasta," Abigail replied. She didn't want to make complicated food so late and have to wash a

pile of dishes, which would be tiring.

"Don't make this tomorrow night. | don't like pasta. My father used to be busy and always made pasta, which

madewant to vomit," Andrew said slowly as he pushed his wheelchair closer to her, and she quickly moved

aside.

"Helpdry my hair," he said as he left the room, leaving behind those words.

Abigail thought to herself, So, he kepthere to bossaround! Picking out a towel, she then followed him to

the living room.

Andrew grabbed ssnacks and started munching on them while watching a .

"You should make yourself an outfit like the one the woman in red is wearing," he said to her, pointing at the TV.

"I'm here to work, and wearing that kind of outfit is not practical at all," Abigail replied, deftly drying his hair.

Andrew nodded.

As she spent more twith him, she would find that he liked to make peculiar requests, but if she refused, he

wouldn't insist. Overall, he was easygoing.

When Martin cdown, he saw Andrew snacking and immediately becangry. "I told you not to eat snacks

at night because it's not helpful for your recovery. Why don't you listen?"

"I don't want to eat pasta," Andrew answered.

"She worked hard to make supper for you. Even if you don't like it, you shouldn't say it. Maybe you should try it

before judging." Martin sat next to him with a stern face, picking up the supper left by Abigail and taking a bite.

"It's delicious," he said to Andrew.

Andrew glanced at Abigail, who set aside the towel she was holding and approached to assist him with the pasta.

She was undeniably exhausted, but what other choice did she have? Living under someone else's roof, she had

no option but to work hard if she wanted Larry to recover.

As she brought out the pasta, Abigail continued to wipe Andrew's hair gently.

"This young man, before you arrived, rarely took showers or washed his hair. He was incredibly lazy. If it weren't

for his poor health and lack of perspiration, he would probably have a strong odor," Martin casually mentioned to

Abigail.

Abigail smiled. "Is that so?"

"Yes, now that someone is taking care of his hair, he will be more diligent. His physical condition is not very

agile," Martin said with a hint.

All Abigail could say was, "I will carefully study the medical books you provided and give him a proper massage."

"Larry's condition is very promising. | will show you the test results tomorrow. If everything goes well, we should

have his genetic information in about six months." Worried that Abigail might have sobjections, Martin

shared a piece of good news with her.

Six months... That's four months less than what | anticipated, she thought and immediately expressed her

gratitude, "Thank you so much. I will follow your instructions."

"Ms. Quinn, | didn't want you to chere and take on these tasks either, but this place is highly restricted, and

ordinary individuals are not allowed entry. If you hadn't brought the prescription, both you and your friend would

have been shot as soon as you approached." With a shrug, Martin continued eating his midnight snack.

Abigail carefully wiped Andrew's hair. "May | ask you a few questions? If you don't want to answer, it's okay."

"Go ahead," Martin replied calmly.

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