Chapter 84 The Person That Night was Ophelia
Finnegan hadn't left.
Seeing Finnegan behind the door, Ophelia was a mix of surprised and guilty, especially since she had just assured Seraphina she'd have no further dealings with him. Yet here he was, inside her home.
"I'm back," said Finnegan casually, with the tone of a husband waiting for his wife.
Ophelia felt momentarily out of place in her own home, hesitant to even step inside.
"Why haven't you left?" she mustered the courage to enter, immediately noticing the massive bed dominating the small space.
The bed seemed to be at least king size, which looked utterly out of place in such a cramped house.
She used to sleep on a full-size bed.
Now, it was a king-size bed.
"This bed is imported from Europe and is extremely comfortable. Try lying on it," Finnegan suggested.
"The bed isn't the point. Why are you still here, Mr. Abbott?"
Finnegan spoke as if it were obvious, "You left your keys with me. How would you get in if I wasn't here?"
"It's not that..." Ophelia found herself at a loss for words. Were they even on the same wavelength?
She noticed a laptop on the coffee table, surrounded by a stack of Abbott's Corporation documents.
A more troubling thought struck Ophelia, "Mr. Abbott, have you been here all day? You've turned my place into your office?"
She couldn't understand how Finnegan felt so entitled to remain.
"I didn't know when you'd return, and there's a lot going on at the company, so I made do here for a while," Finnegan began packing up his laptop, "It's getting late. You should rest."
'Is he actually just waiting for her all day?'
Unable to figure Finnegan out, and torn inside, Ophelia waited until he was about to leave to say, "Mr. Abbott, don't come here anymore. Let's pretend we never met, and stop toying with me. There are plenty of women out there for you to..."
"Ophelia," Finnegan's tone was icy as he cut her off, "I am not a casual man."
Ophelia fell silent.
"Get some rest," Finnegan said, every word deliberate and none wasted, as he grabbed his files and laptop to leave.
He didn't press too close to Ophelia. He maintained a polite distance, giving her space and respect.
...
Downstairs.
In a black sedan, Atticus was surprised to see his boss emerge so soon.
He half-expected him to stay until the morning.
Kicked out in the middle of the night?
"Mr. Abbott."
Atticus hurried out of the car to open the door for him.
Finnegan slid into the vehicle, his expression unreadable, a mask of indifference that even Atticus couldn't decipher. The situation was unclear.
One thing for sure was that Mr. Abbott was in pursuit of Ophelia.
Atticus settled into the driver's seat, started the engine, and headed towards Orchid Garden.
In the back, Finnegan leaned back, eyes closed in repose.
Catching a glimpse of him in the rearview mirror, Atticus ventured, "Mr. Abbott, I got a call from the manager at The Ritz-Carlton this afternoon."
At this, Finnegan's eyelids flickered open, his gaze icy.
"The footage we wanted had been overwritten without backup, but the manager recalled that, before the automatic override, somebody had requested the surveillance. That person had a copy. I've sent it to your email."
With a click, Finnegan could discover who had left his room that night.
"There's no need for that now," said Finnegan, an inkling forming in his mind. Otherwise, he wouldn't be seeking out Ophelia.
Before confronting Ophelia, Finnegan learned accidentally from the department head that the morning following their work dinner, Ophelia had been seen leaving the hotel.
Which meant Ophelia had lied to him—she didn’t leave the night of their liaison, but the next morning.
Why did she lie?
Why did he feel such a strong sense of familiarity with her?
The scent of mint, the cascade of black hair…
Every detail pointed to one conclusion: the woman that night had been Ophelia.
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