Chapter 687: In the Future, There Will Be No More Young Mistress

Abigail's hospital room was not on the same floor as Brandon Piers.

Having just gotten his wound stitched up, Brandon walked very slowly. What should have been a ten-minute walk took him over twenty minutes, with a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead.

Pullan, who followed closely behind, felt his heart clench with worry, wishing he could just carry him back to the bed.

When he reached Abigail's room, Brandon looked inside through the glass on the door. She was still unconscious, and Benjamin Jones was sitting beside her, peeling an apple. The golden light of dusk shone into the room, casting a golden hue over the person in the bed.

The window was half open, and a bunch of white daisies on the windowsill swayed gently in the breeze. From outside, Brandon could almost taste the peaceful passing of time.

Unfortunately, the one sitting at Abigail's bedside was not him.