All Chapters of Forbidden Agreements: Chapter 221 - Chapter 230

"Abi." Once more. Moreau tightened the touch on her stepfather's upper arm. Slightly pressing the fingertips, giving pain, so that the man would wake up and realize. However, it took several details of effort to drag Abihirt out of the ensnaring nightmare. She thinned her lips. It was a little difficult to ensure a closer look when the back of the sofa limited the remaining space between them. It had to be by getting out of the way. That's what Moreau did when she finally half bent down and smothered Abihirt's lips there. She didn't want her stepfather to make any more significant noise and wake everyone up. Perhaps she felt wrong for doing so. There was no choice. Her bright blue irises were glued to a face that looked confused. Abihirt was sweating badly, and immediately pushed Moreau's hand away, while the man's lips parted to snatch a breath while still sounding excited. "What are you doing here?" Abihirt asked after a few moments of calm. Moreau did no

"You shouldn't act up in front of your uncle. Don't forget that we really need him. What will you do to feed your future wife, if he no longer cares about anything you do?" It was still quite early in the morning, but Moreau was sure she was not mistaken in recognizing someone's voice that almost resembled a warning; a whisper; and other relevant things. She had only intended to go to the kitchen, had found her stepfather still sleeping in the living room, but thought that Barbara would be out of the room soon. Shouldn't have any business with that man for now. Even the conversation between mother and son in the kitchen, involving Abihirt, was not to be added to the list of interests. It was just that there was an assumption about hearing a story in its entirety. Gloriya and Froy's conversation would of course continue, and this was where Moreau chose to stay silent, observing what she might be able to take in well. "It's useless, Mom. You know how I've been to Uncle Abi

All it took was the act of opening the door for Moreau to step into her own room. However, there was a special urge that made her hold back, fixated on observing Abihirt's form still there, in the living room, sitting back with his laptop on his lap. Occasionally she would also catch the man massaging his own nose or rubbing his temples, and seemed to be trying to really focus on the monitor. Abihirt not feeling well? The gesture said it all, but Moreau didn't have enough courage to approach. She didn't want to swim in clear water when it would make it murky. People were sober; busy; and possessed of enough instinct to be suspicious. Something that would not be better than nurturing a caring attitude towards her stepfather. There was Barbara. It had to be Barbara. She could vent everything to her husband. Moreau just didn't understand why her mother was nowhere to be seen. Still sleeping? That would be in an odd crisis, since Barbara always woke up early. Perhaps

"Are you sure you can take care of everything yourself, Darling? Gloriya and I might be gone for a while. We'll shop for a few things that are needed. Gifts for my coworkers won't be overlooked either. Don't forget to heat up your potato soup if you want to eat, okay?" It was already quite noon, Barbara quickly grabbed the bag placed on the edge of the bed while paying attention to every detail of her husband's activities. Not once did Abihirt leave the monitor's attention. She would try to understand how the man was too busy, though for a moment the expression on that handsome face seemed to frown oddly at the word 'gift'. Trying not to be affected. Barbara immediately curved a faint smile, then approached the man who did not respond to her words. She placed a light peck on a jaw that felt rough. Slightly rubbing it as Abihirt glanced over briefly. "Don't overexert yourself when you're sick. Remember to rest. There is Gabriel who will help you with your work. You

Moreau blinked rapidly after reconsidering the narrative lodged there. A clue didn't exactly sound odd, but she found it hard to agree. Suddenly believing that such a concept sounded impossible. It was hard to imagine inconveniencing the doctor. Perhaps it shouldn't be done. There was a master bathroom adjacent to the kitchen. It was only a few steps away. Finish everything there. It was not a complicated action. Moreau looked down for a moment to take in her appearance. A towel .... Guessing it wasn't bad enough to just whisk her out, or should she have craved the prospect of importance, where there were no similar problems with water flow in the other bathrooms. Yes, hopefully. Slowly, while making sure the ends of the towel were securely fastened, Moreau's steps began to move towards the main door handle. Staring for a few moments and not immediately pressing, let alone opening it too wide. Peeking. That was the first thing she did, then held her