Brendan Doesn’t Deserve You
The maid fell onto her knees pathetically.
"B-But Madame Brighthall, Miss McKinsey’s going to marry Mr. Brighthall! She’s going to be our
mistress very soon, and we… We can’t possibly say no to someone like that! What if Miss McKinsey
holds grudges against us—"
"You're telling me… You cower before her so-called authority while I’m still alive!?"
"Madame Brighthall?"
Asoft, quiet voice flitted through the room from upstairs.
The older woman turned around.
Deirdre was standing at the stairs, her expression placid. Her eyes were not even red.
"Madame Brighthall, it was not a big deal at all." She continued flatly.
"They aren't wrong to think twice about keeping her out.
Charli’s going to be the next mistress of the family, and if they refuse her entrance on your behalf, it’s
only going to become a point of conflict between you and your daughter -in-law."
"Dee!"
Madame Brighthall felt her words choking in her throat. She could imagine just how smug Charlene had
been when she deliberately egged Deirdre on with that invitation and felt a pang in her chest.
"Don’t listen to that woman.All she’s good at is spouting nonsense!"
Deirdre flashed a smile.
"So, it’s not true? Is Brendan not going to marry Charli? The invitation was fake?"
"I...I mean—"
"Don’t worry, Madame Brighthall.I’m not as hurt by this as you think I am," Deirdre interjected
indifferently.
"Brendan and I made this clear from the very beginning. He wants the child… not me."
"Preposterous!" Madame Brighthall thundered in frantic rage.
" You’ re the only daughter-in-law I acknowledge and the mother of my grandchild! You should be Mrs.
Brighthall! It’s your rightful place! Bren is the one who’s insane!"
Deirdre chuckled dryly.
"Nobody is entitled to anything by right, Madame Brighthall. Besides, I don’t love him."
The crowd was stunned.
Deirdre, however, felt only the sweet relief of release.
This was what she had always wanted to do—to be honest about the nature of their relationship and
define who she was to Brendan on her own terms.
"Brendan wants only the kid. It was the only thing he would allow in exchange for my freedom," she
added.
"I don't interfere with his marriage choice because I don't even care.So, please, Madame Brighthall,
don’t turn this into a fight between you and Brendan over things like right or wrong.There is already a
crack in your relationship with your only son.Deepening that schism will be bad for the both of you."
Deirdre had done it again—always showing concern for other people’s situation in places most people
would have ignored. Her conclusion snuffed out anything Madame Brighthall had wanted to say.
In the end, the older woman could only sigh.
"Brendan...doesn’t deserve you at all."
Now that Charlene had broken the illusion the Brighthall retinue had been ordered to maintain, the
maids no longer tried to hide any mention of the upcoming wedding.
As the days passed, the latest gossip and stories kept cropping up.
There was talk of a seaside church.
There was a discussion on how many nights Brendan spent with Charlene—the story never ended.
The entire city was delighted for Neve’s golden boy and his chosen mate, They were just bidding for
the day itself to arrive.As it turned out, Charlene’s birthday arrived first.
As usual, the festivities were hosted in the family mansion, and this time was no different.
The Brighthall retinue had begun preparing for the occasion as early as the morning bright, and one of
them even came to Deirdre’s room to remind her of the occasion.
"Miss McKinnon? There will be important guests today.Owing to your… unique role, please remain in
your room for the whole day, okay? In case you grow bored… you can always go to the second floor
and.I don’t know, walk around or whatever.No one will be there, at least."
By evening, the living room was filled with the chatter and ding of the party going underway.
Guests flooded into the residence, carrying just as many presents and well wishes.
Deirdre could hear Charlene’s overjoyed laughter from where she slept.
In comparison, her room appeared abandoned and unwanted.
Maybe it was just the silence.
Maybe it was the fact that she was alone, and the light was not even on.
One thing was for sure: Deirdre had begun to feel the numbness of boredom, as well as the growing
irritation she had over bits and pieces of the discussion downstairs.
She remembered what the maid had said.
The second floor was not off-limits, so she rose and opened the door.
The ground floor was positively swarmed with guests, but none of them ever thought of looking up to
notice the lone silhouette darting toward the second-floor stairs.
She hardly reached the balcony when she heard Madame Brighthall chiding under her best-controlled
undertone, "You talk to me right now, Brendan.There’s no one here, so no one’s going to hear us, So
you tell me the truth.Just what in God’s name are you thinking!?"
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