Resent, Reject, Regret

Chapter 299 What’s Hers Is Hers

Brendan’s lips were pale, as was his entire appearance. And yet, every word sounded like a strike at an old bell. “I’ll see her even if it kills me!”

He rose to his feet and began to cough his lungs out. His body was careening with every step, but he gritted his teeth and marched toward the front door-and right into the snow.

“Stop it!” Madame Brighthall bellowed breathlessly. “How dare you blackmail your mother with your own. life? What now? You’re gonna stand outside in the snow until you die unless I reveal her whereabouts? This is how you’re going to threaten your own mother?!”

A winter gale swooped through the landscape, kicking up a chaotic swirl of snow in front of Brendan as he stood by the door. Framed by the nipping white horizon and the unforgiving flurry, his back looked small and forlorn. “I’m not blackmailing you or anything, Mom. I just don’t want you to regret this even harder than I do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If Deirdre dies, the young woman who’s been your companion over the past two years will die too… And you’ll be the one who killed her. Won’t you regret that?”

Madame Brighthall’s face turned pale. She stared at him wide-eyed, aghast.

was even more mortified.

to reveal the biggest secret between them for Deirdre’s sake!

impassive glance. “What’s hers

Charlene’s face turned ashen.

Brighthall scowled. She was puzzled, but more importantly, she felt anxious. “Brendan Brighthall, what are you saying?!” she asked frantically. “What do you mean? My companion over

feel nothing the first time you saw her? Didn’t you think she looked

summoned a strange feeling in her chest. It had been a kind of familiarity, and yet she could not pinpoint why. Madame Brighthall had passed it off as a trick of the mind back then. but now, Brendan’s rhetoric had brought

moment, Madame Brighthall looked lost. Then, she shouted impatiently, “Who is

“She’s-

the weight of fear. He was going to ruin her… all because of Deirdre! It had taken her so much effort to finally get Madame Brighthall to like her, and now he was going to yank her blindfold away and tell her,

when had Brendan been capable

simply looked at

her bones. All the privileges and favoritism the fire narrative had bestowed