Resent, Reject, Regret

Chapter 802

Chapter 802 Is He With You?

Deirdre looked up. “But why would he hide it from him? Do you really think Brendan’s scared of a guy like that?” “Well…” Mrs. Engel faltered.

Deirdre flashed a smile. “I’m going back to bed.”

She turned on her heels and made her way back inside. The reveal did not make her feel anything in particular-instead, it just reminded her how talented Brendan was at acting. She almost bought it and believed that maybe, deep down inside, he did care about her or love her.

Deirdre had only just stepped inside her room when she heard the sound of Mrs.

Engel trying to call Brendan’s phone.

The call never connected.

Two days passed. One day, Deirdre propped the side of her head with her palm and asked, “So… That Mr. Jensen guy came back?” “Like clockwork, that man. He left after learning Mr. Brighthall was not at home, at least.” Mrs. Engel looked unsettled.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Miss McKinnon. He seemed very unstable today. He was still himself two days ago, but today… God, his eyes were beet red. Do you think… Do you think he might have gone crazy?” 2 “If he has, it is still Brendan who made him. It has nothing to do with us,” replied Deirdre.

She paused and added, “But we should probably be extra careful for these two days.

Let’s not leave the house if we can, and don’t ever let him in.” ‘You got it!” Mrs. Engel began cleaning up the dishes from their table. “Mr. Brighthall is coming home today, right? Three days, he said. Today’s

the day.” This text is © NôvelDrama/.Org.

Deirdre cast her eyes outside and said nothing.

The man did not appear even as the night had fallen. Unsurprised, Deirdre finished her dinner and went straight to her room to sleep. By this point, the usual discomfort associated with her pregnancy had lessened enough that she could sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Then, in a state of grogginess, she heard the sound of the door opening. A weight began to sink at the edge of her bed.

Deirdre’s eyelashes quivered. She could feel the man’s eyes beaming down on her and the weight of his body pressing against her before kissing her lips.

The kiss woke her up. She opened her eyes abruptly and sensed the man’s body pushing against hers. Her face turned pale. “Brendan?”

The man answered with a selfish kiss.

She hit him on his shoulders as hard as she could. She could not tell which part of it, but the man suddenly curled into himself slightly and groaned.

“Brendan…” Deirdre was startled. Then, she smelled it-the metallic scent of blood.

“Are you hurt?”

Brendan threw his arms around her and pulled her into a cuddle. Shocked, she did not mmove. The stench of blood filled her nose until it seemed to suffocate her chest.

“Whatever injury you have, Brendan, you should get it dressed. Mrs. Engel’s just downstairs, and she’ll definitely call the doctor.”

Deirdre had skipped asking him what had happened since she was sure the man would never answer her anyway.

“It’s not a problem.” He finally spoke, his voice strangely husky. He began to sniff her his hunger palpable. “I’ll just stay like this for a while.”

Deirdre clenched her fists. ‘You’re crushing our child.”

That did the trick. The man finally rose-and then fell forward, the floor next to her bed breaking his fall.

“Brendan!” Deirdre cried out, her fingers clawing desperately to catch him. The man was already unconscious.

Her mind blanked. She could not help him up alone.

When she heard a racket outside, she was about to put on a coat and called for Mrs. Engel. She stumbled outside just in time for Sam to catch her, who immediately asked, “Is Mr. Brighthall with you?”

Deirdre nodded, and Sam chuckled tiredly. “I knew it.”

Deirdre felt a tinge of unexpected panic. Brendan was not acting like himself. “He, uh, fell to the side of the bed.”

Sam entered their room hurriedly and turned the light on.

Every part of his body that was covered with bandages was oozing blood. A sickly ashen mien shrouded the man’s handsome features like a mourning veil.

Deirdre stood under the door, her fingers clutching her sleeve. “Is he okay?”