Resent, Reject, Regret

Resent Reject, Regret By Aqua Summers Chapter 300

Chapter 300 There’s Still Time

“T-Then… Then who is this?!”

Brendan clenched his fists. “The year when you objected to our marriage, Lena got into an accident and went into a coma. No one knew if she would ever wake up again, but I knew you would never let me marry an unconscious woman. The only means I had was to find someone else to pretend to be Charlene. And that impostor… was Deirdre McKinnon.”

Madame Brighthall had not liked Charlene the first time Brendan had brought her home. The older

woman had prided herself on her acute judgment of character and had known based on the greed and ambition in her eyes that Charlene would only be the start of a nightmare.

Naturally, she had objected to her son’s marriage.

But then, one day, Charlene had just… changed.

Madame Brighthall had been befuddled to see the same calculating woman carrying her on her back through the snow when the older woman had had a heart attack. She had been bewildered to hear about that schemer nursing her to health for days on end. She had been stupefied when she had seen the young woman’s face break into a bashful, mirthful grin when Madame Brighthall had finally woken up.

That young woman had never asked for anything in return. She had come down with a fever for her effort, and all she had done was take some medicine and go about her day. When asked, the same young lady had said she simply felt it had been the right thing to do.

It was moments like these that had slowly moved Madame Brighthall into acceptance… and then some. Madame Brighthall had cared and protected her because she’d genuinely liked her.

And now, Brendan was telling her that the Charlene she had come to sincerely love had been Deirdre all along.

Madame Brighthall felt as though the world was going dark. She thought of the verbal abuse she had hurled at Deirdre. God, her heart ached. She fished out her medicine and swallowed it, her hands shaking.

“Why… Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Brendan turned his eyes to the floor. Why? Because he had not cared about Deirdre at all back then. Her purpose had been to clear the road for Charlene’s eventual ascension as his wife. Why would Brendan botch his own scheme? Content bel0ngs to Nôvel(D)r/a/ma.Org.

Madame Brighthall pressed her hand against her chest. A long silence later, she wrote something on at piece of paper and folded it. “I don’t know if she’s still living here, but this is the place she specifically said she wanted to go to, Maybe… you’ve still got time…”

Brendan’s eyes glinted with excitement. He took the paper from her hand, his chest undulating with a wave of emotions. He opened it, and the address leaped into his view.

A pang hit him. This was Deirdre’s old address.

she

She had left this place with her mother back then so she could “work” as his impostor wife. And now, had returned to her real home, bruised and battered, coming back to her roots worse off than she had started.

How forlorn she had to be to end her journey like this! He could only imagine the desolation she must have felt…

Now was not the time to think. He muttered an apology and bolted out into the snow despite his illness. His cough had become sputters. His ears were ringing. His throat and entire body were protesting the

strain he put them under.

But he wanted to see Deirdre, and he wanted to see her fast.

He fell face-first into the snow. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Sawyer running toward him, his breaths visible as he cried out to Brendan. He grabbed hold of Sawyer’s hands and breathed. “Find her…”

“Who, sir?”

“Her.”

“Dee Dee? Time for lunch!”

Madame Russel pushed the door open, only to find Deirdre crouching over a patch of dirt, shoveling a spadeful of dirt patiently. The yard had been abandoned for a long time, and Madame Russel could not help but remark, “Ophelia was really into it back then, huh? Some flowers there. A tree over here… I could smell them every time I passed y’all by. But now, in the blink of an eye, they have all withered.”

Tall grass had come to claim the garden as soon as it was bereft of its matron. Winter had been the only thing stopping it from growing about a meter tall.

Deirdre flashed a smile. “It wasn’t the blink of an eye. It was four long years.”

“Four long years….” Madame Russel parroted in a daze. She shook herself out of it and removed some of the grass. “Let’s head back.”

She led Deirdre to the living room and brought out a bucket of warm water. As Deirdre washed her hands. and face, she scurried inside the kitchen and brought out their meal.

A thought popped into her mind, and she smiled.

“You know, you came at just the right time. Toby’s coming home today!”