Chapter 1029 Mere Placeholder

"Oh really? Then how did Deirdre go blind?" Mrs. Engel froze. Deirdre's lips turned pale as though someone had run a knife through her chest. Ophelia was right. Brendan had always been a cold man. Others had the luxury of remaining ignorant of it, but she was his victim. She should have that carved in the crevices of her brain, yet she had allowed herself to forget all of the pain and agony she had gone through over the years. She had forgotten about the things he had done to her. He was being nice to her now, but was it for her or for the child he fathered? Her faith in him was shaking. A thought—one that should not have come to form—dawned on her. If she had not gotten knocked up, would he still treasure her so lovingly and gently? Would he love her? It was true. Brendan had changed a lot since Emily showed up. He hugged and touched her less. Maybe all he ever cared about was his offspring, while the mother? The mother had always been nothing more but a dispensable placeholder for his affection. Chill pooled in her stomach and reached her chest, freezing her blood so much that she could no longer sit through it. She rose from the couch and announced, "I'm going to bed." Mrs. Engel shot her a worried look. Words piled on the edge of her lips, but nothing came out in the end—nothing she could say could have been any less futile. In the end, she simply replied, "Alright, Mrs. Brighthall. Lord knows you need more rest. Sleep as long as you need." Deirdre nodded. She turned, and her lonely back vanished into the stairs. - Brendan opened his eyes. The unfamiliarity of the room's interior made his mind turn blank. His head was splitting. Memories from yesterday bubbled into his consciousness. He was drinking a little with Ryker, and then… he got drunk just like that. When had he ever been so bad at drinking, though? 'Wait. Dee!' Brendan fumbled to look for his phone. He barely had time to call when he heard a series of loud, rapid knocks. Helping his throbbing head up, he got out of bed and opened it. Emily appeared, her face ashen. "M-Mr. Brighthall? Bad news!" He frowned. "What?" Emily scanned her surroundings. "C-Can I come in? I don't want people to see me here." "No," he declined instantly. "Just talk by the door. I don't want people to make up stories." "Fine, fine… I'll be brief. You went absolutely drunk while drinking with my old pal, and since Ryker was in a hurry to the airport, I got Nolan to help you up and get you to a hotel. I didn't expect people to take pictures of us both while Nolan was parking his car, and now pictures of us are all over the Internet!" "What!?" Brendan was appalled. He had no idea so much had happened while he blacked out. He went online and was immediately greeted by his name going viral. Even the pictures made them look more intimate and closer than they really were. A storm shadowed his face. The volcano in him was this close to erupting… "Someone plotted for this to happen, Brendan!" Emily said quickly. "I actually stayed in another hotel instead of the one you're staying in. I left with Nolan after we got you in here. So it's absurd that these people made it look like we had sex together!" She laughed mirthlessly. "And now the Internet has decided that I'm the hoe of the week, Lil' Miss Steal-yo-man, and sh*t like that. That I've already started getting it on with you after seeing you for a few days and whatnot." She continued. "My reputation has been dragged through the dirt." Brendan's fury dissipated. Objectively, Emily had done nothing wrong. In fact, she was just as much of a victim as he was, so he could not bring himself to say anything denigrating to her at all. "You should have brought me to the mansion!" he grumbled, irate. "It would have saved us all this drama!"