Resent, Reject, Regret

Resent Reject, Regret By Aqua Summers Chapter 295

Chapter 295 He’s the Executioner

Brendan did not wait for Charlene to form an excuse. He leaped to his feet in sheer rage. “And you swept this under the carpet without telling me a single word of it! Through your silence, you agreed to have Deirdre sent to prison in your stead! Why? Because the one who would be protected with this act was you, wasn’t it? F*cking hell! Charlene McKinney… How do you even sleep at night!?”

His veins were popping out of his skin, but worst of all, he called her by her full name, as though she was a stranger.

Charlene panicked, reached out to him, and pleaded, “No, I can explain!”

Brendan swung her hand off him. He suddenly realized he did not know her

Who was he looking at?

anymore.

How could she be so calculating and cruel? How could she even think the means justified the end? She was no longer that kind, innocent young woman who would throw her life away to save others anymore. Charlene’s eyes were red. She was both terrified and panicking as she tugged on Brendan’s sleeve and sobbed. “P-Please don’t hate me, Bren… I didn’t mean for it to happen. I was just scared! I was so scared of losing you, okay!?

“I had been unconscious for two years while Ms. McKinnon and you just… Your marriage was going so strong that she was bearing your child! If I went to prison… And Ms. McKinnon brought the kid to terms…. I’m no longer relevant to your life, don’t you get it!?

“I love you, Bren! I love you so much that I rushed into the fire, even when I could have died, to save you! You should know just how much you mean to me from that alone, Bren, so how could I possibly let

anyone take you away from me?

“Besides, the gravest of my sin was my knowledge of it. But I didn’t act for or against it, did I? I didn’t hurt Deirdre myself, did I? Call me self-serving if it helps you, but just… don’t hate me! Bren!”

Charlene lunged, throwing her arms around his waist and squeezing it tight. Tears kept rolling down her cheeks.

Her antics were driving Brendan into a migraine. He clenched his fist and broke away from her unsolicited hug.

She looked up at him, still tear-stricken, and muttered, “Bren?”

“Our engagement is delayed.”

“Bren!”

“I hate being kept in the shadows, so you should count your blessings that I’ve only decided to delay our engagement,” Brendan snarled, opening his eyes. They were still and unfathomable, like the surface of a lake in an underground cavern. “Of course, I don’t blame it on you either. I’m the one at fault.”

He was the one who insisted on using Deirdre. This whole thing resulted from his idea.

In the end, he was the executioner.

“Bren…” Charlene shivered. Seeing the profound disappointment in his eyes, she suddenly felt more frightened than she had ever felt before. She knew she had disappointed him.

“I need time to myself. Don’t follow me.” Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDrâ/ma.O(r)g!

He moved toward the door.

Brendan returned to his room and opened the window. The year’s first snow had fallen, and a breeze. brought some of the flurries of white inside.

In a daze, Brendan seemed to have returned to the first snow in their marriage.

She was busy tending to the flowers in the yard even as the tip of her nose turned red due to the cold.

He was holding his umbrella over her head, startling her. She beamed at him and explained, “I was just checking if the flowers are alright in this weather, so I’ll be inside in a bit. You should head in first. The cold always gives you a headache, right?”

“Please. You’re even more prone to being ill than I ever am. I’ll get an actual headache if you turn up sick,” he replied, freeing his hand from the umbrella to her before covering her small frame with his coat.

Brendan was simply worried that if she caught a cold before their scheduled family get-together, she would spread it to his mother during their meal together. It was a simple, pragmatic calculation, yet it was enough to color her eyes red. She cried, laughed, and hugged him.

Her voice was thick with tears. Her voice was soft.

“Thank you, Bren! Thank you…”

He found her reaction comical. He threw her a little bone, which apparently was enough to move her to tears. She was so happy that she woke up early the next morning just to set some time into learning new recipes for him. The breakfast that morning was large enough to be called a feast.

For all her effort, he ate only a few bites noncommittally.

Brendan lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Fatigue and dizziness crashed onto him and finally took. hold.