Chapter 3 A Laughable Motive

After making sure Charlene was okay, Brendan returned to an empty living room. He then asked Steven with a frown, “Where’s Deirdre?” The question struck Steven dumb. Before he managed to come up with an answer, Brendan’s phone rang. It was a call from his mother. His mother’s laughter was heard when he picked up. “Brendan, you silly boy! How could you keep such great news from me? God, our Lena is pregnant! You gotta come home right this instant, son!” By the time Brendan arrived at the family mansion, Deirdre had made herself comfortable on the couch and was nibbling on some snacks. His mother was holding her hand in sheer glee. Deirdre’s solace was ruined as soon as she saw Brendan. She froze, lowered her head, and tried to avoid locking eyes with him. Brendan was seething with rage. However, he cracked a smirk and uttered, “Oh, this is just perfect.” So… His spineless prey had a card up her sleeve, after all. Deirdre trembled despite herself, and Madame Brighthall sensed it acutely. Furrowing her brows, she glared at Brendan and grumbled, “What’s that supposed to mean? God, one would expect the husband to have a better attitude since his wife is pregnant! Aren’t you happy about her pregnancy?” Brendan gritted his teeth and shot daggers at Deirdre. “Why wouldn’t I be happy? I am elated!” Madame Brighthall smiled and stated, “Now, that’s more like it. It’s wonderful news! The two of you have been married for two years now, you know? This has been a long time coming! I don’t care if it’s a boy or a girl—this is wonderful news for the family. You better take care of Lena, sweetie. She’s weak, remember? If something happens to her kid, I’m gonna blame you!” She seemed to have thought of something as she said, “Oops! I forgot—I’ve got some broth cooking in the kitchen. I have to check on it.” Deirdre was afraid. She then leaped to her feet and uttered instantly, “L-Let me help you!” “No, you’re staying!” Brendan snapped suddenly. He shot Deirdre a death stare before he narrowed his eyes and said, “We need to talk.” Madame Brighthall paid no heed to his glare and innocently thought the couple was just trying to straighten out some minor spat. “Gee, Lena, you don’t have to be so nervous, you know?” She smiled reassuringly and patted the back of Deirdre’s hand. “Bren might appear cold and not approachable, but I know that deep down inside, he’s positively overjoyed about the baby. He loves you, Lena, that’s why! So, talk it out with him, okay?” ‘He loves me? Oh, he loves her, alright—the real Charlene McKinney!’ thought Deirdre inwardly. Deirdre compressed her lips hard as she watched Madame Brighthall go into the kitchen. A second later, she felt a force crushing her wrist. She yowled, and the aggressor pulled her wrist up high enough to make Deirdre meet his scornful eyes. “I really underestimated you, didn’t I, Deirdre McKinnon? I didn’t think a spineless wimp like you would defy me like this, but you surprised me!” His fury was palpable, and Deirdre’s voice quaked in reply, “P-P-Please, Brendan, I… I’m not asking for much! I just want my child to live…” “You honestly think I’m stupid enough to believe you!” Brendan scoffed. Contempt and disgust pooled into his eyes. “Don’t you dare think I’m too stupid to know what you’re trying to do, b*tch. You’d rather pretend to be Charlene forever, even if it meant erasing Deirdre McKinnon’s existence, than go back to being your pathetic self. Would you really leave my sight without any complaints after carrying that unwanted thing to term, hmm? No. I don’t think so. After all, you already had the nerve to defy me! What’s gonna happen after the child is born? You’ll attract a media circus to advertise the kid’s existence? Hmph. Wouldn’t be the first time a b*tch like you would debase herself by coming up with such a disgusting plot.” Deirdre’s eyes reddened. His words were too caustic as if he didn't care if they hurt her at all. She loved him. Undeserving and insignificant as her love was, she loved him—and yet, to him, it was just another laughable conspiracy. “I… I—” “Shut up! You want to keep this child no matter what it takes? Spare me the bullsh*t of keeping the child as a memento of your ‘love’ for me when we break up. Your imagination is disgusting!” Brendan jeered, almost too gleefully. “I’m not stupid, Deirdre. I know what you’re doing. So how about you do as I say, go to the hospital, and terminate your pregnancy like a good girl? It’s either that, or you’ll feel my wrath!” Deirdre had already known the depths of Brendan’s cruelty all too well. She had known he was like this all this time. Her lips trembled. Fortunately, Madame Brighthall finally walked out of the kitchen. The strange atmosphere weighed down on her, and immediately, she frowned and stepped between them, shielding Deirdre. “What’s going on?” “Nothing, Mom. The truth is, she’s only here because she’s weirdly peeved at me today,” Brendan explained. “Don’t worry, though. We’re done talking. She’s going home with me.” “Pardon me, Brendan, but why would Lena run all the way to my house if you were a good husband, hmm? Face it. You’re just not as good as you think you are!” Madame Brighthall declared. She was not going to stand on her son’s side just because! Shielding Deirdre behind her, she cooed, “There, there. Ignore him, Lena. Stay here with me if you’re still mad at him, okay? I’ll gladly go on a shopping spree with you every day!” Brendan frowned. “Don’t, mom.” Deirdre shrank behind the older woman’s back. Frightened eyes darted across the man’s face before she clenched her jaw and replied, “You’re right, mom. I… don’t want to go back. I want to stay here for at least a couple of days.” All hell seemed to break loose inside Brendan’s head. Sheer ferocity shone through his eyes, and if looks could kill, Deirdre would die of suffocation right there and then. She became defensively quiet. Then, Brendan clenched his fists slowly. The air around him seemed to have frozen in response to his silent lividity about being defied. Milliseconds crawled by until, suddenly, he laughed. “I get it. You’re mad because I’ve been burying myself in work at your expense. Alright, I hear you. I’ll stay with you here. Once you feel better, we’ll go home together.” Brendan had donned one of his most winning smiles. To Deirdre, it seemed as though her collective nightmares were grinning at her. Her breath hitched in her throat, her face paled, and it took strength for her to muster a hasty retort. “But you didn’t pack anything—” “Oh, it’s fine. I’ll only be staying for a couple of nights.” Brendan had made a ritual out of climbing to the second floor where Charlene’s comatose body rested and talking to her every night. But now, his obsession with putting Deirdre under surveillance had grown so much that he was okay with leaving his beloved at home! Anxiety gripped Deirdre. He was never going to let her go, was he?! It was this kind of realization that caused her to feel despair and even more fear—she knew that even if she was safe from the man’s most overt wrath in the day, she’d still have to sleep with him in the same bed at night. That night, Brendan entered their bedroom first. Deirdre balked for about half an hour before steeling herself enough to greet her fate beyond the door. The first thing that crashed into her was the suffocating weight of an entire mountain in the air. Across the room, Brendan was sitting on the balcony in his silky pajamas. The wind swept across his hair and lifted strands into the air. His eyes seemed to have melted into the night surrounding him, and suddenly, he was less man and more of a nocturnal beast prancing in the dark, waiting to pounce on its prey. Deirdre was shaking in fear as the man opened his mouth. “Over here.” She obeyed him fearfully. As she inched nearer to the young man tremblingly, a strong arm suddenly emerged from the darkness. He held her neck, and she saw the burning rage in his eyes. “How—f*cking—dare—you, Deirdre!” She quivered. “So that’s what you’re asking for, is it, McKinnon?! You need to be taught a good f*cking lesson!” He fumed. He tore open her clothes. The night chill pricked her skin and sent a jolt reverberating through Deirdre’s system. She cried out in panic, “No, Brendan! What are you d-doing?!” The grip around her throat did not soften. He slammed her against the balcony table. Deirdre caught sight of the reflection of her husband’s face—so beautiful, yet twisted in bloodcurdling, callous rage. “What am I doing? What do you f*cking think?!” He held the back of her shoulders roughly and pinned her down. “Isn’t this what you wanted, you f*cking c*nt? You wanted my child, so you did everything you could to f*ck me, didn't you? How else could a b*tch from the slums like you even attract a man’s attention? “You can’t possibly think I have no clue how pathetically excited you are about being f*cked. You practically spread your legs for me, begging for me to f*ck you every single time!” he snarled. “Okay—I’ll make your f*cking wish come true!” Deirdre’s eyes widened in panic. Her child—something bad was about to happen to her child!