Resent, Reject, Regret Resent Reject, Regret By Aqua Summers Chapter 257

Chapter 257 Don’t Tell Brendan

The cleaner had wanted Deirdre to embarrass herself so much that she had made. sure to leave a
thick puddle of soap powder on her path.

Deirdre had always considered herself lucky to be able to work in such an accommodating restaurant,
where everyone treated her with kindness and respect, but after today, that opinion changed. She had
managed to make a few enemies after all.

“It’s fine.” She extended her other arm amid her agony. “Please help me out. If I get changed now, I can
still make my shift.”

The Good Samaritan was hard-pressed to go against someone so stubborn, so they led the way.

The entire session was hell from beginning to end. Deirdre’s right hand could not conjure its usual force
to press the keys, and it felt like there was an invisible thorn jabbing her elbow. She knew the
customers were watching, though, so she forced herself to play despite the pain. By the time it was
over, her back was bathed in cold

sweat.

Her shift was finally over. Like clockwork, Sam appeared outside the restaurant to escort her home. He
stepped forward as soon as Deirdre came out, but he easily noticed her ashen grimace and froze. She
looked like she was suffering.

“Miss McKinnon? Did something happen? Are you okay?”

“N-Not now, Sam.” Deirdre’s voice was frail. “Can you get me to the hospital, please?”



The secret was revealed the moment the doctor inspected her. Her elbow had swollen into an alarming
blue-and-black bump and was covered in a bit of blood. He waited until the treatment was over before
glaring at Deirdre. “What happened, Miss McKinnon? Did someone bully you at work?”

“No! I slipped while I was walking.” She denied it quickly, forcing a smile. A few moments of silence
later, she dropped her voice into a hush and asked, “Can you please keep my hospital trip a secret
from Brendan?”

“Why?”

“Because Brendan will go ballistic and conclude that I’m incapable of taking care of myself and I should
quit my job,” Deirdre replied, looking down. “But I don’t wanna stay in the mansion forever. My job… It’s
very meaningful to me.”

Sam hesitated. He was ultimately powerless against her incessant plea, so he

nodded. He drove her to the mansion, but as soon as he pulled over, he received a text. He gleaned it,
and a frown crept onto his mien.

He got out of the car after Deirdre. “Miss McKinnon? Mr. Brighthall wants you to visit him in his room.”

Last night flashed across her mind despite herself. Her left hand found itself

pressing against her chest, her fingers grabbing a fistful of cloth. She found even the simple act of
uttering an answer difficult. “O-Okay.”

Deirdre began to fitfully erect mental walls of defense before pushing Brendan’s door open. In a flash,
she felt his telltale, stifling presence bearing down on her. She could feel the heat of his fury, barely
contained behind the man’s steely facade, and her breathing hitched. Her face turned pale.

“Do you know what time it is?”



Deirdre’s mind went blank. The trip to the hospital from work must have taken more than an hour. As
she bit her lip, Brendan answered his own question.

“11:49 p.m.”

He leveled his dagger-like eyes at Deirdre’s face, which was growing paler by the second as her fear
increased. “You didn’t listen to a single word I said, did you?”

“N-No!” She cried, shaking her head and cupping her right arm.

Unfortunately, that was the only defense she could muster. She could not come up with any follow-up
arguments. Should she admit to her injury? Brendan would just consider it proof of her incompetency to
survive. He would then forbid her to work

anymore.

She exhausted her mind to make up a believable excuse. “I was working overtime! The customers
stayed a little longer than usual tonight and wanted me to play a few more songs. T-That’s why.”

Brendan laughed, but a new layer of chilling frost filled his glare

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