Resent, Reject, Regret Resent Reject, Regret By Aqua Summers Chapter 298

Chapter 298 He Just Can’t Let Her Go

“Goddamn it!” It was the first time Madame Brighthall had ever been so apoplectic. She shot daggers at
Brendan and snarled, “Haven’t you reached rock bottom yet?!”

Brendan took a deep breath. “Yes! Which is why I need Deirdre. I need to atone!”

“And what if she doesn’t want your stupid atonement?” Madame Brighthall retorted.

Brendan felt a pang in his chest and clenched his fists. “I’ll make her accept it.”

Madame Brighthall turned to face a statue of Mother Mary. “No, I don’t think it’ll work at all. Do you
really think she’d be eager to leave because of me? No. It’s because she hates you to her very core.
She wanted to escape you and never see you again in her entire life. If you’re really seeking
atonement, then put everything about her behind you and settle down with Lena already. Treat her as
though she’s already

dead!”

“Never!” Brendan snapped unthinkingly. Without flinching, he demanded again, “Where did you hide
Deirdre?!”

Madame Brighthall ignored him.

A coughing fit seized Brendan, but he marched over to the stairs to get to the first floor. Just two steps
in, he lost his footing and fell.

“Bren!” Charlene’s eyes reddened, and she tried to help him.

He slapped her hand away coldly.



He was clearly still seething from their previous conflict. Charlene bit her lip and cursed the fact that
that. b*tch was still alive-and that Brendan had somehow found out about it too.

The young man’s sickness had tortured his features into a terrible grimace, but he still stormed up the
stairs and began searching every room. Madame Brighthall was so appalled that she cried, “You’ve
gone. insane! Lena is right here, right next to me! The two of you are going to be engaged on the 28th!
The two of you are going to get married! But you… You are throwing a hysterical tantrum over another
woman right in front of your bride-to-be! How could you do this to your future wife?!”

Brendan suddenly fell to his knees, startling the older woman. His downcast eyes revealed no change
in his resolve as he groaned. “I’ve never begged you for anything, Mom, but this time… I’m begging
you… Tell me where Deirdre is! She’s suicidal and she’s acted on it multiple times already. Now that
her mother’s. gone, she’s got nothing left in this world. She might…”

He scowled, remembering the day when Deirdre had thrown herself off the ledge. The despair in her
eyes

The hopelessness on her face before she…

His heart ached. “The only way for her to live is to have her by my side! I have to find her-I need her
back! I owe her too much and I can’t have peace until I’ve atoned for it all!”

“Why you-!”

Madame Brighthall pressed her hand against her temple. The world was spinning. She had never seen
her son in this freakishly mulish state before. It took her minutes to finally find the voice to say, “I
promised her I wouldn’t say a word about her whereabouts, okay? You want to atone? Then think! Has
it never occurred to you that the only time she truly feels free and happy is when she’s freed from
you?”.



1 know,” Brendan muttered under his breath. Of course he did.

His head was splitting. His sickness was acting up, and his limbs were growing weaker. His vision was

filled with black spots, and his attention waned. And yet, he still had enough clarity in him to answer his
mother’s question.

Yes. He knew. The problem was… He couldn’t let her go.

Maybe he was selfish. Maybe he was an *sshole. But he knew that Deirdre’s absence suffocated him,
and every moment without her stung with regret, longing, and pain.

He knew one thing for sure: Without her, he was going mad.

Brendan looked up at his mother. His face was ashen and grave. “Are you really content to see your
only son steadily going mad?”

Madame Brighthall shut her eyes in exasperation and staggered backward a little. Never in her life had
she imagined her son would lose his marbles over a woman who had appeared out of freaking
nowhere.

“If you do not tell me where she is, I’ll find her myself. There will be clues, I know. I don’t care if it takes
me a week, a month, or a year.”

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