Novel Name : Resent, Reject, Regret

Resent, Reject, Regret Resent, Reject, Regret By Aqua Summers Chapter 1

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Chapter 1 That Child Has to Go

“Mrs. McKinney? Congratulations! You’re one month along!” The doctor’s excitement only made

Deirdre McKinnon’s face pale. It was as though something had drained every drop of blood from her

body. “Are you, uh, sure?” she asked gingerly. “I’m certain what I had was just gastric pain. I don’t think

a pregnancy would be even possible. Can you just… check again?” “Mrs. McKinney, have you had sex

in the past month?” “Y-Yes?” “Did you use protection? Did you take the morning-after pill?” Deirdre

thought about all those times Brendan had ravaged her and shook her head. “There we go,” the doctor

concluded with a smile, as though he could not understand her incredulity. “You had unprotected sex

and didn’t take the morning-after pill. Of course the probability of getting pregnant would be high. Why

would you think it’s impossible?” Deirdre had no counter-argument. She clenched her hand around her

chest, hesitated, and asked tentatively, “C-Can you… amend that report for me, doctor? Make it state

that I’m not pregnant. Please, just do this one favor for me. I’ll pay you! I’ll pay you handsomely for your

trouble, I—” The doctor frowned. “I’m gonna have to stop you right there, ma’am. Our establishment

does not break the law, and what you’re asking me to do is a crime. Now, if you’ll excuse me…

Next!” Deirdre’s fingers were pressed against the report as she slipped out of the hospital, staggering

and unsure what to do. The streets outside were as busy and bustling as she had left them, and yet

something was holding her back from crossing them and returning home. She was terrified. What if

Brendan found out? Tolerating Deirdre’s existence alone had exhausted his patience—he would

terminate her pregnancy in a heartbeat. Deirdre traced a circle gingerly on her abdomen with a

trembling finger. She looked down, eyes staring. She really wanted to keep the child. However, as her

mind furiously searched for a plan, the man in question called her before any ideas could take

form. Deirdre balked a little, but she ultimately answered the phone. The voice that reverberated from

the other side was a low, baritone grumble. “Done? Get back here. Now.” Brendan’s patience was

notoriously minimal. She was only allowed to leave his sight for an unforgiving 30-minute window. The

journey back home was a nerve-wracking one, and by the time Deirdre arrived at the manor’s living

room, Brendan was on his way down from the second floor. He had just left the house’s restricted

area. Brendan Brighthall was wearing silky pajamas today, and his undone collar exposed his chiseled

chest in all its magnificence. He’d had time to groom his hair into a slicked-back hairdo, and his facial

features were unforgettably and arrestingly handsome. It was his physical perfection—a kind of beauty

that could only be found in one out of a million men—that had captured Deirdre’s heart six years ago.

She had been bewitched into becoming his unloved, long-suffering wife for two years. A cigarette

rested between Brendan’s fingers, and a thick stench wafted about him and invaded Deirdre’s nose. It

reminded her sharply that she was now pregnant, so she instinctively held her breath. Then, she heard

him ask, “What did the report say?” Deirdre held her breath even harder so that not even a sigh would

escape. She hoped against hope that she could fool him. “I-It’s all good! Yep. No p-problem at

all.” “Then explain your vomiting spree back in the family mansion.” “Gastric problems!” Deirdre

pressed her lips, determined to avoid his black, unfathomable eyes. “I-Irregular eating schedule, you

know? It’s, uh, something I’m used to having…” The air thickened around them, and the silence was

grotesque. The man seemed to have cast his eyes on her, as his gaze was burning her from above the

stairs. Deirdre bit her lip and clenched her hands in a panic. Just as she thought her jig was up,

Brendan walked past her and headed to the couch. “Lunch. I’m hungry.” Deirdre was stunned. Relief

dawned upon her in small but tangible doses, and she dashed into the kitchen. She had always been

good at cooking. Her meals contributed a lot to the scarce peace that existed between the two of them

outside of their monthly gatherings at the family mansion. Brendan adored her cooking enough that he

sometimes came here just to help himself to it. Still, the biggest reason he ever showed up here was

because he wanted to see… her. The meal was ready in half an hour. It was a modest course, and

Deirdre filled Brendan’s bowl with chicken broth and took a seat by his side. She then ate in

silence. She had not always been this graceful and elegant. Brendan had hammered all that upper-

class decorum into her throughout the years so that she would now emulate some sort of composure.

At least her eating habits were no longer jarring to observers. There were still some things Deirdre

could not replicate. She could never, for example, exude as much elegance and class as Brendan. No

one could possibly get bored of watching him eat. She got to her feet, ready to wash the dishes as

soon as the meal was over. As she reached out for the dishes he had used, Brendan suddenly spoke

up. “I talked to Steven. You’re going out with him later.” Steven Young? That was Brendan’s personal

assistant. Deirdre froze mid-action. “Where are we going?” she asked hastily. “Do they want me to visit

the family mansion today? Or is this about her old friend… Um, if it’s nothing urgent, can we postpone

the visit until tomorrow? I just had a check-up, so I was hoping I could—” “You’re going to the

hospital.” He did not even look up from the table as cruel words fell out of his lips. “I really thought

you’d play ball and take your pills, Deirdre. That child has to go.”

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