Chapter 103 Clean Up Your Mess
Deirdre had been stupid. All Brendan cared about was whether Charlene lived. Why would he give a
damn about Deirdre’s innocence?
Three days passed. She never saw Brendan in her room. He even replaced Sam with a newly-hired
nurse, who quickly took advantage of Deirdre’s blindness and how little anyone cared about her. She
abused Deirdre-she would finish about half of the meal Deirdre was supposed to have before passing it
back to the woman she was supposed to care for.
Deirdre hated it. She was not going to eat a stranger’s leftovers, so she pushed the bowl away.
“Whoa! Are you actually being picky about your food? Or do you just have a bone to pick with me, huh?
You act like me eating your food is disgusting while looking like a disgusting freak yourself! God, can
you get over yourself for a hot second? You’re a nobody without family or friends, b*tch. You should be
grateful to even have a nurse helping you out!”
The nurse was enraged. Deirdre, unfortunately, became an easy target to let out all of her steam. “No,
you’re not making things hard for me. You are gonna eat this right now! If Mr. Brighthall sees this, he
will think I’ve been maltreating you!”
She shoved the bowl close to Deirdre’s lips, who struggled against her until she managed to swat the
bowl away from her, sending it hurtling to the floor before cracking into a few pieces.
“F*ck! You temper-throwing Karen!” the nurse shrieked. She grabbed a handful of porridge from the
floor and began to shove it into Deirdre’s mouth.
The door to Deirdre’s ward suddenly opened. The nurse looked up and saw Brendan in his suit and his
most dominating aura. Alarmed, she backed away from Deirdre.
Brendan saw exactly how distressed Deirdre was. Cold, dirty porridge was dripping from her jaw.
“M-Mr. Brighthall!” the nurse stammered. How could she not be terrified? Brendan was the boss who
appointed her Deirdre’s personal nurse!
To her wildest disbelief, all Brendan did was cast an apathetic glance at Deirdre before turning back to
the nurse. “What happened?”
Deirdre’s eyes reddened. He might as well have stabbed her in the chest with that nonchalance
question. He knew what had happened to her just by looking at her
right now! So why the “question?”
Because he approved of the nurse’s abuse.
Without him sanctioning her attitude, the nurse would not have dared to treat Deirdre like this. God, the
lengths he would go to torment her…
The nurse read the room quickly. She knew exactly what to say. “You have to excuse me, Mr.
Brighthall. Miss McKinnon is just difficult! I made this porridge the best I could, but she was so upset
about it being bland and not seasoned with expensive food that she wouldn’t eat it. I tried to persuade
her, but it made her so mad that she knocked the bowl off my hand like that!”
Naturally, the nurse skipped the part where she scooped the porridge back from the floor and stuffed it
into Deirdre’s mouth.
“Oh, is that so?” Brendan intoned, scanning Deirdre with a twinkle of danger in his narrowing black
eyes. “If Miss McKinnon made this mess, then it’s only fair for Miss McKinnon to clean it up herself,
right? How fair is it if you made a mess and then demanded someone else to clean up for you?”
The glee in the nurse’s mien was palpable.
Deirdre hung her head, her fingers tightly clutching the edge of her blanket. Watching her, Brendan
asked sharply, “What? Are we asking too much from you?”
His tone spelled trouble. Deirdre dared not defy him any longer. She yanked her blanket away and
stood on the floor, barefooted. She was not sure where the broken pieces were, so she began to feel
her way across the floor.
Her hands swam in puddles of porridge. It was unpleasant, but she gnashed her teeth and felt for one
of the bigger ceramic pieces. She scooped the porridge up and discarded it into the bin.
She was nearing the end when the nurse had an idea. She jostled Deirdre.
The young woman lost her balance and crashed onto the floor. The edge of the piece skated through
her skin and carved out a long gash in her hand. Blood soon followed.
Brendan’s eyes narrowed. The nurse shot an ingratiating glance at him and raised her voice, saying,
“Miss McKinnon, oh no! What happened? You’re a little too young to be that clumsy with your hands,
miss. Are you hurt?”
“Sorry.” Deirdre huffed. Her hand hurt, but she was even more afraid of Brendan’s fury. Instead of
gingerly picking the pieces with her fingers, she resorted to just cupping them with her palms.
Blood drenched and dripped from the ridges of the bowl. Some of its debris fell into her wound.
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