Let’s Add One More Stake to This, Shall We?
For some unknown reason, the uncertain, almost unsettled look on Deirdre’s face summoned a swirl of
anxiety. He frowned, and his eyebrows locked together into a knot. He could not tell why or where this
anxiety was coming from, but his gut was telling him that something big was about to happen…
“Bren!”
The door to the lounge opened. Charlene sashayed into the room in tailor- made sartorial finery,
decked in jewelry amounting to more than a million dollars in total. She seemed to have made it her
mission to become the epitome of a wealthy exhibitionistone could see it on her face.
And her face! The surgery was clearly a success, judging from her recovery. After leaving the
detainment center, Charlene had some of her” imperfections” adjusted, and with the right application of
cosmetics, she was genuinely beautiful in her own way.
Brendan tossed a glance in her direction and felt a surge of disgust shooting into his mouth. His mien
was frigid, but Charlene dismissed it altogether with a practiced smile. She stepped forward. “What are
you watching in this room? It’s our engagement party, dear Bren. Our esteemed guests are dying to
toast to us outside!”
She extended her hand to him. He roundly ignored it. “When are you going to give me the video?”
Charlene’s smile froze for a perceptible second.
Then the faux grace returned. Only her voice contained whatever remained from her second-long ire.
“Do you really have to suck the joy out of our special occasion like that, Bren?”
“Look who’s complaining!” Brendan smirked icily. “As if you’ve already forgotten that it’s the only reason
you’re standing here today, showing off everything you don’t own to people who could not have known
better. It’s the only reason you can look the way you look and sate your lust to be Mrs. Brighthall. Did
you honestly think I would waste my time on you without this thing?”
He did not mince his words-the cruelty was the point. Anyone would have found it stinging, but
Charlene was utterly unfazed. She was well aware of her status, desired object, and objectives. She
was not going to crumble and throw a fit just because
Brendan was being deliberately caustic.
“Hmm… Maybe tonight? I’ll send Ophelia’s video to you when this is over. She’s alive and doing well!
You can see it for yourself.”
Her compliance was rewarded with Brendan’s silence. He started out of the lounge while Charlene
followed.
“Hmm, something’s not fair about this deal, don’t you think? I hand you what you want so easily and
unreservedly, but you don’t seem to return the favor, Bren,” she complained wryly. “Where’s my mother-
in-law? When is she going to show up? Her absence on a day as important as this one is wrong, don’t
you agree?”
Madame Brighthall was not present despite the gravity of the engagement. Brendan had called her
and, to his mother’s surprise, asked for her attendance.
Madame Brighthall had repeatedly tried to pry an answer, and when she could not, she sighed in
resignation. “You know what? Fine. You’re a grownup, and I’m no longer in the business of making you
follow whatever I find best. You have your own way of cleaning up your mess, and only you know your
own mess the best. With that said, I reserve my right not to join this. I won’t accept her as my daughter-
in-law. Never.”
It was not enough to dissuade Charlene at all. After her time in the detainment center, her gluttony had
grown into something downright monstrous-that brief moment of denial from comfort and status had
done a number on her appetite. Nobody in Neve should question her identity. Nobody could say she
was not who she said she was.
Everyone must acknowledge her the way she wanted. And Madame Brighthall had to come-and be on
the front-row seat, with the limelight on.
Brendan turned away from her, his expression even more frigid than before. Charlene broke out a
smile. “It’s the last of my requests today, Bren dear. Oh! How about… if I add to the stakes?
“Would you like an audio track of Ophelia’s voice?”
Madame Brighthall’s appearance at the engagement party was the flame that ignited the nation’s
imagination. Even neighboring cities indulged in the entertainment.
By the time Deirdre caught the news, every channel and their shows were already talking about it.
The importance of engagement parties paled against the gravitas of the wedding itself, so Madame
Brighthall’s absence would hardly seem inappropriate. She was an aging woman with a frail
constitution who spent much of her time in her garden, after all. It was entirely reasonable for the older
woman not to show up at a party for health reasons.
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