Persona Non-Grata
“Where’s Mr. Brighthall?” Mrs. Engel asked. “Why isn’t here with us?”
Deirdre seemingly blinked back to attention. “He, uh, said there’s a lot of things at work pending his
attention for the moment, so he’s not going to join us. Just send his portion upstairs.” “That busy, huh?”
Deirdre thinned her lips. ‘The company is going through a massive purge, Mrs. Engel. He needs to
ensure that every single position is being occupied by someone reliable and trustworthy, which means
he’s now an even bigger micromanager. It’s only normal for him to be so… busy.” “I see,” Mrs. Engel
replied noncommittally before muttering, “Gosh, it isn’t easy to found a business, right? I’ll immediately
bring his portion upstairs before Mr. Brighthall gnaws on his fingernails out of hunger.” “Alright.”
Deirdre finished her dinner alone.
Brendan did not step into her room all night.
Mrs. Engel later told Deirdre that the man spent his night on the couch in his study. “I was thinking if we
should put these two couches side-by-side.” The older woman wondered aloud. ‘This way, Mr.
Brighthall will have a better sleep if he has to crash on his couch again.”
Deirdre was about to answer her when the conversation was interrupted by a series of heels clicking on
the floor. A leaned, toned silhouette took form in her blurry sight. Deirdre could tell from the way the
figure put on airs who this was, no face required.
Mrs. Engel’s expression darkened. “What are you doing here?”
Charlene removed her sunglasses and gave a lopsided grin, positively beaming. “What am I doing
here? Excuse me, but didn’t Bren inform you?”
The older woman’s heart sank. “About what?”
Charlene trained her eyes at Deirdre, glee bursting out of them like gunshots. “I’m staying here to
recuperate.” “Are you kidding me!?’ Mrs. Engel was apoplectic. “Recuperate from what? You ain’t sick
anywhere but in your head! This house is for Mr. Brighthall and Mrs. Brighthall. This is their private
residence! Who in their right mind is going to let you stay here? God, I’ve seen kids make up more
convincing lies!”
Mrs. Engel’s umbrage had a source. She remembered who Charlene was- the vile woman who had
caused Deirdre to be incarcerated, and the devil who had thrown Brendan’s company into so much
chaos, the man couldn’t even enjoy a dinner.
Not giving the snake the boot was already the height of Mrs. Engel’s decorum. It did not mean she was
going to suffer Charlene’s gloating.
Charlene flashed her a smile and made a production of studying the surroundings. “Oh God, this place
hasn’t changed at all for nine years! Urgh, it totally needs a makeover. If I tell Bren I like it to look like a
foreign palace, I bet he’ll start renovating the whole place to look exactly as I want it!
“Oh, I remember that painting! He bought it because I looked at it for more than three seconds during
an auction that one time. And now look at it! It’s enshrined in your living room… What good taste!”
Mrs. Engel scowled in disgust. This woman’s shamelessness knew no bounds. “I bet that painting was
purchased because Mr. Brightall fancied it instead of having diddly-do with you-” “Mrs. Engel? I’m
getting a little colder. Could you fetch my coat for me?”
The older woman hesitated. “B-But Mr. Brighthall-!” “It’s okay. I learned she was coming yesterday.”
“Yesterday?” Mrs. Engel was appalled. “Wait. No wonder you looked so pale yesterday. M-Mr.
Brighthall… How could he…”
Charlene smiled sweetly. “Ah, so you’re already in the know. That explains the faux coolness, but could
you at least inform your aging cur over there next time? She’s been barking non-stop since the real
mistress of the house has returned. Train her, would you? I’m going to marry Bren! If I were you and
cared about her, I’d do my best to teach her some manners before she offended her mistress for real.”
There was something sharp and inhuman in the end of her remark.
Mrs. Engel’s face turned red with rage. Glaring, she opened her mouth to retort, but Deirdre stepped in.
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