Chapter 45 Who Do You Think You Are?

Strewn into their mockery was a thinly-veiled accusation: It was all Deirdre’s fault.

How could they be so cruel? She was just as much of a human as they were. She was not an emotionless plaything ! Why must she obey Brendan’s every whim? Because she had been unfortunate enough to become the Devil’s object of obsession ? Because she deserved to be punished for saying yes to becoming Mrs. Brighthall?

Deirdre’s pain was consuming her from within. She seemed to have depleted her entire supply of tears, and now all there was left in her eyes was a bottomless void threatening to swallow her sense of self.

Then, she remembered. Sterling was about to be beaten by a violent mob.

Fingers trembling, she thought of Brendan’s habit and felt her way to the bottom of the driver’s seat. Then, she pulled out a knife.

She turned its pointy edge toward her neck.

panicked. “What the hell are you doing?! Get

from me!” Deirdre shouted, digging it close

and blood poured like a drawn

managed to conjure the ferocity of cornered prey she looked as though she would severe

for two burly men to snatch the knife from

teeth, Deirdre snarled, “Tell them to stop, now. And

turned white. If they f*cked this up … God, there would not be any corpses in the caskets during their eventual funerals! “Alright, princess! You stay right here and don’t

rushed to the car, and it did not take him long to see Deirdre holding a

f*ck, McKinnon?! How suicidal are you?!” he shrieked, his body trembling. The cut she had made was deep-and

and her eyes were red. “Let Sterling go, Brendan. The thing between

eyes were beet -red, but finally, he howled,” Fine! Fine!” He clenched his fists, gritted his teeth, and turned to one of his bodyguards. “Stop f*cking standing there like an idiot and tell them to release that bastard! Then tell that piece

bodyguard ran away. Deirdre’s eyelashes

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