Chapter 810

Hemorrhage

A sharp sting spread out from his heart to the rest of his innards. It hurt so much even his injury on the
right arm paled in comparison.

“Alright. If you won’t, then I won’t ask for it either.”

He assented instead of demanding his request be met.

Deirdre’s eyelashes trembled. She was surprised to see him showing no anger. She was surprised he
managed to calm himself and not make it an issue.

On the top floor of a hotel in Neve, a man knocked on the door of the luxury suite before reporting to a
man standing in front of the floor-to- ceiling window.

“Sir? Brendan Brighthall has left the hospital.”

The man played with the wineglass between his fingers and watched the light reflecting off its rim. He
set the glass down.

“Oh? Did he notice it?”

“No.” Disdain animated the underling.

“We successfully ambushed him, meaning he was not sharp enough to notice things like that. I doubt
he knew we bribed the operating doctor into introducing medicines that could make his injuries worse
after the operation.” ‘Then why did he leave?”

“Deirdre McKinnon. The first thing Brendan did after waking up was to run away to meet her. It seems
obvious that he treasures her, and so by sheer luck, he avoided our trap.



“Not all things are lost, though.” The underling continued, beaming.

” Brendan has no idea that Dr. Lang works for US. Our plan is already in action, sir. Dr. Lang
administered the drug to his wounds just today. The dosage may not be much, but it’s only a matter of
two weeks for his wounds to be infected and deteriorate. His body will be done for.”

“Perfect.” The man turned away and watched the unsuspecting crowd going about their days on the
streets far below his window.

“Still, the fact that he managed to escape our ambush means Brendan’s not a foe to be trifled with. We
should ensure he’s too distracted to notice what he did.

‘Throw in another one of our backup plans.” ‘Yes, sir!”

Night fell. Deirdre was drinking Mrs. Engel’s carefully-prepared chicken soup as the older woman
glanced at the stairs. “Mr. Brighthall hasn’t eaten anything since the afternoon, has he? And now, he’s
all cooped up in his study with Sam. Should we send him some chicken soup too?”

Deirdre munched on a slab of chicken. Mrs. Engel was right. Brendan had not eaten much today. He
had left almost half of his food untouched by the time Mrs. Engel cleaned up the plate.

It was hard to tell if it was because his wound was hurting too much or if he was full from Deirdre’s
pasta. Either way, he should be coming downstairs for dinner instead of skipping his meal.

“Please give him some, Mrs. Engel.”

“Okay.”

Mrs. Engel did as she was told. Before she could enter the study, though, Sam suddenly clambered out
of the door with bloodied bandages on his hand, shocking her. She tripped, and the bowl fell onto the
floor and spilled its content.



She apologized and started to clean up. Deirdre heard the commotion and ascended the stairs, asking,
“What’s wrong, Mrs. Engel?”

“Nothing at all, Miss McKinnon! I accidentally knocked the soup over!” she cried out as she scanned
the bandages on Sam’s hand. Worried, she glanced into the study and asked quietly, “What… What’s
going on with that?”

Deirdre smelled the scent of blood in the air, too. “Huh? What’s this?”

Mrs. Engel’s eyes were transfixed on the bandages. “Sam is holding some very bloody bandages. Is…
Is Mr. Brighthall hurt?”

Bloody bandages?

Deirdre’s heart skipped a beat. She remembered the man’s pain after he redressed his wound. She
remembered how weak he had sounded when he told her it hurt.

Had something happened to his injury?

Sam was about to explain when Brendan suddenly walked out of his study, his bandages changed
anew. His face was ashen, though-so much so that even the color of his lips was white.

“It was nothing,” he said. “Just a hemorrhage. I had Sam address it for me.”

“Hemorrhage!?” Mrs. Engel was alarmed. “Weren’t you fine just this afternoon? How did this happen?
Are your injuries okay at all, sir? Should we get you to the hospital?”



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