In silence, Brendan's face turned pale. He weakly clutched at Deirdre's wrist. "Deirdre, my mother will die sooner or later… Why must you… be so impatient?"

As soon as he finished the sentence, Deirdre saw Brendan fall, crashing to the ground with a sickening thud.

"Brendan!" Deirdre shouted, throwing herself onto the ground. "Brendan! I didn't do it! I really didn't!"

Tears flooded her eyes as she reached out to touch Brendan's face.

Why was he so cold? Why was he so icy?

Before she could even hold him, a maid furiously kicked her away. "Murderer! Get out of here! You killed the mistress, and now you want to harm her son!? If only the mistress hadn't let you in the house in the first place! It's all your fault, you jinx! The Brighthalls have only come to this because of you!"

Deirdre's hair was messy, sticking to her face, and her pupils were dilated. Countless police officers streamed into the room, took away Madame Brighthall's body, and then put handcuffs on Deirdre's wrist.