Brendan narrowed his eyes as his gaze swept past the woman near the couch.

He had never noticed it when she was in his arms, but now, it became impossible to miss—she was almost emaciated after a week. He could see her collarbones heaving in and out just from her effort to breathe.

It pissed him off for some reason.

“Ignore her. For all intents and purposes, she’s invisible,” he scoffed with characteristic callousness and disdain without reservation. He leaned close to Charlene, his lips inches away from her ears, and added, “Come to my room. Our relationship will be official after tonight...”

He did not say it aloud, but it was enough to let everyone in the living room hear it. Deirdre felt a sting in her chest, but it was nothing compared to the biting frost in her heart.

She was hardly surprised, though. In fact, she wanted to laugh. Just a few days ago, Brendan had demanded that she bear him a child—and now, after the revelation of her infertility, she had lost her purpose