Deirdre took a seat on the couch and automatically turned on the TV. She surfed several channels, and as expected, all of them were talking about the incident where Brendan took her from the hospital.

It was less of a splash and more of a tidal wave. Several members of the board of the Brighthall Group had released statements clarifying the distance between themselves and the man at the center of infamy. The Internet was even more heated.

Deirdre was certain she would be subjected to the full tapestry of Internet mob commentaries if she could see.

Brendan seemed to have become public enemy number one—and that fact sucked the light out of Deirdre’s eyes.

Mrs. Engel hurried out of the kitchen. “Good morning, Miss McKinnon! I’ve made some herbal soup, so come on and give it a try. If you don’t like it, I’ll change the recipe—”

She faltered, freezing in her steps. Then, hesitantly, she said, “Uh, I suggest not listening to all of this nonsense, Miss McKinnon…”

Deirdre cast her eyes