Certainly, what must be refused · 05. June 2025

CWMBR 28

Chapter 28

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Ronan looked the same as when she saw him a few months ago. His appearance, for one thing.

The frown lines on his brow made him look a little stiff, and his wide eyes hinted at his nervous nature, but these potentially bad traits made him appear to be a sharp, handsome, and aged man.

While the passage of time couldn’t be ignored, Ronan still had the looks to stand out among men his age. It would come in handy when he ran for president of the Grand Theater.

Bridget stared at Ronan. He was both handsome and stern, also her father's twin brother. In fact, his face looked exactly like her father's, which might explain why Bridget couldn't bring herself to come to this grave.

Her uncle, who looked exactly like her father, was alive and breathing beside her.

"I had heard that you were in the monastery, but I was wondering why you had not come home."

He had looked surprised at the unexpected encounter, but then spoke in a friendly tone.

"With all the news I've heard, why haven't you written to me?"

"I've been busy."

"Well, I can understand that. I've heard there's been a big problem with your marriage. What a..... big flaw?"

The question seemed cautious at first glance, but it was actually quite rude and blatant.

In the past, she would have thought it was all her own delusion. She had lost her parents, and Ronan, her father's twin brother, was the last blood relation she could cling to, so she dismissed the subtly demeaning remark as improbable. She turned a blind eye to Ronan's greed, and found a shell of comfort in him. She couldn't look at that face, so much like her father's, and not be rational and cold.

It didn't change how she felt about him now. Ronan still reminded her of her father, even after all these years, and that, of itself, broke her heart.

"Yes, that's what happened."

"Well, I told you to be careful..................."

Ronan clicked his tongue in mock pity, but there was no sincerity in his tone; From the beginning, he had not been happy about Bridget's marriage. At the time, she thought he was just worried because it was a hasty and reckless decision, but now Bridget knew that was not the case.

If Ronan really cared about Bridget, he would have checked in on her at least once after she was married. He would have asked her how she was feeling pregnant and made sure she was comfortable, not urged her to hand over her ownership of the theater. If he really wanted to take care of his brother's daughter.

In truth, Bridget knew. What Ronan was interested in was her name. Her name, registered as the owner of the Grand Theater. Other than that, she was of no value to Ronan. Rather, he was a man who was jealous of his niece's rise in status with her prestigious husband, and now, perhaps, he would find her fall an interesting piece of gossip.

"I'm not surprised to see you all over the papers. I'm also worried about the effect it might have on running the Grand Theater................. You know what I mean?"

"My personal life has nothing to do with the Theater."

This was also something Ronan had told her. He had said this while he was worried that Bridget's marriage would result in her only asset, the Grand Theater, being used as a dowry.

At the time, Bridget had no intention of disposing of the theater, and so she accepted Ronan's offer. Ronan hadn't meant it well, but it had turned out to be the only place she had to go back to, and she was glad of it.

"But Bridget, people don't see it that way. How ridiculous it would look if a woman who was dishonorably abandoned by her husband was the head of the theater."

The outcome of the case was still pending, and Ronan already expected her marriage to be dissolved. He would not be the only one to think so.

Bridget said in a bitter tone.

"Before we were married, you said that everyone would laugh at the idea of a young woman owning a theater."

"You don't know the business, so you may not understand what I'm saying, but it's the atmosphere."

"But Uncle Ronan."

Bridget lowered her gaze. She was silent for a moment, looking down at her feet, then turned her gaze to her parents' headstones.

Her gaze was still and calm as she stared at them.

"No matter what you say, I'm going back to Glynford theater.”

It wasn't like she was trying to make a big decision and do something about it; she was simply accepting that all she had left was a cold, dilapidated building.

Ronan frowned and took a step forward.

"Bridget, you................"

"You're still stuck in a weird place."

Ronan was about to say something when he turned around, startled. His face went white as if he'd seen the Grim Reaper.

"Oh, Mr. Wise?"

"I see you're a brother after all, and you've come to pay your respects."

Despite his polite tone, the sarcasm was uncomfortably naked. Ronan, flushed to the nape of his neck, pressed his lips into a straight line. Ain was his nephew in-law, but it was a tie that would soon be severed, and when it was, all that would remain would be a debt.

Bridget had nothing to do with Ain and Ronan's debt in the first place. The breakup of her marriage would not be an excuse to recoup his previous investment, but it would still do Ronan no good to make Ain upset.

"How did you get this far.................."

Ronan glanced at the memorial chrysanthemum in Ain's hand. It was obvious that he had come to honor the Penningtons, and Ronan looked puzzled. The only 'objective fact' known to the world was that Ain had filed for an annulment. Nothing else was known about the details or the reasons for it, and the newspapers were full of speculation. Mostly, it was inferred from Bridget's reputation and the Wise's rocky relationship.

A common theme in the stories was Ain's cold and distant demeanor toward Bridget. It was assumed that he must dislike, even despise or loathe her.

Ronan thought the newspapers had a point: the Ain he remembered was consistently cold, and he'd clashed with the real Bridget. Most of all, there was no reason for Ain to like Bridget.

He was Ain Wise, not anyone else. A royal sore-finger with noble blood and a fortune to burn. What reason could he have to be interested in Bridget when he could get his hands on anyone in high society if he wanted?

"What reason would I have to visit such a cemetery, if not for a memorial?"

"What an honor. I'm sure your brother and sister-in-law would be pleased..................."

"I don't think they'll be too pleased to see me intruding on their daughter's life."

Ronan was stunned into silence by Ain's response. As if on cue, Ain glanced back at Bridget, who stood before her parents' gravestone. She listened to their conversation with an enigmatic expression on her face, and then her lips parted.

"Please be polite. He's my uncle, and my father's brother."

Ain's expression turned sour, perhaps because she was taking her uncle's side.

"That's a lot of family loyalty."

Ronan was the one who fidgeted at Ain’s sarcasm.

"Bridget, I'll have to come back in the afternoon. You may mourn in peace. I'll tell your room to be...... cleaned up."

Ronan turned around in a hurry. It was the moment when Ain, who was looking at Bridget with pitiful eyes, put down the chrysanthemum he was holding and approached the graveyard.

"Do you remember what I told you?"

He couldn't tell what she was referring to. Ain stopped in his tracks and glanced over at Bridget, who was squatting in front of the gravestone, tracing the letters with a nonchalant hand.

"I said I wanted to take care of my parents' memorial somewhere away from the fuss, which means I don't want to run into anyone."

Anyone, with anyone.

That, of course, included Ain, who, as she expected, was the last person who should be here right now.