CWMBR 74

Chapter 74

***

Ronan, who had been too busy soothing Donna to pay attention, frowned and turned to look at Bridget. His expression said he hadn't heard a word.

"What?"

"I told you there's no need for a permanent actor since there's no long-term performance schedule."

Judging by Ronan's expression, he had completely forgotten the conversation he'd had with Bridget. It wasn't really surprising. Even back then, Ronan had recoiled in horror and asked if she was out of her mind. Bridget shifted her gaze impassively.

"If you didn't do it, I'll do it now. Donna, you're fired."

Donna, who had been clinging to Ronan and whining, stopped crying at those words and widened her eyes. Realizing Bridget meant every word, she grabbed Ronan's clothes and clung to him.

"Boss! What is she talking about?"

"Are you really planning to liquidate everything and sell the Grand Theater? Are you giving up completely?"

Ronan asked, sounding incredulous. But instead of answering Ronan, Bridget spoke to Donna in a flat voice.

"Since you've worked so hard, I'll make sure you get your severance pay."

"Bridget!"

Ronan pulled Donna off him and approached Bridget with a grim face.

"How hard did I work to build this business, and now you suddenly want to sabotage it? Have you lost all sense of reason?"

He raged like someone whose fortune had been stolen.

"If you wronged Lord Wise, you should be on your knees begging! Is cutting off someone's livelihood irresponsibly the answer? Are you just going to give up your parents' inheritance so easily?"

Bridget had no intention of closing the Grand Theater. If anything, she was striving to revive it somehow.

But she deliberately kept her thoughts to herself. If she revealed them, Ronan would be even more determined not to relinquish his position as managing agent.

Of course, it wasn't the first time Ronan had treated the Grand Theater as if it were his personal property. But at this point, his reaction felt excessive. Bridget couldn't help but feel suspicious.

"What exactly have you been doing with the Grand Theater? It's strange enough that you drove out the remaining staff, but filling it with people who suit your tastes? Are you planning to commit something truly illegal?"

"Bridget!"

"But those people conspiring with you, Uncle—they know you're just their proxy, right?"

At Bridget's words, Ronan looked utterly flabbergasted.

"Ha! Have you already forgotten who witnessed the power of attorney? They know full well how irresponsible and dangerous it would be to return the Grand Theater to you!"

“Oh dear, they’re not the ones reviewing the power of attorney’s validity.”

When drafting the power of attorney, Ronan had listed the names of prominent figures from the Glynford area. But so what? They were merely witnesses to a contract between two people.

Of course, if Declan hadn't stepped forward to help her, Bridget wouldn't have dared to antagonize Ronan this much. In that sense, Bridget felt the need to resolve this matter as quickly as possible. Declan wouldn't be her representative forever, and who knew when this sudden stroke of luck might vanish like a mirage?

"The legal expert you said you'd introduce me to... I suppose you'll need him yourself, Uncle."

So Bridget confronted Ronan with a firm stance.

"I've already appointed an exceptionally capable representative."

***

It was the first time she'd ever laid a hand on someone.

She had been taught that when you strike another, you yourself will inevitably feel the pain. That if you hate others, your heart will harden like stone, weighing heavily upon your own soul. Therefore, she was told, it was better to love others. That was how her parents had raised her.

Her parents' teachings were not wrong. Her own palm still stung from the careless blow. If her own palm stung this much, Donna's cheek must be swollen and puffy by now.

Sitting on the sofa in the first-floor parlor, Bridget stared silently at her hand. She pulled the thin blanket draped over her knees a little tighter. She felt chilly. No matter how fiercely she stoked the fire in the fireplace, it didn't help.

Ever since arriving at Glynford, she hadn't felt well for a single day. It could be the aftermath of not taking proper care of herself after the miscarriage, or perhaps it was because every event in her daily life only amplified her exhaustion. Bridget clutched the innocent blanket and gasped for breath.

Jane, who was preparing to leave work, saw Bridget like this and approached with concern.

"Should I contact Magnus?"

"No. I still have medicine left."

"But..."

Worry clouded Jane's eyes. Bridget offered a faint smile to ease her concern.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Ottertz. You worked hard today. Take a good rest during your vacation."

Jane's vacation started tomorrow. It was a schedule arranged in advance to coincide with her son's return on leave after several years of military service. Knowing full well how much Jane worried about and missed her son in the army, Bridget had willingly given her ample time off and a little vacation allowance.

Jane looked gloomy, seemingly unable to relax despite Bridget's smile.

"Mr. Ronan isn't coming in today, and Miss Donna said she won't be coming in either."

"I see."

After the commotion at the Grand Theater, it was only natural that neither would show up. Seeing Bridget's face alone would probably make them both furious right now.

Jane asked Bridget, who nodded impassively, in a cautious tone.

"Are you sure you'll be okay alone?"

"I'll be fine."

"Oh dear, I really should stay with you."

It reminded Bridget so much of a guardian leaving a four or five-year-old home alone that she couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

"I'll lock the doors and get some rest."

"Still, you shouldn't be alone when you're sick..."

Well, she'd never been truly alone at Bredford Manor, yet her life there had felt much like solitude. That experience had left such a vivid impression that being left home alone now held little significance for Bridget.

"It's your son you haven't seen in years. Don't worry about me. Just relax and come back."

Jane's eyes moistened at Bridget's words.

"You're always so considerate of others... Our young lady should be the one building a good family..."

Jane seemed to have blurted out her usual thoughts without thinking, and she snapped her mouth shut in surprise. Bridget gave Jane a smile that suggested it was no big deal.

In the end, Jane left the mansion, leaving Bridget behind. She glanced back several times, as if reluctant to leave, but eventually quickened her pace and walked away. Despite her words, her mind seemed anxious, thinking of her son waiting at home. Watching Jane's excited figure through the window, her footsteps clearly light and eager, Bridget returned to the sofa and pulled the blanket back over herself.

Jane's face, whenever she spoke of her son, was bright and warm, like spring sunshine. Watching her, Bridget missed her own parents. She wondered if they had smiled like that when talking about her. Then, after becoming pregnant, she grew curious. If she had a child, would she too have that warm expression when talking about it?

Ah, they say sons take after their mothers. So, would hers take after her, growing up adventurous and brave, a little troublemaker?

Daughters take after their fathers, they say. If it takes after him, she'll grow into the most steadfast and noble angel in the world.

She once had thoughts like that. Back then, she never imagined she would be left forever unsure which it would be. 

Crackle, crackle.

The sound of logs burning in the fireplace echoed through the parlor. Bridget stared blankly at the flickering flames, then pulled her knees up and hugged them.

***

…………Dong.

….Ding-dong.

Ding-dong.

Bridget opened her eyes.

She stared blankly at the fireplace before drifting back to sleep on the sofa. Time must have passed quite a while, for only a few embers remained in the hearth, and the dim light of dawn was seeping in beneath the curtains. Still half-asleep, Bridget stared blankly into space before slowly sitting up. The blanket, precariously draped over her, fell off with a thud. Once it was gone, a chill crept over her.

Ding-dong.

Her hand, reaching for the blanket, paused. Without picking it up, Bridget quietly rose from the sofa. Approaching the entrance, she saw a human shadow flickering beyond the thin curtain covering the window.

Bridget checked the table clock in the center of the living room.

It was far too early for a visitor.