Deirdre nodded obediently and got into Brendan's car with Ophelia.

Upon arriving at the villa, Ophelia returned to her room, leaving them in the living room. Brendan wrapped his arms around Deirdre and rested his head on her shoulder as he breathed deeply.

"I'm sorry."

He was the lover, the son, and the most suitable mediator, yet he had messed up even the simplest task of mediating the relationship between Deirdre and his mother.

"I don't know what has gotten into my mother. She used to love you more than she loves me."

Deirdre wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling his steady breath against her shoulder. Her gaze shifted from being distracted to focused, filled with care and concern. She gently caressed the man's back, offering him comfort in her touch.

"You don't have to apologize, and it's not your fault that Madame Brighthall isn't fond of me. At most…" Deirdre lowered her eyes. "At most, it is due to me being bad at something, and that caused her hatred."

"You're gre