“Either you jump, or your family business is wiped out of the face of this city. Your call,” Brendan sneered. He pulled Deirdre even closer in his arms and smirked. “I bet someone who knows I’m a Brighthall would also know who I am, right? I can destroy a small-fry company with a snap of my finger, so maybe don’t try my patience.”

“N-No, Mr. Brighthall! No!” Zinerva pleaded, alarmed.

Deirdre had almost died just now because nobody helped. Judging by Brendan’s tone, nobody would dare to even rescue Zinerva unless he allowed them to! “I can’t swim, Mr. Brighthall— I’ll die if I go down there! Please, show some mercy! It was just an accident!”

Brendan’s tone was as frigid as permafrost. “Three. Two.”

Zinerva’s lips trembled. Everything she had worked hard for—her image, her reputation, everything—was going to ruins. If news of this got out… she would become the joke of the circle. She could kiss her dream of becoming a socialite goodbye!

But Brendan would punish her family’s company