Brendan’s gaze pooled around Charlene, like a spotlight, as she continued to sob. “If it weren’t for those journalists putting my feet on the fire, I wouldn’t have forced Miss McKinnon to attend my wedding, okay?

“Do you really think her attendance is going to be, in any way, shape, or form, beneficial to me? She’s pregnant with your child, Bren! Every time I see it, it hurts me so much!”

She was acting so hard, yet Brendan’s eyes exuded impassivity and nonchalance. He waited until she was done venting and passed her a piece of tissue. “So, you had nothing to do with it?”

“Of course!” Charlene wiped away her tears.

“I see. I believe you.” Brendan’s tone softened.

Charlene broke out a watery smile and began redressing her ruined makeup as Brendan focused on driving. “Bren, should… Should we tell Miss McKinnon? I told the reporter that she was joining, after all…”

Brendan nodded impatiently. “Now that you told the media it’s going to happen, she has to be there, or it’d seem like