Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

“I’m just guessing you would’ve heard about it, that’s all.”

Martha clamped her mouth shut, her hand gripping the mug so tightly it nearly shattered. Of course, she was aware of Michael’s request to Brielle, but she couldn’t bear it.

A flash of defiance crossed her eyes. “Max, does it have to be her?”

The defiance quickly faded, and her tone became indifferent. “No matter what happens in the future, you’ll always be with her, right?”

“Yes.”

The call ended abruptly. Max glanced at his phone before returning to the dinner table. His appetite had somewhat diminished, but he still offered Brielle a piece of crab. “Here, eat up. You must be starving.”

Brielle sensed his mood had darkened. She knew who had called and felt a twinge in her

heart.

No wonder even Tiffanie had been blaming her tonight. Being with Max seemed to isolate him from everyone else. She had nothing to begin with, so there was nothing for her to lose. This relationship had always been a greater sacrifice for him from the start. She didn’t even know what she could offer to make up for all that he had lost.

She told herself that maybe Max didn’t care much for kinship or friendship, but if he truly didn’t care, he wouldn’t have let Andrew punch him; if he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have made. such an effort to send Martha abroad and ensure she was well looked after.

Brielle couldn’t lie to herself; Max was quite emotionally reserved, but seemed even more emotionally impoverished because of her presence.

The once flavorful meal now tasted bland. She resolved to treat Max better, so well that she might compensate for everything he was missing. She had to be better for him. That was her

silent vow.

After finishing their meal, they didn’t bother going up to the roof to watch the night’s fireworks. She picked up the unfinished scarf and continued knitting. Just as she said she would do when she texted him. She knitted in his arms.

By the large floor–to–ceiling window, he held a book in one hand, the other resting gently on

the back of her head.

Brielle knitted a few stitches, glanced at the cover, and knew what he was reading. It’s a book. by Borges.

Her hands paused for a moment as she watched him, his gaze lowered, reading intently. His long lashes cast a deep shadow over his eyelids, and his jawline was even more perfect in this light.

She thought to herself that, no matter what the future held, she would always remember this moment. That night, they went to bed without making love, simply cuddling together as they

ell asleep

#she awoke, her phone was flooded with messages wishing her a Happy New Year. Some were from Mason, others from Aubree and Tiffanie.

Mason had sent two messages–one with New Year’s greetings and another about the Rowland family’s dealings abroad.

The Rowland family was convinced. They were ready to drop a whopping twenty billion on that piece of land. Once the government’s seal was on it, the land would be theirs. NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

many had

Brielle’s lips curled into a smile. Cash flow was the lifeblood of a company, and gone bankrupt due to liquidity issues. That twenty billion would hit the Rowland family where it hurt, keeping them from scheming against her.

She was about to reply when Mason sent another message. The overseas process was much simpler than back home, and in about a week, the land’s fate would be announced.

Brielle replied with a single word, [Good.]

She responded to the other New Year’s wishes, but one message took her by surprise. It was from Kenzo, and it was just a picture of fireworks.

Beaconsfield had a grand fireworks display on New Year’s Eve, a highlight for many each year. In Brielle’s heart, she had already seen the most beautiful fireworks with Max, so the previous night’s display held no interest for her.

Kenzo’s picture was quite artistic, clearly taken from a well–thought–out angle. [Beautiful photo. Happy new year, Kenzo.]

Kenzo didn’t respond. Brielle figured the photo was likely sent to a group and didn’t dwell on

it

Her peaceful days continued until she went to Dorsey International for the last time to hand over her duties, where she encountered Sydney dressed exactly like her. The rest of the department seemed surprised to see her back, their words stuck in their throats. And Sydney, clutching a pile of documents, nodded slightly at her before heading to the elevator. Sydney used to be lively, but now she affected an aloof demeanor.

Once Sydney left, her colleagues started buzzing with gossip.

“Ms. Haywood, you saw it, right? She’s been copying you lately, from how you dress to the way you talk. And she’s always hanging around the top floor.”

“She insists on delivering any documents that need to go up there.”

“Every outfit you’ve worn, she’s bought the same.”

The feeling of being mimicked behind your back was downright uncomfortable, especially when the imitator kept showing up around Max.