Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

and Brielle spotted her cane lying just within reach, propped against the elevator’s handrail. She leaned in to grab it.

Max couldn’t help but let out a chuckle mixed with a hint of exasperation. “Ms. Haywood, you’re quite the trooper,” he said, his voice tinged with sarcasm.

Brielle tensed, fully aware he was mocking her, and her temper flared. “Nothing compared to you, Mr. Dorsey. You’re busy as a bee, as always,” she retorted. It was a clear jab at him for his habit of not answering calls.

Anyone else would think twice before speaking to Max in such a manner, but Max didn’t get angry. Instead, he felt an odd sense of helplessness, even a bit of bewilderment, about how to respond to her.

Amidst his silence, Brielle finally got hold of her cane and stood there in the corner, stiff as a board. After a long while, she feigned composure and asked, “I know it might be redundant to ask, but are you planning to call it quits, Mr. Dorsey?”

For Brielle, mustering the courage to ask such a question was monumental. Max’s actions had made his intentions clear; he wanted to set boundaries between them. She had always found herself too timid and too reserved in the face of attraction. Her past was far from glamorous, riddled with rejections and romantic tumbles, not to mention a family life in shambles. Yet she had never shied away from any of it; she embraced it all, including the faint stirrings of her heart for Max.

It was her one source of pride.

Max didn’t answer right away. The closed elevator was quiet. The seconds were ticking by, and their heartbeats were almost audible in the silence. Just as Brielle thought he wouldn’t respond, she heard a

decisive, “Yeah.”

Although she had anticipated this answer, she had clung to a gambler’s hope for a different outcome until the very end. That nascent flicker of attraction was snuffed out with Max’s single word.

Max said nothing more, avoided looking at her as if he was holding back something, and forced his gaze elsewhere.

Brielle exhaled a laugh. “Well then, I wish you all the best in getting what you want, Mr. Dorsey.” Max’s Adam’s apple bobbed; his hand discreetly brushed over his chest.

It hurt a bit, but it was bearable. When breaking an addiction, one had to be resolute from the start. Any hesitation was harmful to both parties.

Brielle closed her eyes, awaiting rescue, and no longer willing to invest her emotions in a lost cause. She should have remembered that Max had made it clear from the beginning–he didn’t

believe in love. It was all a dopamine–induced delusion. Content © provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

She gripped her cane tightly, realizing that even if Max harbored a small affection for her, his formidable brain would immediately take action to correct any emotional derailment, much like smokers contemplating quitting or drinkers pondering sobriety.

After all, dopamine wasn’t exclusive to one kind of pleasure. And the only thing that could combat dopamine was dopamine itself.

Brielle chuckled to herself for a few seconds, having come to terms with it all.

Voices from outside indicated that someone had noticed the elevator malfunction. She breathed a sigh of relief, eager to leave this confined space.

“Mr. Dorsey, Ms. Brielle, are you in there?” called out Patrick’s voice, along with the sound of technicians and executives.

Brielle quickly responded, “I’m here. How long until the elevator is fixed?”

“Ten minutes, we’re making it a priority,” came the reply.

Brielle relaxed, choosing not to engage further.

Outside the elevator, Noah was standing with the executives. He had rushed over upon hearing that Brielle was at the company today. He had promised Alivia to win Brielle over within a week. and yet, ironically, time had passed, and he had only met her once.

He had called Alivia the night before to probe for more time, and she had given him a month. Noah felt embarrassed and was eager to impress, now that he knew Brielle was trapped.

To him, Brielle and Max being stuck together was purely coincidental–he couldn’t fathom any deeper connection between them.

Noah took a step forward; his tone was gentle. “Brielle, don’t be afraid. The technicians are

working as fast as they can.”

Hearing this pretentious tone, Brielle couldn’t help but cringe. Noah, with his unwarranted flower delivery and now this charade, what was he playing at?

“Mr. Noah, rest assured, I’m not scared,” she replied, almost defiantly.

Inexplicably, she glanced at Max.