Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

But it wasn’t until much later that Jaired would come to understand the full extent of what Max had meant by his words that day.

Time flew by, and the online chatter about Tessa hadn’t died down. Even those within their social circle were starting to speculate about what was really going on.

After Tessa’s rage had landed her in the emergency room, she spent another restless night before she regained consciousness, still groggy and disoriented.

The Rowland clan was in a state of utter chaos, ruing the decision to let Tessa confront Brielle on her own. If Brielle had been easy to handle, she wouldn’t have ousted Alivia and secured her place at Max’s side.

As Tessa sluggishly came to, her eyes met the sterile white ceiling of the hospital room. When she recalled the news she’d seen before losing consciousness, the bitter taste of bile rose in her throat, and she nearly spat blood in frustration. Her eyes were swollen from crying, her heart filled with indignation. After all her efforts, it seemed everything had backfired.

Andrew gripped her hand, his brow furrowed with worry. “I’ve managed to suppress the news online, but still, I’ll head over to the Rowland estate to take care of you during this time,” he said.

Tears resumed their path down Tessa’s cheeks. Why did it always seem that every encounter with Brielle left her on the losing end? Despite Brielle’s lack of a significant background, how did she always manage to slip away unscathed?

Hatred flooded Tessa’s gaze, but the blow she’d received served as a stark lesson–her usual tactics would no longer suffice against Brielle. She had to bide her time, to devise a plan that would strike directly at Brielle’s heart.

That afternoon, Tessa returned to the Rowland estate, claiming she needed half a month to recover from her ailment.

Upon hearing of Tessa’s discharge, Brielle was in the middle of knitting a scarf at Premier Palace. She had been aware of the online news, which was still a hot topic of public debate. With Andrew’s assertive crackdown, the rumors appeared even more credible. After all, the public was like that–the more you tried to suppress them, the more they yearned to rise up in defiance.

Although Tessa’s name had vanished from the headlines, she remained a topic of conversation, with people secretly scheming to stir up trouble again.

At the moment, however, Brielle paid little heed to these matters. She had already set Mason to work on a plan that would funnel the upcoming land auction toward the Rowland estate. A cash loss of several billion would be a massive blow to any successful company.

All she had to do was wait for the news. Her primary concern now was her own affairs. What would Michael want to discuss when she visited the Dorsey family?

1/2

15:28

Her knitting pace slowed as she took a sip of coffee from the table, then resumed her work on the scarf, determined to finish it as a New Year’s gift before the celebrations began.

Fighting off sleepiness, Brielle spent the entire afternoon knitting.

Come evening, she noticed several unmounted holiday decorations on the coffee table. The villa had none displayed, prompting her to ask Wesley about it.

“Why are these decorations here not put up?”

“Ms. Brielle, Mr. Max has never been one for these New Year customs. I bought them,” Wesley replied.

It was such a significant occasion, and yet Premier Palace remained unchanged. If it weren’t for Brielle, the place would be even more desolate. A pang of sympathy hit her. Had Max never truly experienced what it meant to celebrate the New Year?

Most of the time, he was alone abroad, guarding against assassination attempts since childhood, with no time to savor the simple joys of life. This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

She picked up the decorations, her face breaking into a smile. “Where’s the ladder? Let’s get these up.”

Wesley’s eyes lit up. He had prepared for the New Year before, especially when Max was expected to return home for the holidays. But Max never did and spent time in hotels or at the office instead.

Tonight, with Ms. Brielle present, surely Max would come home.

In a flurry of activity, they fetched a ladder and affixed the decorations to the walls. An hour later, the entire Premier Palace was aglow with gaudy reds and greens–a stark contrast to the subdued elegance of the European–style architecture.

Brielle laughed at the sight. It was tacky, yes, but it was also filled with the warmth of tradition. She continued to sit in the living room, knitting the scarf, awaiting Max’s return for dinner. But by eight o’clock in the evening, there was still no sign of him. Instead, Patrick called.

“Ms. Brielle, Mr. Max is tied up with matters tonight and won’t be returning,” he informed her. Brielle’s joy was instantly doused with cold disappointment. Max had been incredibly busy these past few days, coming and going at all hours, his actions a mystery to all.

With her visit to the Dorsey family’s ancestral home looming on the next evening. Max’s absence tonight unsettled her.