Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Just as the office door swung open, Spencer stormed in, his face a mask of fury. “Uncle Max.” he called out, his posture a picture of dishevelment.

Max glanced at the imprint of a hand on Spencer’s cheek and felt the knot of irritation inside him loosen somewhat.

Spencer’s demeanor was respectful, and it took him a moment before he hesitantly spoke. “My dad and mom both hope that Brielle and I can get back together. Grandpa thinks the same way. Uncle Max, can you arrange a position for me? I want to come back first.”

In the past, Spencer would have undoubtedly left Dorsey Tower long ago, and he would never have condescended to think about staying. It was simply because he couldn’t accept it. To him, Brielle had changed too much; she used to be so agreeable.

Max’s slender fingers spun a pen with effortless grace, a simple gesture that exuded a sleek, statuesque elegance, like a marble sculpture in a silent, cold gallery. He chuckled softly. “Getting back together with Brielle?”

For some reason, Spencer felt an overwhelming pressure emanating from him and involuntarily. swallowed hard, his fingertips beginning to tremble.

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His reverence for Max was deep in his bones, “Brielle’s background might not match mine, but I can’t find a better bride in such short notice. I’m not like you, Uncle Max. I never had

woman like Ms. Alivia waiting for me since my youth.”

Max’s brows furrowed, and a flash of annoyance passed through his eyes, “If you want to come back, you’ll have to go through the proper channels and submit an application.”

A spark of hope crossed Spencer’s face, “Alright, I’ll send it tonight.” With that, he walked out with a spring in his step.

Back behind his desk, Max was surrounded by piles of paperwork that he couldn’t bring himself

to read.

Downstairs, Brielle was equally restless. She hadn’t even turned on her work computer all day. and, as soon as the clock signaled the end of the workday, she reflexively grabbed her purse to head back to her apartment, but then she remembered the threatening texts. Frowning, she decided to head to the hotel instead.

The meal box the butler had sent over was still sitting on the coffee table. After debating with herself until eight in the evening, Brielle finally decided to call Patrick.

Patrick glanced at Max, surrounded by a crowd, and cautiously answered, “Ms. Brielle.”

“Um, Patrick, is Michael still at Premier Palace tonight? Wesley sent me a meal box, and I would like to return it.”

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Speaking with smart people didn’t require explicitness. Everyone knew she was looking for an

excuse to return to Premier Palace.

A trace of relief crossed Patrick’s face, but then he frowned, “Mr. Michael isn’t there, but Mr. Dorsey isn’t at Premier Palace either tonight. The Hatfield family is hosting a charity gala, and he’s attending.”

“Oh, I see.” Brielle sounded somewhat dejected.

“Ms. Brielle, would you like to come? I can pick you up. The rest of the Haywood family is here.

as well.”

The Haywood family was there too? Brielle’s frown deepened, immediately feeling like it was at bad omen. “No, that’s alright. I’ll return the meal box some other time.”

After hanging up the phone, Patrick debated before approaching Max, “Sir, Ms. Brielle just called.”

Max instinctively checked his phone, finding no missed calls. The chill in his gaze intensified in an instant, “Hmm.” So, she didn’t call him but called Patrick instead.

Patrick wanted to add something else but noticed Lillian approaching with a drink in hand, “Max, I’ve heard so much about you.”

Lillian was dazzling that evening, her neck adorned with a string of diamonds that shone under the bright lights. She had spent a pretty penny on her ensemble and had made an extra effort knowing Max would be there. This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

Her gaze shifted to Patrick, a sly smile on her lips, “Patrick, didn’t Brielle come with you? Your two seemed quite close last time. How come I haven’t seen her tonight?”

She asked as if casually interested, but inwardly she sneered.

Patrick was a driver, after all, and how much could he possibly contribute to a charity gala? He was barely qualified to bring a date.