Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

The words were like a siren’s song, her face an icy mask.

Sophia let go of Brielle’s hand, her fingertips trembling uncontrollably. “How could William ever be wrong? His treatment of me is justified. All he needs is for me to take you down. As long as | take you down…”

“And after you’ve dealt with me, what then? What’s your prize, Sophia? For heaven’s sake, you’re a Rowland, aren’t you? Has your resolve really crumbled that easily? After just a couple of days of his mind games, have you caught a case of Stockholm Syndrome? Wake up, girl. You’re just refusing to face the truth.”

Those words struck Sophia like a sledgehammer, mercilessly crushing her. Sophia’s pupils dilated slowly, her body felt drained of strength, and she wanted nothing more than to collapse

on the floor.

Brielle’s words were as sharp as a knife, cutting deep without mercy. “I’ve heard a story before.” Brielle continued, her voice cold. “About a woman who was abused as a little girl. She lied to herself, claiming she liked it, and ended up selling her body. But at twenty–five, she killed herself. She couldn’t keep up the lie anymore.”

Sophia clung to a nearby chair, her body trembling as she slid down to the floor. Dammit, Brielle, why did she have to be so cruel with her words?

But Sophia had to admit, Brielle was right. She was lying to herself. She couldn’t confront William, so she hypnotized herself into believing that all her troubles were because of Brielle. If she could just get revenge on Brielle, everything would be okay.

Brielle had ripped open the darkest secret of her soul, exposing it to the light. Sophia wanted to laugh, and she did, a laugh tinged with madness.

Brielle watched her without a word, slowly closing her eyes. Truth be told, she had no idea if Sophia would actually help her. She was just buying time.

Wasn’t Mason in touch with Tiffanie? Knowing she had offended the Rowlands, he would surely find a way to help, wouldn’t he? Although Mason seemed quite cunning at the party, Brielle had a feeling he wouldn’t abandon her.

And then there was Andrew. He must know what the Rowlands were up to, given his ties to them. If Andrew knew, it was only a matter of time before Max would find out.

“Sophia, have you made up your mind?” Brielle asked, her voice steady.

A look of manic hatred flashed in Sophia’s eyes, but it quickly settled into a cold calm. “Brielle. what do you think you are to Max? Did he ever explain his dealings with the Barnes family to you? Are you so sure that after being humiliated by the bodyguards, Max will still take your back? That he’ll stand up for you, a woman scorned, against his brother’s girl and offend the Rowlands? You really think too highly of yourself.”

Sophia was no longer the same person she used to be. Regardless of whom she decided to retaliate against, the experiences she had gone through were real. In her eyes, they all deserved death–William and Brielle alike. They should all go straight to hell.

The chance to push Brielle into the abyss was right in front of her, and she wasn’t about to

miss it.

A sinister smile curled her lips. “Think you can talk me into helping you with your clever words? Dream on. You’ll get a taste of what those men are like.”

With those words, Sophia walked out the door, leaving Brielle to the hungry gazes of the several bodyguards stationed outside. It was as if their eyes were hands, stripping her bare.

Brielle furrowed her brows, sweat slowly tracing its way down her forehead. It wasn’t fear that gripped her. If she truly faced what was to come, she wouldn’t give up on herself like Sophia had. She would make the Rowlands pay. All content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

For now, she was relieved. The bodyguards hadn’t come barging in yet.