Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

She had to admit that Brielle had some chops, but everything she had now must’ve been thanks to Spencer, right?

The fastest way to make money in this world, it seemed, was to sell your body.

Brielle didn’t notice the edge in Sydney’s tone, simply assuming she felt under the weather. After saying a quick word to the security guard at the entrance–who was quite familiar with her–Sydney was let in without issue.

Reaching her front door, Brielle fished out her keys and unlocked it.

Sydney’s face subtly changed upon seeing the exquisite interior. The house itself was already worth a pretty penny, yet the decor seemed even more expensive, as if every breath was laced with the scent of money.

Even though she worked at Dorsey International, Sydney had always played by the rules. Apart from a likable personality, there was nothing extraordinary about her. Most of her colleagues were graduates from reputable universities, but those who actually belonged to the affluent circles were few and far between. Having a place of your own in Beaconsfield was considered

quite the achievement. Belongs to © n0velDrama.Org.

And here was Brielle, living alone in such a beautiful home. How many years would she and her boyfriend have to work without indulging in any pleasures to afford a place like this?

Sydney couldn’t help but glance at the shoe rack, where a few pairs of men’s shoes were stored. Those were for Max since he occasionally stopped by.

Casting a few surreptitious glances, Sydney feigned nonchalance and asked, “Ms. Haywood, do you live in this big place all by yourself?”

Brielle didn’t pick up on the insinuation and wasn’t one to spread details about her private life.

“Yeah.”

A hint of scorn flashed through Sydney’s eyes. So, Brielle was living alone. The men’s shoes in the foyer–if not Spencer’s, then whose?

A fuck buddy, perhaps?

With that thought, the disdain in Sydney’s gaze deepened. She had pegged Brielle for a straight–laced type, not expecting her private life to be so messy. She was remembering how Spencer and Noah had been doggedly pursuing Brielle, and a wave of jealousy washed over Sydney.

The money for the house must have come from those two true trust–fund kids, right? If that was the case, why did Brielle play so hard to get?

Sydney masked her expression as she watched Brielle walk over to the coffee table on the sofa and start reviewing documents with great concentration.

13-02

Brielle thought too highly of Sydney to suspect that last night’s events could have so dramatically altered her perception. As Brielle mulled over whether to make changes to one of the forms on the table, Sydney probed further. “Ms. Haywood, may I use your restroom?”

Without much thought, Brielle gestured towards the bathroom.

Sydney made her way there, her peripheral vision not missing a chance to take in the house’s decor. The more she saw, the more her heart ached.

Every detail was perfect. Although she wasn’t friends with any designers, her past daydreams of buying a house with her boyfriend had led her to peruse many designer portfolios. Yet none had struck her quite like this.

There’s a saying in this world: beggars don’t envy millionaires because that life is too far out of reach. But they did envy other beggars who made a bit more than they did. Have you ever seen. the rich resent wealth? In the end, it was the lack of money that bred resentment.

Everyone in Sydney’s usual circles was more or less on the same level. If someone had a bit of extra cash, it certainly wasn’t enough to afford a house like this one. And since Brielle had never mentioned a mortgage, it seemed she had paid in full.

Sydney looked at her reflection in the mirror, taking a deep breath to compose herself before facing Brielle again. If she could cash in on this information, why wouldn’t she? No one ever complained about having too much money.

She splashed her face with cold water from the tap, accidentally knocking her black hairpin to the floor. Bending down to retrieve it, her hand stumbled upon something else–a pregnancy test.

Sydney wasn’t naive; she knew exactly what it was and had used one herself before.

There were two lines on it. This was Brielle’s room; it couldn’t belong to anyone else.

A surge of triumph flashed in Sydney’s eyes, her lips curling up in delight. Brielle was pregnant, and Sydney was probably the first to know.

Sydney wrapped the pregnancy test in a tissue and stashed it in her purse. After washing her hands once more, she headed back out to face Brielle.