Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

She bit her lip, and tears welled up in a storm, but the words she forced out were crystal clear. 

Through the screen, Max couldn’t sense her emotions. But Max wasn’t a fool; he realized Brielle probably just needed to vent. “Then cry,” he said. “Let it out, and I’ll feel better.” 

No sooner had he spoken than Brielle’s muttled sobs came through, like a wounded animal licking its wounds. “Yeah, how could the baby just be gone?” 

Max had never been one to watch soap operas, and hearing Brielle’s sobbing now, he was convinced such things shouldn’t exist. 

Once the sobs had a way out, they were hard to stop. Brielle really wanted to cry her heart out. but she teared it might make Max suspicious, so she suppressed most of the emotion. 

Joy needed to be shared, and so did sorrow. 

After crying for ten minutes, her eyes were sore, and tearing she couldn’t hold it in any longer, she said, “Max, I’m gonna keep watching, okay? Can you give me the day off?” 

“Don’t stay up too late,” Max cautioned. He wanted to say more, but Brielle had already hung up.
Just then, Kenzo sent a message saying that the guest list for the upcoming barbecue was set. with no blabbermouths included. 

Max thought about Kenzo’s line of work and felt irritated. [Can’t you scriptwriters take some responsibility for your audience?]

[???] Kenzo sent back three question marks, wondering if one of his dramas had caused an issue. He even checked the trending topics on social media, thinking his script might have caused an uproar big enough to reach Max. 

But all was calm. 

This was the first time Kenzo had been on the receiving end of Max’s ire, and he had no ideal why.. 

After sending the message, Max pulled up Aubree’s contact. [Next time, bring Brielle to something less melodramatic.] 

When Aubree saw the message, she thought she’d read it wrong. 

Was Max messaging her first? Really? 

She scrolled through the chat, reading it several times just to be sure. 

She had probably been added as a contact only because of Brielle, and now, out of the blue, he was reaching out to her. But she had already been warned by Brielle not to let slip a word to Max, probably because the two had a falling out. 

Right, Mr. Dorsey, you got it.

After replying. Aubree dialed Brielle’s number, but there was no answer. She tried again. 

Meanwhile. Brielle was curled up in bed, sobbing into her pillow with her body twitching from the effort. Her eyes were swollen, and she looked a mess. 

Ignoring the persistent ring of her phone, she only stopped crying when exhaustion took over, blinking away the pain in her eyes. 

Her voice was completely gone, leaving her unable to answer Aubree’s call. So she texted back. [I’m sleeping now. I need some rest these days.] 

Aubree didn’t respond, probably belleving her. 

When the doctor came in and saw Brielle’s swollen eyes, she felt a pang of sympathy. “Ms. Brielle, you should stop crying. You might tear your wounds open. You need to rest and recuperate.” All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

Brielle didn’t have the energy to respond. Her head lay listless on the pillow. 

The doctor, a woman in her forties, was reminded of her own daughter when she saw Brielle and sighed. “It’s not impossible to conceive: It’s just going to be hard.” 

Brielle remained silent, as still as a statue. 

The doctor injected her with glucose, patiently advising, “You can’t keep on with glucose injections forever. Start eating solid food so you can heal faster. Ms. Brielle, you are young. Some things are better accepted and moved on from.” 

After all, society was brutally realistic, and human nature was complex. 

Having worked in the clinic for so long, the doctor had seen it all. From the wealthy to the poor, the underlying nature of people was intricate. People strutted and fretted their hour upon the stage of the world, boasting, belittling, and meddling in each other’s affairs. 

In the doctor’s eyes, Brielle was lucky not to have actually conceived, for given the nature of the two men involved, the outcome for the child–and Brielle–would likely have been grim. 

Yet Brielle herself was unaware, and the pain of loss was the same whether she had been pregnant or not. 

The doctor drew the curtain and left the room. 

Brielle closed her eyes to continue resting. She rested for four days. 

During that time, Sydney found those days to be the most unbearable. Ever since she had tampered with Brielle’s soup, she hadn’t seen her again. She even began to suspect Spencer might have actually killed Brielle–what else could explain her prolonged absence? 

She went out of her way to confront Spencer on the top floor, but he just ushered her into the men’s restroom, saying nothing, and thrusted into her. 

Sydney knew he didn’t respect her and never really saw her as a woman. To him, she was nothing more than a tool, a mere connection to Brielle,