Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Brielle felt drained, bone–weary to her core. Even when she heard their taunts, she could only muster a faint glance in their direction.

The two men felt slighted by her dismissive gaze and grabbed her hair roughly in a fit of anger.

“Word on the street is you just lost a kid,” one sneered. “Why dwell on it when you can have a bit of fun? How about you make a couple of kids with us, eh? We’ll give you a ride you won’t forget.”

“Oh, and by the way, Ms. Brielle, you might not have heard the latest gossip–your lover got into an accident, banged up his head pretty badly, and now he’s got amnesia. Can’t remember a thing about you. He’s about to tie the knot with somebody else, Ms. Alivia.”

Brielle’s emotionless facade trembled as her lashes fluttered in disbelief. She looked up. voice barely a whisper, “Liar.” NôvelDrama.Org owns this.

her

Seeing her finally react, the men let out a sigh of relief. They threw her into a dingy little room that seemed to frighten her none, leaving them at a loss. Earlier that day, they’d received a call from a woman who instructed them with grave seriousness on how to break Brielle’s spirit.

“Us, lie? Isn’t your beau the big–shot CEO of Dorsey International? Do you really think he’s into someone like you? He’s all set to marry Ms. Alivia, and both families are over the moon. While you’re rotting here alone, we figured you might be a bit lonely. So, how about you give in to us?”

Their hands started to creep toward Brielle’s collar but were met with a cold, mocking laugh. The fear vanished from her face, replaced by an icy detachment. Her rational mind was returning. “So even with me locked up here, some people are still nervous, huh?”

The color drained from the men’s faces, but she pressed on, her gaze piercing. “Because if I ever got out, whatever she’s got now would be as fleeting as a mirage.

Faith, being who she was, would have made sure the whole Dorsey family knew about her son being knocked out, including Michael. And Tiffanie had always said Michael was fiercely protective–so the decision to throw Brielle in jail might have been his idea.

But a man of his stature, with years in the business world, wouldn’t resort to sending two thugs to defile a woman. Michael probably didn’t care how she fared in jail; he just wanted her gone for good.

Someone was terrified of her getting out, scared of her showing her face again. That was why they were so concerned about her well–being in this cell.

Brielle had felt devoid of spirit, almost too numb to resist what seemed like fate. Maybe she really was cursed, abandoned by fortune itself. But she couldn’t let anything happen to Max. As long as she wasn’t dead, as long as she had a breath left in her, she had to get out and see what was really going on.

– burst of fun thay grabbed her throat. “You think you’re

tough, huh? Well, make sure you scream loud, cuz we want to enjoy ourselves!”

Brielle’s face turned crimson from the lack of air, but she didn’t forget to throw a threat back at

them.

“Choosing not to kill me outright suggests that someone behind you wants me alive. If you mess with me like this, aren’t you afraid of what I might do to you once I’m out? I’ve crossed the Dorsey family, even laid one of their heirs. Who knows what I might do to you if I lose it?”

Her laugh was harmless, yet it sent chills down their spines.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and a uniformed officer appeared at the threshold. “What the hell are you two doing? Who gave you permission to take justice into your own hands?”

The men jumped, releasing Brielle immediately, muttering, “But we were told-

The officer waved them off, his impatience clear. “Told what? You don’t even know which side will win, and here you are, eager to prove your loyalty. Do you want to end up like she said, targeted for revenge when she’s ou? Let her go. Treat her well. Even a woman in chains sees further than you. Your lot’s destined to be jailers for life.”

The men dared not defy him, casting a resentful glance at Brielle as she arched an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth curling into a sly grin.

“Still laughing? Are you trying to provoke us? Is that it?!” Their fists clenched, ready to strike, but recalling the officer’s words, they held back.

Brielle closed her eyes, ignoring their vulgar tirades, and made her demands. “I want a shower, I want a decent meal, and no funny business with my food. I need a softer bed; the current one’s giving me aches.”

“Say that again?!” the men spat, enraged and ready to lash out.