Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

ex thought about it. The more his mouth purkereri as if he had just bitten into a

handful of nour lemons

#took a Herculean effort not to swing by Stellar Stage Entertainment outside of work ours He closed his eyes and regulated his breathing in short, controtted bursts it’s fine.” he thought. He was still Brielle’s favorite, even if her fondness wasn’t exactly profound.

Patrick, observing Max’s furrowed brow, couldn’t help but interject. “Mr. Dorsey, Mr. Michael called. He said that Spencer’s wedding is set for two days from now, but you can’t bring Ms. Belle along. If you do, you may as well not attend yourself”

Michael’s stance was crystal clear, he would not acknowledge Brielle as his daughter–in–law within the next six months. As for what happens after that, it would depend on Brielle’s achievements.

Currently, Brielle was tied up with the mess at Stellar Stage Entertainment. If she wanted to make a name for herself, she’d have to hustle, which meant spending even less time with Max. Max was a busy man, entangled in a web of commitments. Throw in the overseas. acquisitions, and he was bound to be even busier than before. Any slight misunderstanding could become a thom in their relationship.

Max’s eyes fluttered open. “Then I’m not going.”

Patrick, surprised by Max’s curt reply, paused before adding another piece of news. “Ms. Martha has been calling repeatedly, insisting you meet with her today, no matter what.”

It was undoubtedly about Brielle again. For the first time, Max felt the gnawing irritation. known as annoyance. “Keep me updated on her condition,” he said, signaling he had no intention of visiting.

Patrick hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Alright.”

After Patrick left, Max leaned back in his chair, his eyelids heavy with fatigue. He was well aware of his father’s intentions: to exhaust him with pressure from all sides so that his feelings for Brielle would wane.

To Michael, their affection seemed superficial, akin to a common cold that would vanish quietly without much intervention.

Did Max even understand what love was? He didn’t know.

Michael knew his son better than anyone else. He had purposely thrown Brielle into the entertainment industry, a place teeming with handsome men, convinced that she would eventually be seduced by beauty and power. Even if she was faithful to Max now, what about the future?

With no clear vision of what lay ahead and faced with such a merciless reality, how much confidence could they possibly have?

Max rubbed his temples, then heard his office door open. Someone walked in without

knocking

“Mr. Dorsey.” Sydney mimicked Brielle’s tone deliberately, her voice calm and steady. “These are the documents you’ll need for this afternoon.” She placed them on the desk, her gaze lingering greedily on Max.

Max’s expression darkened. “Out. This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

Sydney blanched, but her eyes still clung to him with a mixture of defiance and desire.

Max didn’t even glance at her, his attention fixed on the papers. Sydney clenched her teeth. “Ms. Haywood stopped by the office this morning to wrap up her work. I thought Mr. Spencer would be returning, so I called him, but he didn’t pick up. In my haste, I forgot to knock.”

She kept her tone light, wearing a subtle fragrance that she hoped would appeal to him. The money she had siphoned from Spencer was enough for a comfortable life, but Alivia’s arrival shattered all her pride. Money wasn’t enough; power was essential. Someday, she would crush Alivia and her haughty demeanor.

She had to win over Max. He liked her type, didn’t he? She could play the part. As long as Brielle stayed away from Dorsey International, Max’s attention would eventually turn to her.

“I said, out.” Max had no interest in deciphering her thoughts, unwilling to waste his time.

Sydney took a deep breath, her smile strained. “I’ll leave right after I say this. I found something in Ms. Haywood’s office, something I was going to toss, but then I thought I should bring it to you.”

She pulled out a black rosary, her voice earnest. “I don’t know if this belongs to Ms. Haywood or you, sir. The janitor almost threw it away, but luckily, I found it.”

Max’s pupils shrank, and his grip on the documents tightened..