Master of his heart

Chapter 82
As Lillian turned away, a sly smile curled the corners of her lips. She hadn’t anticipated such a lucky break.
The marks on Brielle’s neck certainly weren’t from Spencer. After all, he had been tied up in his own troubles these past few
days. It seemed Brielle had indeed been rolling in the hay with some unsavory characters.
At this moment, Lillian felt on top of the world, as though even the gods were conspiring in her favor. With Brielle tarnished in
such a way, who would want her now? Especially since she was on the verge of crossing the Rowlands and the Hatfields.
Unable to contain her glee, Lillian stealthily pulled out her phone and texted Sophia. [Sweetie, sorry, I can’t help you this time. I
tried to get the Haywoods to come, but Brielle’s stubborn as a mule. Now Miranda’s fainted from the stress, and I need to dash to
the hospital. What’s your game plan?]
Sophia was deeply touched by the message. Compared to the troublemaker Emily, Lillian was practically an angel. [I guess I
have no choice but to turn to Tessa, hoping she can get Andrew to step in. Lillian, you’ve been a lifesaver. Is Miranda okay?]
Lillian didn’t reply immediately, deliberately waiting a good fifteen minutes before responding. [Not sure yet, gotta go. Ugh, Bri’s
really not giving an inch this time.]
Seeing Brielle’s name, Sophia felt her eyes burn with rage. Indeed, that bitch! Despite everyone’s pleas, she hadn’t budged an
inch.
Sophia sneered, vowing that once she got through this ordeal, she’d find someone even tougher to take Brielle down a peg. Next
time, it wouldn’t just be rumors. She’d have a video of Brielle’s escapades spread all over Beaconsfield. Then she’d see how that
hussy would have the gall to stick around.
Although Sophia was seething with plans for revenge, panic was setting in. The police were knocking at her door. As the cold
handcuffs clicked around her wrists, her hatred for Brielle and Emily deepened.
She had already sent word to Tessa. Though not the favorite of the Rowlands, her frequent visits to Tessa would surely pay off.
Tessa would come to her rescue.
Meanwhile, the police station fell into an awkward silence with the departure of the trio.

Brielle leaned against the cold wall, sweat beading on her forehead. Exhausted, she longed for rest, but she heard that Sophia
was on her way.
She didn’t know Sophia, which meant someone was pulling strings behind the scenes. This was her chance to expose everyone
involved.
Brielle’s lashes fluttered, her fingers weakly curled, then relaxed. Her nose tingled, eyes growing hot.
Footsteps approached the door again, but she had no strength left to look up, resting quietly with her eyes closed. She knew that
many people at the scene were eyeing her neck, thinking she was promiscuous and fickle.
The man who was handcuffed also took the opportunity to mumble a few words. “You sure get around, don’t you? Can’t blame
folks for wanting to ruin your pretty face.”
His words dripped with scorn, his gaze trying to pierce through the fabric covering her, to strip her bare.
Brielle felt cold, a chill rising from her feet and spreading through her body, making her lips quiver.
The footsteps grew closer, and a respectful voice announced, “Mr. Dorsey.”
“Mr. Dorsey, to what do we owe the honor of your personal visit?”
Brielle forced her eyes open, but could only make out a blurry silhouette.
He was like a beacon of light, radiating warmth as he approached. His warm palm rested on her forehead, and
she couldn’t help but nuzzle into it. Then her body swayed, and she was enveloped in his arms.
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Chapter 82
“Uncle Max?”
Her voice was hoarse, filled with yearning as she nestled into his chest.

Max didn’t respond, his expression as cold as ice. The temperature in the room plummeted, and everyone was too intimidated to
meet his gaze.
He carried Brielle out to the waiting car.
Brielle curled into his embrace, wincing in pain. His warm palm seemed to touch her very soul, and fearing she’d dirty his hands,
she quickly recoiled. “It’s dirty.”
She didn’t know if this was reality or a dream.