Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

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.

seething with plans for revenge, panic was setting in. The police were knocking at

Tessa. Though not the favorite of the Rowlands, her frequent visits to Tessa would surely pay off.

awkward silence with the departure of

the cold wall, sweat beading on her forehead. Exhausted, she longed for

behind the scenes. This was her

lashes fluttered, her fingers weakly curled, then

had no strength left to look up, resting quietly with her eyes closed. She knew

to mumble a few words. “You sure get around, don’t you? Can’t

scorn, his gaze trying to pierce through

felt cold, a chill rising from her feet and spreading through

and a respectful

we owe the honor of

her eyes open, but could only make out a blurry

of light, radiating warmth as

couldn’t help but nuzzle into it. Then her body swayed, and

1/2

15:09