Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Chapter 148

Andrew had just been swindled out of thirty million, and harboring resentment towards Brielle was a oven. He’d never been so thoroughly duped by a woman before. Thus, when Max didn’t reob. Andrew anxiously started sending messages again.

[You’re not seriously considering marrying her, are you? With a woman like Brielle, if she actually falls for you, good luck trying to shake her off.]

Not getting married.]

Max replied to that query pretty swiftly. He had no feelings for Brielle, had never contemplated marriage, and therefore, a future with her was absolutely out of the question.

After responding, Max stopped paying attention to the conversation and instead focused on the pile of documents in front of him.

It was bedtime, yet he felt not the slightest hint of sleepiness. After all the recent upheaval, he

wondered how Brielle was feeling. Was she at her apartment?

With these thoughts in mind, he slowly stood, picking up his suit jacket. Just as he reached the downstairs, he ran into Wesley, who was warming up some milk. “Sir, you’re up late.”

Max was usually punctual in his routine, except when working overtime. Seeing him with his suit Wesley assumed Max was heading to the office for more work.

“Sir, shall I wake Patrick to drive you over?”

“No need.”

foyer, his demeanor as businesslike

Wesley thus about how

was, off to handle more company matters. Wesley decided it was time to brew some hearty soup to help Max sustain his energy. Max headed to the garage and chose a more subdued Mulsanne to drive to Brielle’s apartment. As the car

he doing? Why was he out in the dead of

roles in this charade. There was no need for seriousness. And certainly no need to lose sleep

reasoned there was no need, Max’s exit from the car was

its elevator plastered with colorful eye–catching ads. The first time he woke up in this building, those ads gave him a moment of discomfort. It wasn’t that he looked

Chapter 148

at the familiar door and

After ringing the bell three times with no answer, he remembered WhatsApp and sent

[Where are you?]

sat in a chilly hospital corridor, the air damp and cold.

in the operating room went out, and the

his mask, his eyes red with fatigue, “Does the patient have other children? We didn’t miss the golden hour for treatment, but his

become paralyzed, even turn into a vegetable from such an episode. Mark had been lucky this time.

though her heart had been punctured. “Isn’t there anything else we can try? Money is not an issue.”

brought him in immediately, the patient might have ended up

in her eyes

at the door, her

deal with it. Instead, she raised her hand to rub her forehead, exchanged a few words with the doctor, reduced some swelling on her cheeks, and

wondering if perhaps she was asleep and hadn’t seen the messages. He tentatively rang the bell again, and suddenly a neighbor opened