Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Chapter 467

The moment the words left his lips, Michael’s cane came crashing down on Spencer’s back, sending a shiver through his body.

Michael’s scalp tingled with fury. “Stubborn as a mule! You don’t give a hoot about your own folks, but you’re all worried about a stranger. Your dad hit Max with the car last night, and I had to whisk him and Faith out of Beaconsfield in the dead of night. Spencer, your mom chose to leave you behind; don’t you go disappointing her.”

Spencer’s pupils shrank sharply, deflated like a punctured balloon. He stopped his ruckus about what he would do with Brielle, simply lowering his gaze and clutching the blanket in front of him with a death grip.

Growing up in a powerful family, he knew what being sent away meant. To outsiders, Michael had washed his hands of them, and keeping Spencer was just a nod to the last thread of kinship.

“You take the time to get well. Once you’re out of the hospital, I’ll find you a suitable marriage to keep you from mooning over a would–be murderer all day long.”

Spencer fell silent, and once the old man had left, he realized Alivia was still standing in the hospital room. Her face carried the same gentle smile as she poured him a glass of water from the dispenser. “Spencer, Michael and I just came from Max’s room. He’s forgotten all about Brielle. Congrats, she’s all yours now.”

Her words treated Brielle like some cheap trinket.

Spencer was about to reach for the glass, but his hand froze mid–air at her words. “Are you certain?”

“Mmhmm, the blood clot in his head must’ve squeezed some nerves. Ever since he woke up. he’s been out of it, not a peep about Brielle.”

and his lips curled into a

yours to shape or shatter as you please. Max won’t interfere anymore. Once he’s healed up, he’ll be

to you, Ms. Alivia, for getting

long as Jaired hurried things along, getting Brielle into trouble behind

snuff out Brielle’s life, not out of kindness; she wanted to drive Brielle

to crush a spirit was the

Brielle curled up on the narrow cot, feeling the chill seeping through her bones. She wanted to sleep, but

Chacher 267

her wounds, admonishing her to

poured down Brielle’s face. The sound of the iron door being knocked echoed, and then it swung open. Her blurred vision couldn’t make

Inmates. Inside, time lost all meaning, and

cold floor, Brielle was engulfed in darkness so absolute she couldn’t even see her own fingertips. She didn’t

Brielle maintain her position on the floor, puzzled. “It’s been three hours. She hasn’t begged for mercy or

us the same order:

shame, she’s quite the looker.”

in nature, couldn’t afford to be gentle;