Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Chapter 502

Brielle’s heart swelled with emotion, a familiar warmth blooming in her chest. Only Max could stir her so deeply with just a few words.

She had always detested how intimate relationships could turn language into a weapon. It was the understanding of each other that could be twisted into a hurtful barb, but that wasn’t any sort of skill. It was merely taking advantage of the other’s open heart, their vulnerabilities laid bare in trust, which shouldn’t be used as a target for attack.

Throughout the time she’d known Max, he had never used words to wound her. He had enveloped her in a cocoon of safety, truly fulfilling his initial promise. Every word he uttered was with intent and was not tossed carelessly into the wind.

Max studied her with earnest, trying to decipher the emotions swirling in her eyes. The thought of rejecting a gift worth billions would have seemed absurd to anyone else, but Brielle had done just that.

The sensation that washed over him was hard to place–it was the first day of confirming their romantic relationship, and his present was being returned.

His mood soured, a brooding silence falling over him as he gathered the documents, placing them aside as if they were nothing more than scrap paper.

“Max, what would you like for a New Year’s gift? How about a scarf? Hand–knitted by yours truly,” Brielle ventured, hoping to lift his spirits with a skill from her past.

In the orphanage, she’d knitted scarves and mittens for the other kids to save money, honing her craft with dedication.

A smile tugged at Max’s lips, barely contained joy threatening to break through his usually composed demeanor. It seemed like he was charmed by the idea.

relief. “Let’s hit the mall now. You can pick out the yarn, and I’ll aim to have it done by New

“Alright.”

was sitting in the front seat, set the

was probably Max’s first excursion to such a place in years. His life was meticulously planned by assistants–every meal, every outfit, decided

beelined for the yarn aisle, taking his hand. “What color do you fancy?”

settled on

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Chapter 502

about picking the wrong color. Max had the kind of face that could make even the tackiest neon look regal. After bagging the yarn, Brielle’s gaze drifted to a display of slippers nearby, and she couldn’t help but point them out. “Look, couple’s

of whimsy, Max took the bag from her. “Should we get

black and white

cart.

with Max was an even rarer treat. She simply grabbed anything that seemed practical, especially if it came

from head to toe until the carts were brimming. Realizing she might have gotten carried away, Brielle felt a tad embarrassed. But as if by magic, Patrick emerged, silently directing the staff to

car, Brielle was too exhausted to lift a