Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Chapter 582

Brielle had just returned to the grandeur of the Premier Palace, her presence igniting a spark in Wesley’s eyes as he caught sight of her. “Mr. Max mentioned earlier that you wouldn’t be back tonight. Luckily, I had the kitchen whip up an extra dinner just in case. Ms. Brielle, have you had your meal yet? Both you and him have been burning the midnight oil lately. You’ve got to take care of your health.”

Indeed, the recent ordeal had left her a shade paler than usual. But with her appetite eluding her, she politely declined Wesley’s offer.

Sensing her mood, Wesley couldn’t help but inquire. “If you’re feeling down, perhaps a good book might lift your spirits? Or a stroll in the garden to admire the flowers? You’ve been at the Premier Palace for a while now, but you’ve hardly had the chance to explore. There’s even a grand private cinema here, though Mr. Max never really uses it. He rarely watches movies.”

Max was a man who seldom paused his relentless pace. His rare moments of leisure mostly involved catching up with a few friends or spending time alone with a book and a cup of coffee, occasionally indulging in a fine glass of red wine.

After dating Max, Brielle had never really shared much about his past. However, tonight, with Victoria and Alivia’s reminders, her curiosity was piqued.

“Wesley, do you have any pictures of him as a kid?”

Wesley paused, then shook his head with a hint of regret.

“He hardly left behind any childhood photos. No photographer enjoys snapping pictures of a kid who won’t smile, and he himself was always resistant to the idea. The photo you see of him in the financial papers? They’ve been recycling the same one for years. That’s practically the only picture of him in existence.”

felt a twinge of disappointment. She really wanted to know what Max had looked like as

a child.

a smile. “However, I’d say he looked much the same as a kid–just a mini version of his current self. Chiseled like a sculpture, he had the air of a cherubic angel. There were plenty of young ladies who would sneak glances at

the thought, a vivid image forming in her mind. A pint–sized Max stood aloofly at the periphery of a bustling party, his icy gaze surveying the adults mingling with their clinking glasses. Dressed in a tailor–made black suit

not having shared in his past

much excitement in his younger days. Ms. Martha always had high hopes for him. As soon as he could walk, he was

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Chapter 582

himself to the brink of exhaustion, running fevers as high as a hundred and four degrees. Michael sometimes couldn’t bear to watch Martha push him so

was using her own life as a

kitchen to prepare a light. soothing soup.

warm broth, she washed up and settled into bed. Just as sleep was about to claim her, Wesley’s words echoed in her mind, and she couldn’t resist. She reached for her phone and shot Max a message.

meeting over

some