Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Chapter 679

A scarf had led to an all–night manhunt, but the thief might as well have vanished into thin air. Despite turning every private lounge Inside out, there was no trace to be found. Moreover, there was a concurrent cyber attack on the surrounding security systems. This job was so slick it had to be the work of someone on the international most–wanted list.

The staff couldn’t fathom what was so special about Mr. Dorsey’s scarf that warranted such a massive uproar from the thieves. Could it possibly bear the secrets of Dorsey International’s business strategies?

Everyone was baffled and on edge.

Max had been sitting on that couch all night, his eyes now half–closed, his thoughts a mystery to all. The rest of the room remained silent, not daring to speak.

“Go on. Get out,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, likely having given up on the scarf.

Those present felt a wave of relief wash over them as they shuffled out of the lounge, their bodies heavy with exhaustion.

The commotion stirred Jaired, who had been dozing off to the side. He stretched languidly and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Did you find it?” His voice was still rough with sleep.

Max was irritated and yanked at the tie around his neck, his usually impeccable composure now visibly disturbed.

“No.”

all this fuss? You must’ve lost at least a hundred million just shooing away the guests last night. What

jesting, of course, knowing full well that no trade secrets would be woven into a scarf.

mood. He had taken such care of that scarf, having it cleaned and maintained daily, never expecting it to disappear after just a

misheard and froze, then dug a finger into his ear. “Say that again?”

loss of a hundred million, alienating numerous guests, and having the staff at Tequila Sunset scour the place all night all came down

just an ordinary scarf?

was in disbelief! He wanted to curse out loud but didn’t know where to direct his anger, so

another, and

Utterly pointless.

kicked a table, regretting the wasted night in the lounge. Kenzo was right to have left early.

the weight of several restless days, and as the lounge quieted down, he leaned back on the

that had been found with the remains of the scarf inside. Barely anything was left of it, unrecognizable from its original form. It might have

the thief’s exit. Clearly, whoever was behind this had a strong motive, but Patrick couldn’t puzzle out what they truly intended to steal. Was the scarf just a secondary prize, and had they

exiting quietly but heard a hoarse voice ask, “Did you find

pile of ash left. It’s no

was wide awake.

Max grunted, a pang of tightness/spreading across his chest.