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.”

a hundred million just shooing away the guests

would be woven into a scarf. But he was just as curious about what made this particular scarf so

care of that scarf, having it cleaned and maintained daily, never expecting it to disappear after just

dug a finger into his

million, alienating numerous guests, and having the staff at Tequila Sunset scour the place all night all came down to a scarf that was hand–knitted by

it just an ordinary

out loud but didn’t know where to direct his anger, so he managed to blurt out, “Damn! Love is a real piece of work!”

after another, and love

Utterly pointless.

was right to have left early. He was likely

feeling the weight of several restless days, and as the lounge

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

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 stolen something far more valuable from someone else?

thought of exiting quietly but heard

with the car. Just a pile of ash left. It’s no use to anyone now.” Patrick

was wide awake.

a pang of tightness/spreading across his chest.