Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Max's words faded into a muffled backdrop as Brielle's focus narrowed on the video file on the computer. It was the footage of James pushing Martha, clear as day.

With a click, Brielle watched the entire sequence, her eyes narrowing at the damning evidence. James had indeed pushed Martha, and his face, post-incident, was a mask of smug satisfaction.

Blinking away the sting of fatigue, she scrutinized Martha's hand movements in the video. However, the footage was too distant, too devoid of sound to capture such minute details. It was all but impossible to discern the truth from this angle. This video was tantamount to a conviction for James.

Footsteps echoed from the master bedroom, pulling Brielle from her thoughts. Max was up, probably roused by the noise she'd made. Without glancing at him, she remained transfixed by the screen until Max sat down beside her and softly closed the laptop. "Did you sleep well last night?" His tone was casual as he tenderly inspected the faint shadows under her eyes, evidence of her restless night. Thankfully, the bruise that had marred her cheek had vanished.

She tried to muster a smile for him, but it was a struggle she lost.

Deep down, she had started to believe James' side of the story. Martha had released the brake herself, framing him.

But what could Brielle do? Michael wanted the Fox family to pay the price, Max himself demanded retribution, and her lone knowledge of the truth seemed futile.

Was she really going to suggest to Max that Martha might have sought her own end?

Brielle closed her eyes and recalled the misunderstandings that had once clouded her relationship with Max. Perhaps, just maybe, he would trust her. Max had always been her greatest believer, though the hope seemed faint.

want to tell me?" he asked,

Brielle nodded. "Max, I visited James in jail. He

her sentence, and the chilling shift in Max's demeanor stopped

icy change was directed at her, a

frosty. "Are you suggesting my mother sought her own

he turned to face her, his gaze remained unsettlingly serene. "How long have you known James?"

other for just one day. Yet Max and Martha shared a mother-son bond that

jdly traced

the overseas clinic, enduring daily injections and sleepless nights from pain, she fought to live. She always urged the doctors

swayed by someone she barely knew, suggesting that his mother had chosen

an

over Brielle, spreading

of despair, but she came around, actively cooperated with her treatment, and was determined to

nearly too stiff