Brielle felt like she was running out of air as if someone had a vice-like grip around her throat.

Max didn't seem angry with her. He was just stating a fact, but it still sent a shiver down her spine.

She even wanted to bolt, to find a quiet corner somewhere to catch her breath.

"Brielle, if you're feeling wiped, you should head back and hit the hay," Max suggested.

Before she could muster a response, he spoke up. The subtext was clear: they both needed a moment to cool their jets.

Brielle stood up, her body stiff as a board. She wanted to say a million things, but what would they be?

Could she convince Max of her innocence?

She put herself in Max's shoes and knew her words must have crossed a line for him.

Now, Max seemed set on taking down the Fox family, working overtime to find something, anything to prove she wasn't one of them - all to extricate her from this mess. Meanwhile, Brielle was busy making excuses for James. No wonder Max was steamed. Neither of them was at fault. It was always the same tragic tune - whenever they hit a snag, it turned out nobody was to blame.

Without another word, Brielle left the place. It felt like her feet were encased in lead, and it felt as if she was hauling a ton with every step.

Patrick was waiting for her outside, and seeing her out of sorts, he took the initiative to drive her back to the Premier Palace.

a blank slate all the

was about to step out of the car, Patrick briefed her. "Ms. Brielle, you should take it easy for the next few days. Mr. Max has been up all night waiting for news, and now,

at the Premier Palace, she felt

Based on what she'd heard from Max, the police must

couch,

to the Fox family, James was still paying

no way to clear James' name yet, was Brielle supposed to let him

eyes brimming with tears. She was always the type to tackle things head-on

of gold had suffered because of her, and it pained her

sher

a heart of gold, who would buy that? He was a guy who made a

bitterly, half-wishing she had never set

she hadn't and just passively accepted everything laid out for her, she wouldn't really be herself, would

drooped as Wesley inquired. "Ms. Brielle, you seem down. How about I whip

don't feel like eating

information about

his dues. So, she picked herself up and

glitzy Beaconsfield, in a melting pot of society, but the street was clean. Despite the

the shopkeepers were eager to

yeah, he's a

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