Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

He took a deep breath and gently patted her shoulder. "Get some rest. I'll wake you when Dustin gets here."

Brielle was completely worn out. She had spent the last couple of days traveling, and now that she was finally home, she faced a mountain of issues with the Dorsey family. She could tell Max had a lot on his plate too, but he dropped everything to be with her the moment she sent that text.

She didn't even get the chance to ask if her message had messed up his plans before she drifted off to sleep.

Max stepped out onto the balcony, staring into the distance. His phone lay next to him, still turned off. He wanted to smoke to calm his nerves, but remembering that Brielle was pregnant, he resisted the urge.

Turning his phone back on, he ignored a slew of missed calls and dialed his trusted doctor to arrange a comprehensive check-up. Expectant mothers can be easily upset, and Brielle had already faced a traumatic experience concerning a child before. Although she hadn't been pregnant then, the pain was real. So when it came to anything about the baby, she couldn't stay calm and deal with it properly.

After hanging up with his private doctor, Max's phone rang again. Seeing the number, his brows furrowed in reluctance. He answered just as the screen was about to go dark, and an anxious voice came through.

"When are you coming over? Have you lost your mind?"

his voice

everything and rush over because she's pregnant. Father has found out that I've been helping you, Max. I won't last much longer, and neither will your health." Max coughed twice, his eyelashes drooping. "The doctor said the

the other end mad, but after a few minutes, they calmed down, knowing this must have hit Max hard. He had said many times how much he looked forward to his child, whether a boy or a girl. As soon as he knew Brielle was

won't

cool railing, his

of my lab. He won't be giving you any more medication. You won't last

a door being kicked in on the other end,

what you call a proper

the middle-aged man in a wheelchair, his third son,

quietly helping you again.

Michael said

doing