Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Chapter 1025

Brielle couldn't care less about the royal squabbles that had plagued Saudi Arabia for generations. What really grabbed her attention was a specific point in time, exactly ten years ago. That was when Max left their sleepy town of Beaconsfield at just sixteen to conquer Wall Street. Even now, Max's true identity remained a mystery to her, a secret he never chose to disclose. If her suspicions were accurate, the whole scenario was downright bizarre.

Rising from her seat, Brielle shut her laptop and noticed that Dustin was also getting up.

"Got him," he said.

"Who?" she asked.

"Dummy."

"Little Hawk, you should get some rest. I'll go check it out," Dustin suggested.

Brielle frowned, "Bro, I'm coming with you."

Dustin didn't argue.

scene, the first thing Brielle noticed was a pool of blood, sending a chill down her spine. The trail of blood led into a dark corner. She grabbed Dustin's arm and shook her

headlights on, but the people were gone. The area clearly showed

to a tree. She recognized the handwriting as Kenzo's from their university days spent together in the library.

meet alone, claiming he had discovered a secret. Knowing the place and sensing the urgency in Kenzo's message, Brielle communicated silently with Dustin, quickly forming

his near-fatal betrayal of Dustin, forgiveness was out of the question. Sharing the enemy's message with a loved one was a no-brainer for Brielle, especially under such strange circumstances. She suspected Kenzo

through several back alleys before entering a diner that reminded her of their favorite spot back in Beaconsfield. Its hidden location and nostalgic decor

seated inside, didn't look up but pushed a cup of

life in North America?" he asked, his tone unnervingly

his professor-like demeanor, acting as if past grievances didn't

not one for socializing. I should never have approached you," he mused, almost to himself, stirring his tea absentmindedly. Brielle wanted to stop him right there; she had no interest in rehashing their past, a past devoid of any significant

father insisted I meet you, to make

he referred to 'the professor' as

public persona. I've never

her cup tightened. What