Master of his heart ( Brielle And Max )
Chapter 647

Chapter 647 

Brielle wasn’t at all surprised when her phone lit up with Aubree’s name. The last thing she wanted was for Aubree to bring up Andrew and Tessa’s wedding. 

“Bri, are you hurt?” 

Brielle was taken aback. She hadn’t told anyone about her injury, and it wasn’t circulating online. How did Aubree find out? 

“Yeah.” 

‘Did Andrew do it?” 

Brielle really wanted to downplay it, to say it was just a minor concussion, something a couple of days‘ rest could fix. But suddenly, she felt a pang of cunning. She didn’t want to explain. Maybe this would push Aubree to distance herself from Andrew. Between her safety and her love for Andrew, Aubree would surely choose the former.. 

“Yeah, Aubree, you coming back?” 

The turmoil in Aubree’s eyes roiled like a stormy sea upon hearing Brielle’s confirmation. She wished she could teleport back to Beaconsfield. 

Those assholes! 

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Aubree replied, “Yeah, I’ll be back by morning to see you.” 

“I’ll be at the Premier Palace tomorrow. You focus on your shoot. Don’t worry about me.” 

After a few more exchanges, Brielle hung up, still concerned about Aubree’s mental state. With the news of Andrew’s marriage spreading online, Aubree likely knew about it, but she showed no reaction. 

Brielle breathed a sigh of relief. She put down the phone just as the bathroom door in the private hospital room swung open, and Max emerged. The room was a luxury suite, complete with a small kitchenette but only one bed. 

Brielle noticed Max’s phone had been ringing off the hook, but he hadn’t picked up once. His hair was damp as he sat on the edge of the bed. 

It was late, eleven at night, time to sleep, but thoughts of Aubree’s return kept Brielle awake. Plus, Michael had been pressuring Max to return to the family estate, adding to her restlessness. 

She snuggled into bed beside him, finding solace in his arms, and couldn’t help asking, “Is Michael trying to replace you because of the fight?” As the heir to the Dorsey family, his public outburst was a disgrace. Worrying about both Aubree and Max made Brielle feel like her heart was being fried. 

Max, In his pajamas, patted her back soothingly. “I hold fifty–one percent of Dorsey International’s shares. No one can replace me.” 

But Brielle’s unease persisted, sensing Michael had something up his sleeve. 

“Don’t worry. Sleep,” Max murmured, kissing her forehead. 

Brielle’s anxiety was amplified, and she suddenly propped herself up on his lap. “Max, you’re not going to break up with me, are you?” 

Max’s voice turned hoarse. They’d been too busy for sex lately, and her move had ignited a fire within him. He closed his eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “No, I’ll go to the estate tomorrow and have a talk with my father.” 

Relieved, Brielle lay back down on his chest. “I can’t think of what Michael would do to you, so I’m worried.” 

Darkness flickered in Max’s eyes, his fingertips tracing her waist. “Don’t worry.” 

Finally feeling sleepy, Brielle slid down beside him, her worries easing. She thought they’d return to Premier Palace together the next day, but when she awoke, Max was gone. 

Patrick was waiting to take her back. 

When she arrived in Premier Palace, she tried to call Max, but he didn’t answer. 

Sensing her concern, Patrick offered her a book. “Ms. Brielle, the CEO will be back soon.” 

Brielle’s mind wasn’t on reading. Then her phone rang. Aubree had arrived in Beaconsfield. Their crew had taken up residence in the same run–down neighborhood John used to live in. They had rented several clean, spacious rooms. 

She texted Max about visiting Aubree, but he didn’t look at his vibrating phone. 

In front of Max was his father, practicing his calligraphy in silence, a priceless painting hanging behind. 

The study, crafted from solid wood and furnished with Michael’s favorite pearwood chairs, was filled with the faint scent of coffee. 

Neither spoke, a silent contest of patience. 

Seasoned in life’s battles, Michael continued to write with a steady, forceful hand, as ruthless as his business tactics. Brielle had been right. Under Michael, the Dorsey family had seen many disappearances. He was the most ruthless of them all. 

Max might have been sharp in business, but he had never turned his hands against his 

own family. In certain situations, Michael might have lost his conscience, and Max simply disdained petty fights. 

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