Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Max yanked the IV from his hand and grabbed his jacket, striding toward the ward room door.

Patrick moved to support him but was met with a curt, “Check on Brielle’s car crash.”

Taken aback, Patrick nodded and hurried to make the arrangements.

As they stepped into the elevator, Max’s icy presence was so overpowering it left Patrick. struggling for breath. Noticing the blood still seeping from Max’s hand, Patrick wanted to say something–anything–to break the tension, but the words wouldn’t come.

Max was already on his phone to Brielle as they exited the elevator. Her phone, engulfed in flames inside her car, went unanswered.

Frustrated, Max redialed his manager’s number. By now, the manager, having the good sense to support Brielle, had ushered her into the hotel lobby to rest.

“Ms. Brielle, Mr. Dorsey is really worried about you. He’ll be here soon,” the manager reassured her.

Brielle frowned in disbelief. Max? “You mean Max?” she asked, incredulous.

The manager nodded, going pale at the sight of her bleeding. “We should get you to the hospital before this gets any worse.”

Brielle, who had a lump in her throat at the thought of Max’s concern, felt her grip tighten on her pants. “He’s worried about me?” After the cold way they’d ended things, could he really be worried?

The manager nodded vigorously. “To Mr. Dorsey, you’re more important than family.”

Brielle couldn’t help but laugh at the rumor, though it eased the bitterness she felt.

Sensing her skepticism, the manager was about to mention Spencer when the hotel doors swung open, and Max strode in. His jacket dangled from his elbow, his expression as frosty as ever. The sight of the blood on Brielle’s foot made him grimace.

She was shocked. How did he get here so fast?

Max crouched to inspect her injury, with onlookers beginning to take notice. Brielle was worried that someone might recognize Max. If that scene ended up online, it would undoubtedly attract. gossip and rumors. Andrew’s words from earlier had become a thorn in her side. She was Max’s only stain.

This untouchable man was meant to be suspended high above all else.

Her nose stung with the effort to hold back tears as he examined her wound. The thought of Spencer still locked upstairs made her anxious, and the memory of Max’s words to end things

filled her with hurt.

Without a word, Max wrapped an arm around her. “If this gets infected, you could lose the leg. If

you don’t want to go to the hospital, I’ll take you to Premier Palace. You can heal there, and you’ll have care. If you don’t want to see me, I’ll stay at a hotel.” This content provided by N(o)velDrama].[Org.

Brielle’s frown deepened. Why would she not want to see him?

Meanwhile, the manager’s eyes bulged. Ms. Brielle was already staying at Premier Palace? Had Mr. Dorsey really given up his home just to appease her?

This was no different than a husband kicked out of his own house after a tiff with his wife.

The manager looked at Brielle with newfound reverence, realizing that anything concerning her had to be a top priority.

If Max hadn’t shown up, Brielle would have considered the injury trivial, just a bit more blood than usual. She’d been through worse. But with him there, the pain seemed to intensify to ant unbearable level.

Biting her lip, tears started to flow. Whether it was the pain from her wounds or the emotional ache from his declaration of ending things, she couldn’t tell. All she knew was that she couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, and like a faulty faucet, they wouldn’t stop falling.

Max, thinking her pain was too much, held her close in a tight embrace.