Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

She knew avoiding Max like this was hurting him, but she just couldn't help it. She desperately wanted to have this baby. But why couldn't anyone understand her?

From Brielle's perspective, she knew her health wasn't great, but she was clueless about the whole contraception issue. She thought her frailty was the only problem and that pregnancy could be fatal for both her and the baby. To her, this was a challenge she could overcome. If she started eating regularly, getting enough sleep, and taking daily walks to gain some weight back, everything would fall into place.

But Max? He was dead set on not having the baby.

Brielle just couldn't understand his point of view, and it pained her.

Standing in the elevator, she stared at her reflection on the shiny walls, realizing she had indeed lost a few pounds. Her frailty wasn't just in her mind.

Growing up, she'd always worried about the bare necessities. During harsh winters and sweltering summers, she never had a decent pair of shoes. The cold and damp had long seeped into her bones.

After reaching adulthood and throwing herself into work at Dorsey International, her meals were often irregular, leading to stomach issues.

Brielle now bitterly regretted dedicating her life to Dorsey International. She had invested everything into the company, neglecting her personal life completely. And in the end, the Dorsey family had only used her. "Bri, you've really lost a lot of weight."

Aubree, looking at her, suddenly made that remark, then reached out to touch her forehead.

"Are you sick?"

"No, Aubree, I can't go shopping with you today. I need to rest."

Seeing how exhausted she was, Aubree didn't dare insist on her company and watched as Brielle got into her car.

It was only noon, but Brielle couldn't fight the drowsiness. Carrying this child was clearly a huge burden.

She had realized this and had consciously slowed down at work.

Once back at Premier Palace, she collapsed onto the bed without hesitation and fell asleep within a minute. But it was a restless sleep. She dreamed of a masked man.

In the dream, she was lying in bed, heavily pregnant, tears streaming down her face.

Strangely, even though she wanted this baby in reality, in the dream, she was desperate to get rid of it. She sensed a bone-deep murderous intent from the man, and an inexplicable, entangled ambiguity. Terrified, Brielle tried to scream, but a hand covered her mouth, and a finger was placed on her lips. "No one's going to save you. Stay put, stop trying to run."

Brielle's pupils contracted in fear, and she jolted awake from the nightmare.

Drenched in sweat, her lips trembled uncontrollably.

She quickly got up, filled the bathtub with water, and soaked herself.

Nausea surged in her stomach, making her want to vomit.

Max entered, not finding her in bed.

The bathroom door was closed. He opened it and saw Brielle asleep in the tub, thankfully with the water still warm.

He grabbed a towel and gently dried her off before carrying her out of the tub.

In a daze, Brielle felt someone feeding her soup. She ate it in big gulps, her subconscious urging her to eat more for the baby's health.

"Sleep now."

Max's voice was soft as he kissed her on the lips.

Brielle slept until the next afternoon. After freshening up, she descended the stairs only to see a strange man in the house.

Her step faltered, and her grip on the railing tightened.

Max, sitting on the sofa reading the newspaper, stood up and embraced her, introducing the newcomer.

"This is the new butler, Ramey, a distant relative of Brent's."

In truth, that wasn't the case. It was just a cover for Ramey, given Brielle's heightened sense of caution.

"Is Brent leaving?"

Brielle felt uneasy.

"Yes, Brent's getting on in years and it's time for him to retire."

Max pulled her down to sit beside him, soothingly patting the back of her hand.

"Ramey's here to replace Brent. He comes highly recommended by him."

Brielle nodded. She watched Max take a phone call and step out into the garden.

Through the glass doors, she could

ret

only see his silhouette, apparent deep in conversation with whoever on the other end.

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ever

Meanwhile, the young man in front of her offered a gentle smile.

"Ms. Brielle, are you feeling nervous?"

Ramey had an unassuming look. His features, taken individually, were average, but together, they exuded a calming presence.

Unlike Kenzo's deep, impenetrable

gentleness, Ramey's demeanor was

like the warmth of spring,

vel.

inadvertently disarming one's

defenses.