Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Chapter 918



As Max had pointed out, Brielle was trapped in a kind of emotional dead end, her maternal instincts so powerful that she didn't even notice how wary she had become of everyone around her.

Even in her nightmares, she'd clutch her belly protectively, as if shielding her unborn child from unseen dangers. She wasn't aware of it, but Max saw everything with perfect clarity.

Ramey's eyes met Brielle's, his voice soft and easygoing. "I had a chat with your uncle about your likes and dislikes. Never heard you were this shy around new folks. Or is it just that my face could scare a ghost?" He joked, his demeanor relaxed and friendly.

"No, it's just that... since Brent left, I guess I'm still getting used to things," Brielle admitted, her hand instinctively moving toward her stomach. Remembering Ramey's presence, she stopped halfway and instead used her hand to steady herself against the couch. Ramey noticed the aborted gesture but didn't comment. Instead, he gently asked about her hobbies and what she enjoyed doing in her free time.

After just a few questions, Brielle started to look visibly uneasy, her eyes flitting to where Max was on the phone in the garden, silently pleading for him to finish his call and come back to her side.

What Brielle didn't realize was that this was all part of a plan Max and Ramey had cooked up: Max stayed in her line of sight to keep her relaxed while Ramey took the chance to ask his questions. Leaning back, Ramey gave the signal to Max-it was time for him to return.

Brielle missed their subtle communication, but the moment Max ended his call and sat down next to her, she let out a sigh of relief, a smile spreading across her face as she reached out to link her arm through his. With Max by her side, she was a different person entirely.

In nature, it's common for a female to rely more on her mate during pregnancy. It's a natural instinct, and humans, being complex creatures, face even greater emotional challenges during such times.

"Feeling hungry?" Max asked, lacing his fingers with hers, his voice gentle and soothing.

With Max's comforting presence, Brielle finally relaxed completely, her tension melting away even in Ramey's company.

Sticking to his role as the ever-dutiful butler, Ramey instructed the kitchen staff to bring out dinner.

The three of them dined together, and the atmosphere was relatively harmonious.

After the meal, Brielle, feeling drowsy, headed upstairs to rest.

As soon as she was gone, Ramey set his teacup down, a worried frown creasing his brow.

"Max, Ms. Brielle's on high alert, and her concern for the child is intense. We need to use deep hypnosis, but have you thought about all the risks?"

Max nodded, his expression cool but tinged with sadness-a sentiment Ramey could clearly read.

Max's voice turned hoarse as he looked down at his cup. "When do we start?"

"Next week," Ramey replied. "Ms. Brielle isn't comfortable with me yet. She's very guarded when you're not around. need to spend more time here, build trust with her. Once her defenses are down, I can proceed with the hypnosis."

A thought struck Ramey, and he couldn't help but ask, "Why did my cousin refuse to take on Ms. Brielle's case? He and that female doctor are close friends, and he's taken referrals from her before out of respect. He only turns down cases if they violate confidentiality agreements. So, before we begin, I hope you've thoroughly checked Ms. Brielle's history. If she's been hypnotized before, a second deep

session could seriously damage her

mind."

Max's face darkened. He hadn't been part of Brielle's life from the beginning, so her days under surveillance were mostly unknown to him.

Her life in Beaconsfield had been routine-until she met him, stirring up everything.

His eyelashes fluttered slightly as he

thought about the biggest

shocks like Michael's scheme to secretly give her birth controband then there was the IUD.

Brielle's strong desire for a child suggested the IUD wasn't her choice. So, who else could it be but Michael?This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.


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