Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

The Haywood residence was a beacon of light in the quiet of Beaconsfield, with Cameron lounging on the plush sofa, poring over some documents. He sensed Lillian’s descent down the grand staircase and set the paperwork aside.

With her lips pursed, Lillian rubbed her eyes, the embodiment of distress.

“Cameron, has the mess been sorted out yet?” she asked tentatively. She was referring to the scandal where Faith had boldly called off her engagement, a move that had left the Haywoods red-faced with embarrassment.

But what could be done? The Haywoods, though a respectable name in the top ten of Beaconsfield’s elite, owed much of their social standing to the favor of the Dorseys. Without the Dorsey influence, the Haywoods were merely wealthy, nothing more.

Lillian perched carefully on the edge of the sofa, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Bri was probably just spouting nonsense the other day. If Faith really does call off the engagement, will the Haywoods…”

Cameron’s gaze drifted to the expanse of skin on her neck, feeling a sudden dryness in his throat. He averted his eyes and adjusted her collar for her. “Don’t worry about it. Even if the engagement is off, the Haywoods won’t crumble,” he reassured her.

“Cameron, did you keep up with today’s auction?” Lillian inquired, switching topics.

He nodded. He’d heard about it, but such events were beyond the Haywoods’ social reach. “Bri was there, but I don’t know who she went with. I’m always concerned she might fall in with the wrong crowd,” Lillian confessed.

Cameron’s brow furrowed at the mention of Brielle. “She’s the one who’s been acting irresponsibly!”

“Cameron, don’t get mad. Maybe I’m misjudging her. Why don’t you talk to her when she gets back? Bri is still upset with me. I’m too afraid to call her.”

“Lillian, the Haywoods regard you as their own daughter. You’re no less than her. You don’t have to belittle yourself like this.”

She leaned back into the sofa, an action that once again exposed her collar. Lillian was nurtured by the Haywoods into a woman of fine complexion. While her features were merely pleasant, her vulnerable charm could soften any man’s heart.

Cameron, already fond of her, couldn’t resist pulling her into his embrace upon witnessing such vulnerability.

Lillian struggled feebly in his arms, “Cameron, let me go. I can’t give you a definite answer just yet. This isn’t right,” she whispered, her voice soft and deliberately coy.

Cameron’s breath deepened, and he pinned her gently to the sofa. “Lillian, I’ll wait as long as it takes for you.”

Tears began anew, as if she bore the weight of the world’s sorrow. Her tear-streaked face softened Cameron’s intentions, and he gently lifted her up, comforting her with his closeness.

Lillian sniffled, “I’m still worried about Bri. She won’t see me now. If you can, please talk to her.”

Mentioning Brielle scattered Cameron’s good mood. Because of her, the Haywoods were unjustly embroiled in a mess. Now their parents were groveling to Faith, and who knew what they were enduring.

However, he couldn’t deny Lillian’s request, and he agreed despite the bitter taste in his mouth.

Lillian had achieved her aim but remained uneasy. She didn’t know how Brielle managed to attend the dinner. If Max had taken her, Lillian was determined to ruin Brielle in Max’s eyes. She had manipulated Spencer and Cameron, and she was confident she could do the same with Max.

And if Max became enamored with her… The mere thought made Lillian weak at the knees.

Meanwhile, across the globe, a gala had just concluded.

The media, camped at the entrance, were eager to capture the crème de la crème of society. Only a few young executives were willing to face the cameras; the rest departed discreetly. Even so, the media would speculate wildly about the departing guests, ensuring headlines across North America the next day.

Brielle entered Max’s car, but the atmosphere was cold as ice, seemingly crushing her with its weight. That frosty air emanated from Andrew, who regarded her with icy scrutiny.

Brielle instinctively moved closer to Max, a cold sweat breaking out on her back. Andrew sneered, stretching out his legs and crossing them with the lazy menace of a panther.

“First Dustin, now Flynn. Brielle, your ambitions are quite lofty, aren’t they?”

Andrew had returned to the hall after finishing some paperwork, only to witness Brielle and Harper chatting amiably.

Brielle frowned, realizing Andrew always harbored hostility towards her. Resigned to this, she boldly reached for Max’s slender fingers and caressed the palm of his hand.

Andrew’s face darkened, his eyes narrowing. This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

A wave of relief washed through Brielle as she straightened her fingers and slipped them through Max’s, a tingling sensation spreading through their intertwined hands.

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