Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

What was her life, really, if not a long nightmare that kept offering brief moments of light before snatching them away?

In this dream, she believed happiness was within reach. She kept lifting her head above the water, thinking that with enough effort and if she just refused to give up, she could make a change. But as beautiful as it was cruel, hope granted her the belief in endless possibilities while also subjecting her to that unbearable cycle of raised and dashed expectations.

Brielle felt nothing but a numbing sensation, more terrifying than despair, more harrowing than pain.

Everyone said she wasn't good enough for Max, so she silently strategized, thinking it would bridge the distance between them.

Now, for the first time, she realized how cruel time and distance could be, how arduous the path to success was.

Her heart felt as though it had been hammered, contracting violently, throbbing with pain.

She wiped the blood from her palm, unable to cry.Content © provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

By the time she returned to the base of the mountain, her hair was soaked through by the rain, and she wished someone would tell her if she still had family or if her parents were gone.

If they were gone, could someone point her to their gravestones? Feeling so hurt, she longed to weep before their final resting place.

Clutching the steering wheel, Brielle's lips pressed into a tight line.

She first drove to Pearl Estate to wash her hair and change her clothes. But when it came time to leave, her footsteps felt heavy. After getting drenched, her body was feverish and devoid of strength. What she didn't know was that, when she stood in front of the gravestone, out in the rain, Max had been watching from a distance, racked with guilt and too scared to even offer her an umbrella. Now that Brielle was gone and the cemetery was empty, he climbed the overgrown steps.

Max had never thought of himself as selfish. As a businessman, he always put others' interests first.

Now, standing in front of Mark's gravestone, he felt unable to lift his head.

What was there to say?

Pain stabbed through his heart as he placed the flowers he brought in front of the gravestone and bowed solemnly.

His eyes reddened with grief, like a

man capsizing in sorrow, and it took

a long while before he could

hoarsely say, "I'll take good vel ook

her.

But could he ensure she wouldn't leave?

of

Patrick, holding an umbrella at another path at the base of the mountain, watched Brielle's car pass by.

After a moment of thought, he slowly walked up the steps.

The spring rain seemed endless.

He saw Max standing in front of the gravestone, murmuring something. Patrick quickly raised the umbrella over Max's head. "Sir, let's head back," he urged.

Max's fingers stiffened, and he nodded, but on the slippery path down, he fell, his expensive suit trousers stained with mud. Patrick, startled, dropped the umbrella and rushed to help.

Max stood up, glanced at his mud-splattered shoes and trousers, and merely frowned despite his mild obsession with cleanliness. Patrick, in his haste, nearly fell as well.

There they were, the CEO of Dorsey International and his Chief Assistant, both experiencing such disarray for the first time.

Max didn't bother to clean off the mud but instead reclined in the car seat.

His phone rang - it was Michael, informing him that Brielle had gone to the Dorsey mansion.

Max's brows furrowed. "Patrick, to the Dorsey mansion," he commanded.

Patrick floored the accelerator, and in less than twenty minutes, they were at the mansion.

Max's trousers were still caked with mud as he strode towards Michael's study. But as he was about to open the door, he heard Brielle speaking.

"I agree to break up with Max. Can you let James go?"

Her voice was steady, resolute.

Not a moment's hesitation to be heard.