Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

While juggling the honest affections of one man, she reveled under the touch of another, all the while spouting lies.

Any fondness Brielle had for Sydney vanished in an instant. How could someone so devoid of moral fiber be anything but complex?

The irony wasn’t lost on Brielle; she had misjudged Sydney.

But Adrian, ever trusting of Sydney, reminded her. “You keep at your overtime. It’s almost midnight, and my birthday’s ending. Just wish me a happy one, will you?”

Sydney was lost in the moment, and cut the call short. Her patience had worn thin as her arms found their way around Spencer’s neck.

On the other end, Adrian felt a sting of rejection but then remembered he wasn’t alone–Sydney’s workmate was there–and a blush crept up his cheeks. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Adrian was honest, sensible, and easy on the eyes.

Brielle pursed her lips, not revealing she was Sydney’s boss, nor did she expose the lie. Instead, she offered, “Wanna head down together?”

Adrian was relieved to be acknowledged, and beamed with gratitude. “Sure, thanks.”

As they shared the elevator ride, Brielle couldn’t shake her doubts and had to ask. “Have you and Sydney been a thing for long?”

The mention of Sydney brought out his smile. “Yeah, we grew up near each other. She’d always come over to play, claiming she’d marry me. My folks adored her and funded her education, so we’ve been classmates since grade school. It’s been nearly twenty years now.”

His tone softened when he spoke of her.

Brielle glanced at his modest attire, much like her own. Yet Sydney’s purse alone cost a fortune.

“So why haven’t you two tied the knot?”

A shadow of sorrow crossed Adrian’s face. “I’m saving for a house. My salary isn’t much. It’ll take a few more years to afford the down payment.”

“Why not ask Sydney to cut back? Her bags don’t look cheap.”

“No way, I told her from the start–I can’t skimp on her. I meet her every need, and she’s sensible. We’ll marry soon.”

Brielle felt a pang of sadness, maybe anger, thinking of the ten years she spent being deceived by Spencer. Yet here was a man still in the dark, heart brimming with sincerity.

11-50

She couldn’t bear bursting his bubble and simply wished him well as they reached the lobby. “Take care, and happy birthday.”

Adrian stiffened; she was the first to wish him well that day. “Thank you.”

Brielle sighed, watching his retreating figure.

Meanwhile, Max had arrived at the sanatorium, post–chat with the doctor, standing aside, lost in thought.

When footsteps approached, he didn’t turn until Alivia’s voice reached him. “Max, still here at

this hour?”

She had just left Martha’s room with a tray in hand, the epitome of care.

Max nodded, noting her weariness. “Alivia, let others handle this.”

She handed off the tray to a passing servant, wiping her hands with sanitizer before approaching Max, aware of his need for cleanliness.

“I could, but I’m back in the country anyway. The research center’s site has just been finalized, and there’s debate abroad about who to send. I’m free for now, so I visit Aunt Martha often.”

Max wasn’t keen on small talk.

Alivia, sensing his cool demeanor, probed, “Ms. Brielle didn’t come with you?”

At Brielle’s mention, Max’s expression turned colder.

Alivia, pleased, sensed discord. With Brielle blaming Martha for her supposed loss, facing Max upon awakening would be anything but calm. Their strife was her opportunity.

“Max, you’ve always struggled with women. Is there a problem? If you see me as a friend, you can confide in me. Aside from Ms. Brielle, I’m the only woman you’ve been close to.” Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

Her sincerity was disarming.

Aunt Martha is concerned too, hoping we’d marry. Now that you’ve found someone, I won’t pressure you. But cherish what you have. Ms. Brielle seems like a good woman. Otherwise, I’ll regret letting you go.”

She deftly wove a hint of intimacy, suggesting life with her wouldn’t be as troubling.