Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Jose breathed a sigh of relief. As long as Michael accepted Alivia as his daughter–in–law, Brielle would never gain the approval of the Dorsey family.

Knowing Michael for years, Jose was well aware that this old man was far from calm. He was merely biding his time.

With his fiery personality, Max couldn’t be suppressed by mere tactics. Brielle needed to accumulate enough disappointment to leave of her own volition.

The chasm between the two was too great; what passed for affection would become a deep. bitter bond. The further things progressed, the more unpredictable the dangers became.

After hanging up the phone, Michael handed his mobile to the butler.

The butler, noticing the fresh calligraphy spread across the chairs and table from the night before and that morning, knew Erik’s mind was already in turmoil. It was only Michael’s years of business acumen that kept him from flying into a rage.

Considering the gravity of the situation, the butler marveled at Michael’s composure and dreaded the thought of what his response might be when he finally took action. Then, remembering the figure still kneeling at the entrance, a flicker of uncertainty crossed the butler’s face. “Sir, Mr. Spencer has been kneeling at the doorstep for over twenty–four hours now.”

Michael’s brush paused, his temples throbbing with pain.

“And you haven’t had breakfast yet, sir. Your health is important.” The butler’s voice held a note of concern.

Michael set aside his brush and took a warm towel to clean his fingers before making his way outside with the aid of his cane. There was Spencer, ashen–faced and unsteady, his forehead bruised from his steadfast vigil.

Michael felt a stronger pulse at his temples – one nuisance after another!

“Grandfather! Please don’t let Uncle Max be with Brielle. She was my fiancée, and Uncle Max’s dalliance with her will be the talk of Beaconsfield! If Brielle is to marry, it should be to me, Grandfather, I-”

His plea was cut short as the cane came crashing down upon him. Spencer winced in pain but bit his lip, refusing to make a sound.

“Brielle has you all in a twist! You’re determined to drive me to the grave. It was you who insisted on getting engaged to her when you were both so young, and it was you who later called it off. If it weren’t for you, would Brielle have ever met Max?!”

This was precisely why Spencer felt such indignation. His knees ached from kneeling, and his blood felt like it had turned to ice.

“I was the one who saw Brielle’s shine first, and Uncle Max has no right to steal her away!” NôvelDrama.Org copyrighted © content.

Michael swung his cane again, fury in his stroke. Tears welled up in Spencer’s eyes, and he couldn’t hold them back any longer.

His pitiful state only fueled Michael’s anger. “You were outdone by a woman in business and are now in love, too? If you want to kneel, keep at it, and maybe it’ll clear that lovesick fog in your head.”

Spencer fell silent, his lips pressing together as tears continued to fall.

Michael stepped past him and headed downstairs, calling for the butler to accompany him on a walk. He needed to cool off and escape the sight of this weakling that infuriated him so. He had never been this way with Max, who had a calmness unlike others from a young age. Any anger thrown at Max would be met with a silent gaze, making the aggressor look more like a fool

To deal with Max, Michael had to be colder and more ruthless. But with Spencer, his disappointing grandson, Michael sometimes wished he could end it all with a few good swings of his cane.

Spencer had been kneeling since the previous evening, his knees numb, his mind aflame with the image of Max and Brielle hand in hand. Why should they be together so carefreely?

Spencer continued his vigil into the afternoon, hungry and swollen, utterly disheveled. He heard footsteps behind him and thought Michael had returned, but turning his head, he saw William. William had been at the scene last night, too, but since Brielle showed up in the box, he had remained silent. Without saying a word or making a move, Michael had locked himself up all morning – a clear sign of his disappointment in Max. Now, with his grandson still fixated on the Issue, Brielle was likely to become a thorn in his side.

“Spencer, kneeling won’t change anything. Get up. Even if you faint here, your grandfather won’t stop Max. Who in the Dorsey family could? If you want to break those two apart, you have to start with Brielle.”

Spencer raised his hand, furiously wiping away his tears. The rough fabric stung his tender skin, but the pain only sharpened his resolve.