Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Brielle felt a chill creeping through her bones, her eyes widening in disbelief as she watched the two officers flip through the photos.

The man remained maddeningly unflappable, “She’s my girlfriend. Just a little tiff we’re having. She’s denying me now, but officers, this is just a lovers‘ spat, isn’t it? No need to drag us down to the station, right?”

His face was all smiles, but his eyes were full of malice. Clearly, he had planned this all along.

Brielle pressed her lips together, knowing all too well how domestic disputes tended to be downplayed by the police when the word “relationship” was mentioned. Her face darkened as her gaze fixed on the suit jacket clutched in the man’s hand.

With a sleazy grin, the man said, “Honey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you like that tonight. Come on over here, and we’ll sort everything out back at home.”

The photos he provided were damningly realistic, and even though Brielle knew they were falsified, she couldn’t immediately prove it otherwise.

The officers looked a bit shaken, and finally, they sighed. “Why can’t you young lovebirds just sit down and talk things out without making a scene and calling us?”

The man, with a roguish sneer, hands in his pockets, replied, “Ah, well, you know how emotional women can get. Sorry to bother you officers, I’ll just take her and we’ll be on our way.”

He made a move to approach, but Brielle stepped back, her gaze sharp. “Officers, there should be a camera at the entrance of the apartment complex.”

No sooner had she spoken than one of the officer’s phones rang, indicating some directive from the higher–ups. This guy was bold in this part of town because he had someone backing him.

The call was from someone with the Hatfield family.

The officers exchanged glances, then waved their hands dismissively, “Alright, no need to make a scene out of a lovers‘ quarrel.”

Brielle knew someone had intervened. The night’s events were orchestrated.

But who could she turn to? The Haywood family? Content bel0ngs to Nôvel(D)r/a/ma.Org.

The Haywoods wouldn’t stick their necks out for her, and going back to them, hat in hand, would probably just amuse them. She couldn’t be left here. With this guy’s methods, he might actually disfigure her.

Brielle’s eyes reddened, but against the backdrop of those photos, any defense she offered would seem like emotional desperation.

She got into the police cruiser first, giving the address for the Premier Palace. She couldn’t go back to her apartment or to the Haywood family, and she couldn’t drag Aubree into this mess. Premier Palace seemed to be the only temporary shelter available.

The man didn’t expect Brielle to make such a move and furrowed his brow, but ultimately, he didn’t dare follow her into the car.

The young officers, thinking Brielle was just unwilling to reconcile with her boyfriend, sighed. “Miss, are you really not planning to talk things out with your boyfriend?”

“It will hurt your relationship. You’re both so young. Why can’t you discuss this calmly?”

No amount of words from Brielle would help. She stared out the window at the suit in the man’s hands, feeling a tightness in her chest. “Just take me to Premier Palace, please.”

The officers didn’t refuse. Besides, Premier Palace was much more than a mere haunt of the wealthy and powerful.

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The police cruiser couldn’t enter the premises, stopping about two hundred meters from Premier Palace’s gates. Brielle, barefoot and forlorn, stepped out of the car.

The officers watched her retreating figure, shaking their heads. “Young folks these days are just too fragile.”

The man had provided too many photos for anyone to believe that someone who had attacked another person. would fabricate such évidence. And with the Hatfield Inc. people vouching, they truly believed it was just a lovers‘ spat gone wrong.

Brielle walked barefoot for a while, feeling the cold sting on her face. The pain in her feet grew more pronounced until she stopped, gazing at the grand entrance of Premier Palace and let out a self– deprecating laugh.

What good would coming here do?

She limped to a bench at the roadside, pulling out the shards of glass embedded in her foot. Blood gushed forth, and the sharp pain drove back her tears.

She took out her phone again. “Officer, my name is Brielle. Someone has stolen corporate secrets from Dorsey International, and I’d like to report it. Yes, it’s him. The suit he’s holding belongs to the CEO of

Dorsey International, and there’s a tiny USB drive inside with Dorsey’s confidential files. Please take this matter seriously.”

Everyone in Beaconsfield knew about Dorsey International. Any case involving Dorsey International couldn’t be taken lightly.

Half an hour later, Brielle and the man were brought to the police station. The man hadn’t expected to end up there. Seeing Brielle, he feigned deep concern. “Sweetheart, I said we could talk about our issues privately. What’s this all about now?”