Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

At this juncture, it seemed to everyone that Brielle had lost spectacularly, like a court jester in the midst of his final, pitiful tumble. Even from the audience, there were sympathetic glances. cast towards Robert, whose business associates had begun offering their consolations.

And Spencer, he felt more than ever that his choice was right. Brielle, an enigma with no clear background, simply wasn’t worthy of him.

The quietest person in the entire hall had to be Max. Even in the midst of this unfolding drama. he remained unshaken, occasionally casting a slight, mysterious smile in Brielle’s direction. No one could tell if he was mocking her or if it was something else.

As for Miranda and Lillian, they exchanged looks that seemed to say they found Brielle utterly laughable. At this point, whipping out a screenshot of a money transfer would only serve as evidence of her humiliation.

All her boasts of being a Director at Dorsey International now seemed rather hollow.

While everyone was still abuzz with gossip, they noticed the big screen change to display a spreadsheet. This spreadsheet detailed various expenses with corresponding invoices and prices. The crowd’s faces registered shock. Whose expenses were these?

The hall fell silent, eyes riveted to the spreadsheet. Involuntarily, they turned to Brielle.

Her expression unchanged, she began to explain methodically, “This is the sum of money the Haywood family has spent on me over the years, which amounts to less than two million. In my ten million, I have also included various interests and adjusted for inflation. So, what exactly have they lost?”

The spreadsheet was meticulous, detailing down to the number of clothes the Haywoods had bought for her.

The necklace Miranda purchased for her, complete with the receipt.

The gifts Cameron brought her from abroad, with their prices listed.

The audience’s expressions were a mix of emotions as Brielle continued to add details.

“Some might argue that the Haywood family has spent time and energy on me which surely counts for something. For this, I have prepared another spreadsheet.”

With that, the screen shifted to the next image. She spoke not as someone unraveling her past, but as if she were in the midst of a business negotiation. Illustrating her points with examples, her logic was undeniable.

“This shows the time I spent at home during my middle school, high school, and college years. After graduating with top honors from Beaconsfield, I tutored for three months before college, earning enough to cover my living expenses. So, what energy exactly did the Haywood family invest in me? From a young age, they arranged tutors for Lillian. They even sent me to learn taekwondo for Lillian’s personal safety. What do I owe her?”

15:40

The level of detail in the spreadsheet left little room for rebuttal.

“The Haywoods provide Lillian with luxury cars, designer clothes, jewelry worth millions. Have I ever said a word?”

Her face was serene as she recounted these disparities, showing no sign of feeling aggrieved. yet her words left a lump in the listeners‘ throats. If this was true, was she ever really treated as a daughter of the Haywood family? Why the stark difference?

The room fell into a brief silence, but there were always one or two who enjoyed stirring the pot. “Ms. Brielle makes it sound so easy,” someone called out. “How can you possibly owe nothing. to the Haywood family? Without them, how could you be worthy of an engagement with the Dorsey family heir? Over the years, you’ve leveraged the Dorseys to gain quite a bit. It seems a bit flippant to dismiss that, doesn’t it?”

Upon hearing these words, Miranda finally snapped back to attention. Brielle’s recent maneuvering had left her a bit disoriented, unsure of how to proceed. Fortunately, someone handed her an opening.

“Bri, I know you’re harboring some resentment,” she began, her eyes welling up with what seemed like emotion. Brielle’s previous presentation had been so detailed that the audience was more curious about her next explanation than they were empathetic with Miranda, leaving her looking awkward and out of place.

Even Brielle paid her no mind, instead raising her gaze to address the man who had spoken. “I exploited the Dorsey family for resources? What resources? Connections? Then tell me, who here would call themselves my friend?” Còntens bel0ngs to Nô(v)elDr/a/ma.Org

Her self–deprecating, almost sardonic retort effectively silenced her critic.

Who was Brielle’s friend, indeed? Most people just viewed her as a joke, let alone considering any social connections.