Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Chapter 774



The Dorsey family stood in silence at the doorstep, the air heavy with unspoken words, until Michael finally let out a weary sigh. "Alivia, did Martha say anything before she left us?" Alivia glanced at Max, who stood apart from the rest, his expression unreadable-lost in his own world.

He looked so alone.NôvelDrama.Org owns all © content.

"Martha wanted me to marry Max. It was her last wish, but I know he's reluctant, so..." She trailed off, her voice fading into the stillness.

Michael turned to face his son. "Max, what do you think?"

Max's fingers tensed, the coolness seeping into his very bones as if the chill in his heart had spread to every limb.

With downcast eyes, he rasped, "Let's talk about it later."

Michael scoffed. "What, can't even fulfill your mother's dying wish?"

Max looked up, his eyes devoid of emotion, like a frozen wasteland devoid of life. "Father, Mom has just passed. I don't want to think about this right now." "Martha's funeral arrangements are your responsibility."

"I know."

Max remained standing, wordless, while Michael conversed briefly with the doctor about the arrangements for Martha's body before departing.

The other members of the Dorsey family wore complex expressions, some with schemes in their eyes, merely exchanging knowing glances.

Victoria glared at Max, her teeth clenched. "That bitch! If I run into her again, I won't let her off so easily! She'd better leave Beaconsfield, or she'll pay the price!" Victoria's face was twisted with spite, her nails digging into her palms.

Alivia understood why Martha had chosen to spirit her away. If the second child was another daughter, Martha's position would have been in jeopardy. She smirked, her lips curling with smug satisfaction.

"So Martha's sacrifice now was only fitting," Alivia thought. After all, hadn't Martha chosen to sent her away?

Alivia felt no guilt, only a deep, affectionate gaze toward Max.

It was perfect. She alone knew this secret-well, her mother knew too, but she had cherished Alivia as her own for so many years.

Alivia's mother, Mrs. Barnes, had been Martha's accomplice, conspiring from the start to raise her.

Michael must have had the doctor examine Martha, a doctor who surely had been bribed to declare Martha was carrying a son.

At this moment, Alivia felt like the happiest person in the world. Her adoptive mother, Mrs. Barnes, bad provided for her as if she were her own flesh and blood.

Her birth mother, Mrs. Dorsey, was willing to trade her life to fulfill her daughter's love.

Cherished by these two women, what couldn't Alivia achieve?

Martha was right; Max was destined to be hers.

She was the true heroine of this saga, and Brielle was nothing more than a minor jester.

Alivia managed to contain her laughter, instead listening to Victoria's curses about how vile and outrageous Brielle was.

Max, however, just frowned slightly and urged Victoria to leave.

Soon, only Max and Alivia remained.

Alivia stepped forward, gently

placing her hand on his shoulder et

"Max, don't worry about Martha's

last wish. I really do want to marry you, but I know you—"

Her words were cut off by Max's blunt interjection. "Aren't you and Jaired giving it a try?"

Alivia's temper flared, and her face paled. She awkwardly withdrew her hand. "We did, but I realized I still prefer you. So, I made things clear with Jaired."

Max looked at her for a long time before finally saying, "Even if I'm not with Brielle, I won't give you a chance."

That single sentence shut down all of Alivia's passionate confessions. She stared at him in disbelief, her expression contorting with emotion barely held in check. "Max, don't you care about Martha at all? This was her dying wish. You and Briette are

over. Martha won't forgive you both."

Max's lashes drooped, concealing a flicker of pain.

He didn't need Alivia's reminder. He knew all too well. Not only would his mother never forgive him, but neither would Brielle.

He was fated to be alone, and perhaps there was a bitter sort of peace.


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