Master of his heart (Max and Brielle)
Chapter 1065

Max was always upfront. Since he hadn't been involved in the past drama between these two, he saw no reason to jump in and mediate now.

King, on the other hand, had a serious grudge against him, clearly pulling the strings from behind the scenes.

Even if Max told him, "I don't mind your presence," he knew King's personality well enough to realize that wouldn't fix anything.

Because Max had been around before King, King was deeply insecure, always fearing he might vanish one day, worried he was just a shadow of Max.

The more arrogant King seemed to the world, the more insecure he felt inside.

King's existence was entirely because of Max, and he was terrified that Max could take it all back at any moment, which made him anxious.

When King fell for someone, his anxiety went through the roof, always afraid Brielle might leave, convinced she didn't need him.

So, he built walls around her, thinking that would make her stay forever.

During Max's introspective phase, he began to understand how King came to be, and it stirred something deep inside him.

Max was always a bit emotionally clueless, rarely showing his feelings.

He realized he had long ago decided to discard that impulsive, scared, fragile part of himself.

No one understood King better than Max. Competing for control was pointless.

But in Max's eyes, recognizing King didn't mean he had to respect him. After all, the way King treated Brielle was unforgivable.

King hadn't realized his mistake yet, so Max figured it was only fair to let him face Brielle's wrath.

Brielle had a sharp tongue, capable of cutting deep, something King hadn't experienced yet, but he was about to.

Max believed Brielle should reclaim her own peace.

Gently, Max kissed Brielle's forehead.

Love required selflessness, or at least the ability to hide one's selfishness well.

That was his gift to Brielle.

As he drifted off, Max's thoughts were interrupted by that all-too-familiar, annoying voice.

"Smart move."

Max's response was as brief as ever.

"Buzz off."

"Ha, don't think too highly of yourself. You just hope I'll come out, handle everything, and then you can reap the benefits, letting Brielle see your true colors." Max was a man of few words, but King... King was a talker.

There's a saying: the guiltier you feel, the more you talk.

Why had King orchestrated everything to keep his existence from Max?

Because he was scared of disappearing, knowing full well he was the newcomer.

Facing Max, King's words especially overflowed, bordering on petulance.

"Max, just watch. When I wake up, I'll have her, over and over."

"Go ahead. I'll still feel the pleasure."

There's nothing like out-shaming the shameless.

King fell silent, choked by his own indignation.

The room quieted.

When Brielle woke up, sunlight filled the room, casting a golden glow even on the sheets.

Looking at the person beside her,

she felt as that c in herd

a sense of Max's presencet

gentle, trustworthy aura.

She couldn't help but snuggle closer, convinced Max had returned to her last night.

Her theory seemed correct; getting closer to King seemed to bring Max back.

King, still half-asleep, felt the weight of someone on him.

Opening his eyes, he saw Brielle, her cheeks flushed, almost within reach of past happiness.

He raised his hand, caressing her cheek.

Brielle looked away, her gaze falling. It wasn't Max; it was King.

But at this point, there was no turning back.

Just as she was about to settle in, she was pushed away.

Confused and disheveled, she sat on the bed.

King got up, straightening his clothes, his mind replaying Max's last words.

He needed to find a way to deal with Max permanently before getting intimate with Brielle.

Otherwise, wouldn't he just be handing Max a victory?

His expression darkened. As he was about to leave the bed, Brielle's a wrapped around his waist from

behind.

"Are we not doing this?"

To walk away now, after coming this far?

Was he resisting?

sams

Maybe, considering he had once loved someone else and even had a child.

And now, her seduction carried an ulterior motive. His sharp mind must have sensed it.

King looked down at the hands

around his waist, having fantasized countless times about her taking the initiative. Now, she was there, holding him, pressing against him, yet all he could do was look, not touch.

A surge of frustration crossed his face. Max knew exactly how to get under his skin. They knew each other too well; a single word was enough to hit where it hurt the most.