Master of his heart (Max and Brielle)
Chapter 1258

The room was as quiet as a whisper in the dead of night. Andrew held her close, gently patting her back without saying a word. Tears silently streamed down his face, landing softly on Aubree's back. Deep in sleep, she didn't notice his silent sorrow.

When the morning sun nudged Aubree awake, she found herself tucked snugly in bed. She noticed a yellowish mark on her foot where she'd scraped it, a sign someone had treated it with antiseptic. Memories of the previous night's chaos came rushing back, and she

couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret as she massaged her temples. She had been so panicked, so out of sorts.

After getting out of bed and freshening up, Aubree headed to the living room. The mess from the night before was tidied up, and a beautiful bouquet now adorned the coffee table. On the dining table was a still-warm breakfast, suggesting Andrew hadn't left long ago. Aubree marveled at Andrew's newfound culinary skills. It wasn't long ago that he couldn't even operate a washing machine. Back when they were together, he was the epitome of a spoiled rich kid, leaving his clothes strewn about, expecting her to pick up after him. If he came home to no dinner, he'd throw a fit. And washing dishes? That was a surefire way to end up with broken plates. Household chores were a mystery to him.

Aubree often joked that it was a good thing he was born with a silver spoon because he wouldn't survive in a regular household. Now, seeing the perfectly toasted bread and eggs, she was momentarily taken aback.

Before, his attempts at cooking were disastrous. Eggshells in the mix, and the eggs themselves charred and inedible. But the breakfast before her now was a revelation. The eggs were golden and inviting, the toast perfectly done. She knew he had been dabbling in cooking lately, but his rapid progress was astonishing.

Sitting down, Aubree savored the meal, only then noticing a few droplets of water on the table. She touched her cheeks and realized she had been crying. But why? She couldn't quite understand.

After finishing breakfast, Aubree

picked up her phone from the coffee

table. It was fully charged and powered on, with a message from John asking when she'd arrive. She quickly replied, grabbed her bag, and headed to the set.

John sighed in relief when he saw her. "I tried calling you last night, but Mr. Clements said you'd be late. I thought maybe you and Mr. Haywood had a little too much fun at dinner," he joked. Aubree, flashing a bright smile with no trace of last night's distress, replied, "Bri's under tight watch; no chance for drinks. I'm ready to get into makeup. Today's a one-take day!"

John smiled, satisfied, and patted

her shoulder. "Your phone was off last night when I tried to reach you added a scene unexpectedly; it. needs your cooperation. Take a good look at the new script."O

Aubree felt confident until she saw the scene involved an attempted assault on her character, causing her face to pale instantly.

John, misinterpreting her reaction,

quickly explained, "It's not about

l.ne

using sexual violence as a gimmick. Your character is the type that could unintentionally provoke unsavory thoughts in men. Now, having offended someone petty, and given this individual's disdainful attitude towards his wife, it's plausible he'd demean women in such a way. But it's precisely this action that reveals his true nature to you, enabling you to appeal to his wife for help."

John was a sincere director, and this plot twist was his brainchild, conceived in the wee hours to add depth to the narrative.

"Aubree?" he called out, noticing her grip on the script tighten, her knuckles whitening as though she might tear it apart at any moment.