Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Chapter 582
Brielle had just returned to the grandeur of the Premier Palace, her presence
igniting a spark in Wesley's eyes as he caught sight of her. “Mr. Max mentioned
earlier that you wouldn't be back tonight. Luckily, I had the kitchen whip up an
extra dinner just in case. Ms. Brielle, have you had your meal yet? Both you and
him have been burning the midnight oil lately. You've got to take care of your
health.”
Indeed, the recent ordeal had left her a shade paler than usual. But with her
appetite eluding her, she politely declined Wesley's offer.
Sensing her mood, Wesley couldn't help but inquire. “If you're feeling down,
perhaps a good book might lift your spirits? Or a stroll in the garden to admire the
flowers? You've been at the Premier Palace for a while now, but you've hardly
had the chance to explore. There's even a grand private cinema here, though Mr.
Max never really uses it. He rarely watches movies.”
Max was a man who seldom paused his relentless pace. His rare moments of
leisure mostly involved catching up with a few friends or spending time alone with
a book and a cup of coffee, occasionally indulging in a fine glass of red wine.
After dating Max, Brielle had never really shared much about his past. However,
tonight, with Victoria and Alivia’s reminders, her curiosity was piqued.
“Wesley, do you have any pictures of him as a kid?”
Wesley paused, then shook his head with a hint of regret.
“He hardly left behind any childhood photos. No photographer enjoys snapping
pictures of a kid who won't smile, and he himself was always resistant to the
idea. The photo you see of him in the financial papers? They've been recycling
the same one for years. That's practically the only picture of him in existence.”
Brielle felt a twinge of disappointment. She really wanted to know what Max had
looked like as
a child.
Wesley's eyes twinkled with mirth, his lips curving into a smile. “However, I'd say
he looked much the same as a kid—just a mini version of his current self.
Chiseled like a sculpture, he had the air of a cherubic angel. There were plenty of
young ladies who would sneak glances at him. Anyone who managed to
exchange a few words with him would brag about it for days in their circles.”
Brielle’s heart softened at the thought, a vivid image forming in her mind. A pint—
sized Max stood aloofly at the periphery of a bustling party, his icy gaze
surveying the adults mingling with their clinking glasses. Dressed in a tailor—
made black suit and seeming to exist in a realm of his own. Untouched by the
surrounding revelry.
The regret of not having shared in his past experiences was palpable.
“In truth, there wasn’t much excitement in his younger days. Ms. Martha always
had high hopes for him. As soon as he could walk, he was reciting classics and
poetry and even started
12.24
Chapter 582
attending finance lectures at a tender age. When he wasn’t competing in
contests around the world, he was on his way to one. He was busier than most
adults in their circle, and he'd often work himself to the brink of exhaustion,
running fevers as high as a hundred and four degrees. Michael sometimes
couldn’t bear to watch Martha push him so hard, but perhaps it was her methods
that shaped the man he is today.”
Max's childhood had always been shadowed by Martha's presence. Now that
Martha was using her own life as a bargaining chip, it was naturally distressing
for him.
Wesley watched Brielle fall into contemplation and instructed the kitchen to
prepare a light. soothing soup. “Ms. Brielle, you should rest after you finish your
soup.”
Brielle couldn't refuse. After sipping the warm broth, she washed up and settled
into bed. Just as sleep was about to claim her, Wesley's words echoed in her
mind, and she couldn't resist. She reached for her phone and shot Max a
message.
[Is the meeting over yet?]
(Yeah, just wrapping up some data with Patrick.]
[Could you send me a picture of yourself?]
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Max froze as he read the message, a
flush of warmth creeping up his ears.
He rarely took photos, to the point of
almost never. He had reused an old
photograph for an interview with a
leading international newspaper
abroad. Being in front of a camera
made him uncomfortable. unsure of
what expression to wear. The
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However, without hesitation, he handed his phone to Patrick.
“Patrick.”
At the sound of his name, Patrick, engrossed in data, thought something was
amiss and looked up in alarm.
“Snap a photo for me.”
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Si i: 5
Patrick's grip faltered, his pen
streaking an unintended line across
the paper. He gaped in disbelief,
half—convinced he was hallucinating.
ux: yn :

Sir?” The content is on

popsnovel.com! Read the latest
chapter there!
Visit popsnovel.com to read full content.

)
Max's face was a mask of calm, but
under the brilliant overhead lights, the
sharpness of his features seemed to

“ . . ”

soften. “I said, take a picture of me.
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