Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Brielle felt a strange chill as she walked back to the castle that evening. It was weirdly quiet, especially after the recent influx of staff. It was already 10 p.m., and the whole place seemed asleep, not a light on in the living room. When she entered the living room, she was startled to find someone sitting in the dark on the couch, like they'd been there for ages. Flicking on the light, she saw King, deep in thought.

"Why are you sitting in the dark?" she asked, bending down to change her shoes. But before she could, King grabbed her, lifting her onto the entryway cabinet. Brielle's face darkened as she realized what he was about to do. "This is the living room! People live here. The butler, Isaac... What if someone sees?" she protested, but her words were smothered by his kisses, leaving her breathless and furious.Property © NôvelDrama.Org.

Ignoring her, King began to undress her, but Brielle, fueled by anger, broke free and slapped him hard across the face.

He turned his head slightly, touching his cheek, his long lashes casting shadows on his face. The room fell into an uneasy silence.

Brielle's heart ached at the sight of him. "I..."

The slap had left a visible mark, his face swelling with the imprint of her fingers. She jumped down from the cabinet, concerned. "I'll get the first aid kit."

But King just stood there, not looking at her, and walked out the door.

"King!" Brielle called after him, clutching her clothes around her and trying to follow, but he was already out of reach.

"King!" She called again, but he didn't stop.

Left standing alone, Brielle felt a mix of exhaustion, sleepiness, and anger. Taking a deep breath, she couldn't help but blurt out, "If you leave, don't bother coming back."

At this, King paused, turning to look at her quietly before responding, "If I don't come back, then I don't come back."

Now, it was Brielle who was rooted to the spot.

"Daddy?" A small voice came from the balcony.

Isaac had witnessed their argument. King, however, focused on his child, instructing, "Come downstairs."

Isaac, unaware of the situation but sensing the tension, obediently came down with Noir.

Brielle felt choked up, unable to speak.

King, holding Isaac close, told Brielle, "You don't want to see me anyway. I'm heading back to Saudi Arabia. I won't come back."

With that, he got into the car, which sped off into the night.

King hugged Isaac tighter,

contemplating before instructing the driver to stop a few hundred meters away from the castle, hoping Brielle might come out. But after half an hour of waiting in vain, he felt a deep sense of rejection.

"We're going back to Saudi," he said to Isaac, who nodded, supporting his father's decision.

Brielle stood immobilized by a heavy heart and legs that refused to move, her entire being aching with a mixture of cold and numbness. Eventually, she made her way back inside the castle, which felt emptier than ever.

After a restless night filled with hunger and insomnia, Brielle was woken by a knock on her door. It was Dustin.

"Little Falcon?" Dustin called out, concerned at her pallor.

Brielle managed to get up, her body weak.

Seeing her condition, Dustin frowned. "You look awful. Tried calling you, but got no answer. The butler said you were sleeping. Where's your phone? Lost it?"

"I lost it, brother. I'm sorry," Brielle's voice was hoarse, her illness evident.

Dustin touched her forehead,

concerned. "You've got a fever.

Didn't you notice? And where's King?

Usually, you two are inseparable.

Where is he when you need him?"