Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Brielle sat in the chair, her bare feet still bleeding, her toes tensed as if immune to the pain. She didn’t look at the man confronting her. “The stolen suit belongs to Max Dorsey, the CEO of Dorsey International. Don’t believe me? Call him now. And here’s my business card.”

She handed over a sleek card that confirmed her identity: Director of Mergers and Acquisitions at Dorsey International.

“The USB drive in the suit pocket is related to a massive merger we’ve been negotiating, valued at over ten billion dollars. The drive is missing. Who’s going to answer for Dorsey International’s loss?”

Her voice was calm, her lashes lowered as if in thought, “This man has been manipulated. You might want to check the recent transactions in his accounts. Someone’s using him to snatch Dorsey International’s trade secrets. I don’t need to tell you how grave this is, do I?”

Dorsey International. Trade secrets. CEO of Dorsey International. Each term was a siren call to urgency. This was no lovers‘ quarrel to be brushed off.

The man was taken aback, his cavalier demeanor vanishing instantly. “Brielle, what are you implying? When did I rob anyone? And when did I take a USB drive? Stop slinging mud!”

Brielle remained composed, the pain in her soles sharpening her mind. “Are you claiming the suit is yours? It’s a high–end custom piece, each with a unique serial number and owner. If the officer doubts my word, you can verify the brand and trace its origin.”

The man panicked. He had only grabbed the suit on a whim, never imagining it held a story.

Brielle’s presence was overwhelming, swiftly commanding the situation. “I intend to uncover whoever’s behind him, endangering Dorsey International.”

A potential billion–dollar trade secret theft could be dubbed the case of the year. Investigators were already tracking the man’s financial activities and found an unexplained deposit of a million dollars in his account just hours earlier. The evidence was damning.

The man’s palms sweated as he clenched his jaw. Stealing trade secrets, with over ten billion dollars at stake- that kind of accusation could mean a minimum of ten years in prison.

Brielle was out to ruin him and, by the looks of it, take down whoever was behind him as well.

She seemed so harmless, yet how quickly her venomous plan had unfolded!

The police had already escalated the situation to their superiors and had managed to get in touch with Patrick. Patrick glanced at Max, who was resting his eyes, and spoke softly, “The suit? Yes, it was indeed for Ms. Brielle. The USB drive?”

Confusion flickered in his eyes. He had no idea what might be in the CEO’s suit pocket and quickly asked with respect, “Sir, it’s a call from the police station.”

They were en route to a business trip, about to leave Beaconsfield. Max took the phone, his gaze icy. The person on the other end, realizing they were speaking to Max himself, hastily explained the situation, wiping sweat from their forehead.

“Mr. Dorsey, that’s the situation. If he’s indeed guilty of stealing Dorsey International’s trade secrets, the repercussions will be dire. Even with someone to vouch for him, I’m afraid…”

Max’s wrist dropped, the black beads around it seemingly radiating a chill. “And her?”

The officer glanced at Brielle, saying cautiously, “Ms. Brielle is still here. It isn’t her fault, and we’ll recover the USB drive as soon as possible.”

He was defending Brielle. Even if the loss wasn’t intentional, the drive was still missing. If Dorsey International sought accountability, not only would the thief face jail time, but Brielle herself would surely be implicated.

15:07

“Hand her the phone.” His tone was indifferent, the cold seemingly traveling through the phone line.

Brielle, head lowered, knew they were speaking with Max himself. The thought of reaching out to him in her moment of helplessness made her smile involuntarily.

She was fortunate not to have gone to him. That foolish yearning was best buried deep, never to see the ligh of day. NôvelDrama.Org owns all content.

“Ms. Brielle, Mr. Dorsey would