Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

She tossed her phone aside and flopped onto the bed with a sigh. Sleep, however, was nowhere in sight. Tonight, she owed Dustin a big one; he had given her a crucial lead.

As Brielle's mind wandered through the memories of Mark, she realized the signs had always been there. Mark had been involved in all her DNA tests. During her first test with the Haywood family, Mark was right there. The second time, with the Fox family, it was Mark who delivered the results. Having been by her side for so many years, she never doubted him. But what if the Mark she met at the orphanage wasn't Mark at all? What if someone had taken over his identity? The real Mark and his wife had been locked away in a hidden room behind the archives and had perished in the fire.

An unemployed, divorced man with no ties, living on the outskirts in an orphanage, made it all too easy for someone to step into his shoes. But why? What was this imposter's motive? Just to watch her grow up?

Brielle clenched the sheets tightly as the memories from the orphanage flashed vividly-shared hardships, knitting gloves and scarves together. So when the clues pointed to Mark, the pain was unbearable. When she was hungry, Mark encouraged her. When strangers hurled insults and fists, Mark protected her. But now, reality told her it was all an act.

A bitter smile crossed her face as her heart ached with the sting of betrayal. Even his faked death was designed to leave her drowning in guilt. How much must he have hated her? One grand performance, and she had given him her whole heart, as if her entire life was a cruel joke.

A pounding headache forced Brielle to reach for painkillers from her nightstand before she finally drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, a message from Max jolted her awake. The man who had fallen with her had woken up and was now her responsibility-and he was in the same hospital as her. The hospital had ensured secrecy, so even if she visited, no evidence would be left behind.

Last night, Patrick had told her that

Pearl Estate was bristling with surveillance cameras, thanks to Michael. The Barnes family incident had put Michael on high alert, and he would likely be monitoring her and Max's every move for a while. Any misstep would mean danger for those close to her. Michael wouldn't dare touch Max; he'd always go for the easy target.

Brielle steered her car toward the hospital. Murray had been at death's door but had miraculously survived. However Annie's blade had slashed his vocat cords, leaving him mute, possibly for life. He sat up in bed, his pupils shrinking and lips tightening

When Brielle walked in.

As she drew closer, she noticed the bandages around his chest. The gunshot wound was her doing, but she couldn't recall slicing his neck as the doctors had described. "I'm Brielle. You remember me, right?" she asked.

Murray remained silent, his gaze cold and distant.

She sat down, taking her time. "The cut on your neck wasn't from me. The doctors said it was a dagger. So, after I shot you, someone else stabbed you. Who was it?"

The moment she finished speaking, Murray's hands clenched the blanket, knuckles white and veins bulging. His breathing grew ragged, and he bit his lip hard.

Brielle was about to push him further when she saw tears welling in his eyes, blood trickling down from his bitten lip. It was like watching a caged beast, limbs broken, struggling in silent fury, expressing its sorrow with tears and blood.NôvelDrama.Org owns this.

When someone's emotions are laid

bare, the message is often overwhelming. In his face, Brielle saw deep resentment and sorrow, as if his neck had been slashed by someone he loved. No, it wasn't just a resemblance-it had to be the truth. A woman had cut his throat, and not just any woman, But the one he loved.