Master of his heart (Max and Brielle)

"Max, I'm not leaving."

Max stood there, one hand bracing against the beam, his suit now covered in dust.

"Brielle, please, listen to me."

He reached out with his other hand, gently touching her cheek.

"I'm so sorry about the baby. That's on me."

"If I can't be with you, I just want you to have a safe and peaceful life."

Tears blurred Brielle's vision; she could barely see what was in front of her.

Andrew stepped forward and swept her up in a firm embrace, not looking back as he left. "No!!"

Brielle reached out for Max, but only managed to brush the tips of his fingers.

His fingers slipped through her grasp, and his figure grew smaller and smaller in the chaos.

"No."

Brielle cried out, but no sound came.

The explosions continued, but all she heard was the sound of her world falling apart.

She had dreamed of celebrating their love in front of everyone, exchanging rings, her white wedding dress gleaming.

They would look into each other's eyes, not caring about the whispers around them.

She had dreamed so many beautiful, splendid, happy dreams.

But she never imagined the dream would end like this.

A heart full of love turned into a tale of folly and moonlight.

Brielle thought she would find happiness, that her heart would finally heal, but it seemed like fate was always mocking her. Mocking her for burning too brightly, like a firefly.

A month later, in the hospital.

Early summer had arrived, and the madness of that night seemed a distant memory.

The sun streamed through the window, casting golden shadows on the blanket.

Brielle's forehead was sweaty; someone beside her took a handkerchief and wiped it away.

A man asked the doctor, "When will she wake up?"

"Probably this afternoon," the doctor replied.

The man nodded.

After the doctor left, the room was still filled with somber faces.

Aubree had woken up three days after the incident, and Andrew, with minor injuries, was already recovering.

But Brielle was still trapped in her nightmare, unwilling to wake up.

In her sleep, she had miscarried; the baby was gone.

They had feared the baby might not survive, but never imagined it would happen so cruelly.

No one knew how the fire started or why there was an explosion.

Aside from Brielle and Aubree, no one made it out alive.

The fire had been strange, the explosion sudden and without warning.

The room's atmosphere was heavy. Even though Brielle was about to wake up, no one could feel happy.

Could she handle all this trauma?

She had lost her baby.

She had lost Max.

Standing by the bed was Dustin, who had been caring for her tirelessly for a month, juggling Lynch family matters while staying in Beaconsfield.

His face was grim. When he first heard from Beaconsfield that Brielle

was he had flown belongs to erom

North America i

He had wanted to confront Max, but learned that Max had died in the fire trying to save Brielle.

Dustin had people search the area, uncovering many charred bodies, some reduced to ashes, unrecognizable.

The explosion had sparked a wildfire, leaving little of the mountain, and the mansion at its center was gone.

To avoid suspicion from the

authorities, it was reported as a

lightning-induced wildfire. Only a few

powerful families were trying to

understand why the mansion

exploded.

In reality, the truth no longer mattered. Those who were gone would never return.

Dustin took the handkerchief and continued to wipe Brielle's sweat.

Her eyelashes trembled, her lips cracked, showing the red beneath.

Dustin held her hand, his heart aching.

Everyone in the room knew now that Brielle was the long-lost princess of the Lynch family.

Over the past month, their emotions had finally settled.