Chapter 150

Max would never refuse. With a swift move, he scooped her up horizontally and carried her into the bedroom.

The apartment was decorated with a cozy touch, and a long, lingering ship’s horn echoed from outside the window. The diligent vendors had already begun to set up shop on the streets, and the savory scent of pancakes filled the city air.

Everything was so idyllic, but they both knew that the intimacy between them was nothing more than a sham, a shadow play of pretense.

Brielle closed her eyes, her rational mind advising her a thousand times over, but the pleasure seeping from her very bones was undeniable. Her cheeks were flushed with sweat, as if all acts of rebellion had blossomed into bewitching flowers of allure.

Max had control over her, and as he watched her sleeping face, he suddenly wondered what he would do if she had just said she wanted to end things. In that moment, the surging bitterness was undeniable. It was unclear whether it was a man’s pride at play or the inability to withstand being kicked to the curb.

“Brielle?” he called out.

She was too exhausted to move even a finger and responded with a groggy “Hmm?”

“It ends when I say it ends.”

Brielle had no idea what he was talking about. She was sound asleep.

When morning came, Brielle felt sore all over. She turned over, squinting as the sunlight streamed in, stinging her eyes. It was indeed her own apartment.

She recalled the events from last night, and at this moment, it felt like she was still in a dream. She got up, still in her pajamas, and nearly collapsed to her knees.

Her complexion changed, her lips trembled, and she ended up leaning against the wall, gasping for air.

Just how long had Max kept her up last night?

Stepping out of the bedroom, she saw the man still sitting on the couch and wondered if it was the weekend. It was only Wednesday, and he, being a workaholic, should have been at the office.

“Mr. Dorsey,” she called out, then sat down on a single–seater sofa. “I’m taking the day off.

Occupational hazard.”

The reason for the ‘hazard‘ was something he was well aware of.

“Mhm.”

He didn’t look up, flipping through the documents in his hand, probably delivered by Patrick earlier that morning.

17:02 Brielle’s neck was also sore, and just as she reached up to rub it, the doorbell rang. She glanced instinctively at Max.

Max continued to peruse his documents, engrossed, unbothered by the interruption.

Brielle walked to the door and, upon seeing Aubree, she pressed her lips together, guiltily touching her neck. She went back to the bedroom to change into a turtleneck, then returned to open the door.

Aubree looked unusually anxious, her gaze shifting past Brielle to the man on the sofa, her expression turning complex. Brielle also felt a tinge of guilt as she closed the door, “What’s happened to bring you over so early?”

*You call this early?” Aubree pointed to the clock on the wall–it was already noon.

Brielle didn’t know what to say, trying to brush it off, but then she saw Aubree approach Max, “Well, look at you with a beautiful girl by your side, and you don’t bother to come to the company.”

Brielle’s face reddened with embarrassment, and she quickly tugged at Aubree’s wrist.

Aubree sat down, clearly frustrated, “Did you see the message I sent? The Haywood family has announced they’re acknowledging Lillian as their own, claiming you’ve been stealing Lillian’s identity for years. What’s going on? Is Lillian really their daughter? Was there a mix–up before?” Aubree couldn’t believe it and, remembering how smug Lillian must be feeling, she felt extremely unsettled.

“Yes, there was a mix–up. We did another paternity test, and she’s the real Haywood daughter.” Brielle spoke without any inflection, even contemplating whether to order some takeout.

Aubree sighed, “The rumors are wild out there. They’re saying you’re cunning, that you knew how to tamper with the results at a young age, and that all the good times you’ve had these years were stolen.

They want you to apologize to Lillian.”

Aubree’s face was filled with disgust. “The Haywood family is throwing a party for Lillian tomorrow night, officially announcing the news.”

Brielle pursed her lips, not expecting a single scandalous video to.stir up so much trouble.

Apologize to Lillian? In her dreams.

The Haywoods had made the mistake themselves. She was just a ten–year–old child then, so why should she bear the burden of their error?

After some thought, she transferred ten million to Miranda’s account. The amount the Haywoods had spent on her over the years was certainly not that much, and she thoughtfully included the interest as well.

As soon as she made the transfer, Miranda’s call came through.

“Bri, what’s this all about?”