Chapter 92

Brielle felt the top button of her blouse choking her and raised her hand to unfasten it, but Max caught her wrist, “Or maybe try a different outfit.”

A smirk played at the corners of Brielle’s mouth; his possessiveness was baffling at times.

She turned and grabbed a light turtleneck sweater from her closet, not showing any sign of bashfulness as she stripped off the one she was wearing. After changing, she twirled in front of him, “Is this better?”

Max averted his gaze, his naturally long lashes casting a shadow, “Barely.”

Rolling her eyes inwardly, Brielle walked towards the living room, making sure to grab her cane.

She shut the bedroom door behind her with a soft click.

Sophia and Emily had been waiting impatiently outside the door, their hands raised to knock again when it swung open.

Brielle hadn’t expected them. She arched an eyebrow lightly, then offered a cool smile, “Make yourselves at home. Don’t be shy.”

Sophia had initially intended to directly give Brielle a piece of her mind, but upon encountering Brielle’s smile, it felt like punching into cotton, losing the intended impact. She glanced around the modest room, which in comparison to her luxurious villa, could only be described as humble.

Emily, standing next to her, struggled to mask her resentment towards Brielle.

Brielle turned away with a measured pace and settled on the couch, placing her cane beside her, “Come in, don’t just stand there at the door.”

Fuming, Emily stormed in, “Brielle, don’t get so smug.”

Brielle glanced at the table, where Max’s glass of water had long gone cold. She picked it up and took a sip. “I just have a few questions, and after that, you can start apologizing.”

She set the glass down and found a comfortable position, eyes fixed on the two visitors. “Who’s the accomplice and who’s the mastermind?”

Emily’s hand clenched at her side, itching to throw the fruit from the table at Brielle’s face. This despicable bitch was ignoring her!

Brielle’s casual demeanor only aggravated Emily further.

Noticing the thick bandages on Brielle’s leg, Emily moved forward, aiming to stomp on her foot. But Brielle was quick to dodge, retracting her foot and splashing the water towards Emily.

Emily’s hair got drenched, and she almost screamed as she lunged at Brielle.

Sophia intervened, grabbing Emily’s arm with impatience. “Andrew sent us to apologize. If you don’t play along, he’ll throw me back to the police station. Emily, I don’t care what beef you have with Brielle, but if you don’t help me wrap this up, I’ll never let you off the hook.”

Sophia had more sense than Emily’s twisted rage. She shot a disdainful look at Brielle, planning her revenge for after this was all over, but for now, she couldn’t act on impulse, not with Andrew’s intolerance for disobedience.

Taking a deep breath, Sophia said, “I don’t know you well, and it was Emily who detests you. I just hired that thug, gave him a million to trouble you. Sadly, he messed up and let you get away.”

Sophia had seen Brielle before but only from a distance. Now, up close, she realized how stunning Brielle was.

With a light laugh, Brielle put the empty glass down, “Why does Emily hate me?”

Whether at the company or now, Emily’s malice was obvious. Yet Brielle had never had any dealings with her.

Sophia snorted, her gaze filled with contempt, “There’s no one in our group chat who doesn’t despise you. We’re well aware of all your misdeeds. And as if having Spencer wasn’t enough, you had to go after other men, and even tried to seduce Max. Emily has been pining for Max for ages, how do you think she feels?”

So, it was Max’s troublesome admirer.

Brielle raised an eyebrow, noting another keyword–group chat.

Tiffanie had told her about the group chats of socialites in Beaconsfield, and in Lillian’s circle, almost everyone looked down on her. It was all thanks to Lillian playing the victim, ruining Brielle’s reputation.

Brielle found it amusing, though they weren’t entirely wrong–she had indeed seduced Max. She turned to Emily, who still looked at her with venomous eyes, as if ready to tear her apart.

Brielle’s lips curved slightly, “So, you came to Dorsey International all for Mr. Dorsey? Well, congratulations, you’re fired from the M&A department.”

Emily’s face froze, her eyes widening in disbelief, “What did you say? Say that again!”

“You’re fired, for trying to frame your own supervisor over a personal vendetta. Isn’t that reason enough?”