Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Annie was still trying to piece together what had just happened.

It all started this morning as she strolled into the Dorsey Tower lobby, where Patrick flagged her down, saying they had a meeting to attend. She didn't think much of it. But the moment she slid into the car, she felt a heavy blow against her back, and everything went black. Before passing out, Annie didn't even realize her cover had been blown.

She woke up at half-past eleven, the sun beaming outside.

Seeing the gun pointed at her forehead, she lifted an eyebrow and flashed a bright smile.

"What's the deal, bro?" she quipped, utterly unruffled.

Max wasn't there, but Annie wasn't naive; she knew this had his blessing.

"Good luck explaining to my godfather if you kill me," she added with a smirk, her face a picture of calm amusement.

The man in front of her, dressed in a uniform, wordlessly handed her passport and credentials.

Annie shrugged indifferently until a screen popped up, showing Murray, pale and fragile, lying in a hospital bed.

Her smile faded, and she blinked in disbelief.

She had assumed Murray's body was likely picked clean by animals in some ravine, never expecting him to be alive.

"Annie, you recognize him, don't you?" came Brielle's voice.

Annie narrowed her eyes. So that's why they bolted so quickly last night-they had figured out her angle.

Her lips twisted into a slight smile.

"Now that you mention it, I do recall a certain mutt I thought was dead. Turns out he's still kicking."

Her tone was light, as if she barely regarded Murray as human.

But through the screen, Murray looked at her with longing, resentment, and obsession. Despite everything, if Annie called, he'd come running, tail wagging. Because a dog never holds a grudge.

You can abandon it miles away, cripple it, and it'll still wonder what it did wrong.

Annie noticed his gaze and felt something stir inside her.

How strange, she thought, that someone would lay it all on the line for another person.

It didn't matter if you were a man or a woman; once you loved, once you submitted, you granted them the power to hurt you.

Annie couldn't fathom it, yet she couldn't deny the peculiar joy bubbling inside her at the sight of Murray still alive.

She looked at him, falling silent.

After a long pause, she leaned back, gazing at the screen with cool detachment.

"Brielle, I don't know how you figured out my real agenda, but credit where it's due you're sharp. However, thinking you can use a discarded mutt to corner me? That's where you're dead wrong." NovelDrama.Org

She would never go soft for Murray.

As her words hung in the air, a woman appeared on the screen.

Clearly one of Brielle's pawns, she walked up to Murray, sat on the edge of the bed, and leaned in to kiss him.

The smile on Annie's face turned to ice, her innocence replaced by a fierce intensity.

This was her true self, unmasked.

Murray, trying to push the woman away, found her clinging to his neck with practiced ease, making his efforts futile.

Humans have this nasty habit: it's

one thing to throw away your owetNôvelDrama.Org holds this content.

stuff, but seeing someone else take it is a whole other story.

belongs to en.kikistori

That's why people hoard useless trinkets, just to keep them from others.

Annie had

in

Brielle's tricks before

beto

therers in Beaconsfield, b

right now, she couldn't help but mutter, "Bitch!"