Chapter 91
“Ugh, Andrew just bailed me out of the police station, and he was like, ‘you can’t just brush this off. I mean, isn’t Brielle just an employee at Dorsey International? Why does he have to go this far?”
Tessa’s breath grew heavier, and she couldn’t help but cough violently a few times. She was growing more and more disgusted with her frail body. On most days, she could only rely on medication to keep going, and the slightest agitation was off–limits. Just hearing this news had already caused beads of sweat to form on her forehead.
“Should I go?” Sophia asked, testing the waters with her question, though deep down she had zero desire to go, especially since it meant seeing Emily. Just the thought that she had gotten into this mess because of Emily made her blood boil.
“If he said so, then just do it,” Tessa replied, knowing Andrew’s intentions all too well. “There’s no way he’d have anything to do with Brielle.”
“I trust Andrew, but I’ve heard Brielle is quite the loose cannon.”
Tessa took a deep breath, a sharp look crossing her eyes. “Sophia, keep an eye out for me while you’re out there. If you see Brielle getting too close to Andrew, give me a call.”
Sophia’s lips curled into a wry smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on Andrew for you.”
After hanging up, Sophia shot a message to Emily. Emily had been living in a state of constant anxiety, and though she heard the issue had been resolved, she was now told she needed to apologize to Brielle, which instantly made her feel nauseous. [I’m not going, why should I grovel to that tramp Brielle.]
Reading Emily’s response, a sneer crossed Sophia’s face. [I’ve got Brielle’s address from Lillian. Andrew said we have to apologize in
person. If you don’t show, you’re on your own.]
Knowing who Andrew was, Emily felt a wave of intimidation wash over her, but at the same time, she was seething. Why would Andrew side
with Brielle?
Could it be that Brielle didn’t just hook Max but was also stringing Andrew along?
Fuming with malice, Emily’s scalp tingled at the thought. An apology? Fine, she had a belly full of fire that needed venting anyway.
Half an hour later, the two women arrived punctually at Brielle’s apartment door.
Sophia knocked without courtesy and then crossed her arms, ready to confront her adversary. She glanced sideways at Emily, her expression
colder than ice.
“Using me as your pawn, Emily, you’ve really outdone yourself. After this mess, we’re done. I can’t afford a ‘friend‘ like you.”
Emily knew she would be humiliated. “How was I to know Brielle was so cunning, coming up with a story about a ten–billion–dollar business secret?”
And how could those six or seven men not handle one woman, letting Brielle slip away? What garbage help had Sophia enlisted.
Emily kept her composure, but inside she was railing against Sophia’s
unreliable choices.
Both outsiders in their own families, they’d grown up in luxury and now could hardly stand the sight of each other.
Sophia felt jinxed and banged on the door again. Inside the bedroom, Brielle was awakened by the heat.
The evening sun poured through the window, casting an orange glow on the bedspread. By the window, a man in a simple robe was working on
company emails using her laptop, his profile shadowed, his hair kissed by the fading light.
Brielle couldn’t help but linger her gaze on him, not for the first time seeing Max like this, but his face never failed to dazzle her.
He sat by the window, the breeze carrying his bracing scent. From noon till dusk, he had been busy for five hours and still had the energy to work.
Brielle rubbed her sore back, thinking she had brought it upon herself.
The knocking continued from the living room. Spencer again?
She casually threw on a robe and strolled to the window, leaving a kiss on his lips. “Bear with me, Uncle Max. Hide out in the bedroom for a bit.
I’ve got someone to meet.”
Max paused, his gaze falling on her neck. The marks from before hadn’t faded, now joined by new ones. The thought of a man outside made his brow crease, and he began fastening her buttons, one by one, up to the very top – still not satisfied.
“Wear a scarf.”
