Chapter 254

She gazed at the takeout she had carefully packed, a hint of self–mockery tinging her thoughts.. Taking a deep breath to compose herself, she opened the door. “Mr. Dorsey, I heard you were in the hospital.

Feeling better?”

Neither of the two in the room expected her visit. Max’s grip on his paperwork tightened, the slight sense of grievance he had vanishing instantly. He looked up at Brielle.

With a warm smile, Brielle placed the takeout on the bedside table.

Patrick, sensing the moment, discreetly exited, closing the door behind him, leaving them to their privacy.

Max didn’t speak, and Brielle began unpacking the food. “Have you had lunch? I brought some. things from the hotel. Care for a bite?”

The dishes were all light and bland, perfect for someone recovering from illness.

Max stayed silent, eyes fixed on the documents, though he wasn’t really reading them.

Brielle scooped up a spoonful of soup, bringing it to his lips, only to hear him ask, “Weren’t you supposed to be at home? Why the hotel?”

Brielle realized she had misspoken. The food was obviously from that particular hotel’s menu. and Max, with his own suite there, would surely know where she got it. Lies were bound to unravel.

“I-” Brielle struggled to find an excuse. Should she divulge the whole kidnapping Spencer affair? But Max was a Dorsey, after all. He wouldn’t tak her side.

“I had some business at the hotel.”

Max remained silent, his gaze unsettling her, turning her normally confident demeanor into a display of discomfort.

He closed his eyes, and after a while, he chuckled softly. “Brielle, let’s end this charade.”

Brielle’s grip on the spoon tightened, her throat constricting as if choked, unable to speak.

To mask the hurt, she pretended to stir the soup, her eyes reddening, striving to keep her voice steady.

“Alright.”

No plea, no pain, just a calm affirmation.

Max felt a surge of frustration. Her seemingly indifference hurt him in ways he couldn’t describe. He held back before finally saying, “You can go now.”

Brielle slowly set down the bowl and stood up with difficulty.

A myriad of needles seemed to prick at her heart. She admitted to a fondness for Max but was far from love. It was a mistake from the start, and perhaps it was for the best that it ended.

She turned swiftly, and as she reached the door, her throat tightened. Upon opening it, she saw Patrick sitting outside in the hallway.

Patrick, taken aback by her tear–rimmed eyes, stuttered, “Ms. Brielle, are you-”

Brielle didn’t answer, just shook her head and hurried to the elevator.

Patrick stood frozen. Was it an illusion? He thought he saw Ms. Brielle crying. Did they have a fight?

But he didn’t hear any arguing.

In the room, Patrick saw Max toss the documents aside in irritation. This was the first time. Patrick had seen Max acting so petulant. “Sir, it seems like Ms. Brielle has cried.”

Max’s hand froze, discomfort evident.

Brielle crying? Was it possible? She seemed so composed.

Noticing the still–warm meal Brielle had brought, Patrick assumed it wasn’t to Max’s liking. “Shall I have the chef bring something else? What would you like?”

Max looked down, his voice husky. “No need.”

He picked up the bowl and ate a spoonful. It was indeed from the hotel. So, she hadn’t gone home last night and spent it with Spencer at the hotel?

As he took a second bite, he pondered whether his earlier words had been too harsh.

By the third, he was feeling regret. “You said Brielle was crying?”