Chapter 560

Brielle clutched at her stomach, wincing. “Ugh, it hurts. Don’t mind me, just go.”

Max’s body tensed, a mix of frustration and helplessness washing over him. He closed his eyes, taking a moment to quell the anger, before resuming his seat at the edge of her bed. His hand reached out, resting gently on her abdomen, and he started to rub softly. “Does this help a bit?”

Brielle, whose spirits had already lifted, wasn’t in as much discomfort as she let on. She had exaggerated a bit for effect, but now she quickly seized the chance to praise him. “So much better.

You’re more useful than a doctor.”

She sneaked a glance at his face, noting the stormy expression hadn’t quite cleared, and pressed on.

“Max, you’re such a sweetheart. I thought you’d left, but you were actually getting medicine for me.

You’re so good to me. I’ll work hard, and when I’m richer than you, I’ll take care of you. All the money will be yours–I’ll keep just enough for my expenses.”

Max’s hand paused, a flicker of reaction in his eyes. Brielle hadn’t realized it, but she had inadvertently addressed the issue of the million dollars. She’d only set aside a million for others, but for him, she was willing to leave almost everything. Max’s expression softened noticeably. He found her flattery quite charming.

Brielle kept a covert watch on his face, and seeing the dark cloud lift, she breathed easier and shifted slightly, pushing her luck a bit. “And my back, could you…?”

His fingers trailed to her lower back, sending a shiver through her. Lying there, she looked up at his face, her lips curving into a smile. “Still mad at me?”

Max looked down, his hands gentle despite his stubborn tone.

“You saw some marks on me and acted like the sky was falling. But when someone else holds you, I’m not supposed to be mad? Brielle, don’t be so hypocritical.”

Brielle reached out from under the covers, tugging at his suit sleeve. “It’s my fault. I didn’t expect him to pounce. I’ll be more alert next time.”

The issues with the orphanage and that rosary still stung like a thorn in Max’s heart.

Brielle placed her hand over his, their fingers interlocking. “No one compares to you.”

It sounded like something a player would say. Yet, these simple words pleased him. He suppressed the faint bitterness in his heart, his gaze detached. “The scarf.”

He’d been promised a scarf for Christmas, and it was still only half–done.

Realizing what he meant, Brielle scrambled to get out of bed. “I’ll knit it now. Even if it kills me, I’ll finish your scarf. Max, you better not stop me.”

Amusement flickered in Max’s eyes, and he decided not to dwell on the matter. He wrapped an arm around her waist, gently pushing her back onto the bed. “Rest if you’re in pain. No need to 15:55 fuss right now.”

Brielle glanced at his face again, reassured by the smile in his eyes, and settled back comfortably.

“Once I’m better, knitting that scarf will be my top priority.”

When Brielle wanted to charm someone, she was effortlessly effective. Max didn’t want to admit how easily he was manipulated by her simple stratagems.

There was a knock at the door, and Wesley came in with a tray of chicken soup and oatmeal. “Ms.

Brielle, are you feeling any better? We saved some dinner for you, and it’s been kept warm. Mr. Dorsey didn’t eat either. He was waiting for you.”

Brielle felt a pang of guilt. “Wesley, I’m sorry for the trouble. I’ve kept you all up to cook so late.” Wesley set the tray down on a nearby cabinet, his tone deeply meaningful. “You still should’ve called, you know. Mr. Dorsey’s stomach isn’t great either; if he keeps this up, he’ll have an attack himself.”

“I’m sorry, my phone died on me. Right after the call from the orphanage, it just went off.”

Knowing Max hadn’t eaten either, Brielle felt even more concerned. She propped herself up and began to stir the oatmeal. “Let’s eat together.”

Max shook his head. “I’m already full from anger.”