Chapter 576

Max’s gaze was cast downward. His pale lips were pursed lightly, and his features were seemingly gentle yet edged with a sharp chill.

Ever since his earliest memories, his mother had been strict with him, a level of strictness that would have seemed almost twisted in other households of Beaconsfield. But it was in his nature not to be bothered by it, and he never held any resentment towards Martha.

Martha had utterly neglected her daughter Victoria, leaving Victoria to her own devices to the point that she hadn’t once asked for Victoria to visit her at the sanatorium throughout the years.

Victoria had indeed never visited.

Martha cared about whether Max could secure his place as the heir and Max himself. So, what had devastated her back then must have been related to either of these concerns.

When his father had pushed him into the heir’s position at the age of ten, Martha’s health began to decline, and Max wondered what hidden turmoil had beset her.

Outsiders speculated that Michael was too ruthless, intentionally sending Max, the youngest son, to his doom and causing Martha to collapse under the strain.

Max knew the truth was not so simple. He had people investigate covertly, but they unearthed nothing.

“Max, if you have the time, try to visit more often,” the doctor said after discussing the new medication’s side effects and the urgency of stabilizing Martha’s mood to avoid negating all previous efforts.

Max stood looking cold and melancholic and nodded slowly after hearing the words.

Once the doctor had left, Brielle glanced through the window at Martha, who had finally calmed down and was lying in bed, attended to by several caregivers.

Brielle was curious if Alivia’s weekly visits exacerbated Martha’s condition, wondering if the news Alivia brought was part of the cause. Alivia had previously pinned the blame for a lost child on Martha, and if stirring trouble between her and Max served Alivia’s purpose, she would do it.

Brielle also knew that telling Max about Alivia’s potential manipulations wouldn’t convince him right away. After all, Alivia had cared for Martha for many years, dutifully, even from abroad. If she intended to cause harm, she would have done so long ago.

Max was aware of some of Alivia’s true colors, but he likely never harbored a doubt regarding Martha.

Moreover, Martha had once told Brielle that if she and Max ended up together, Martha would rather die.

She tried to control Max’s life, first by wanting him to become the Dorsey family’s heir and then by hoping he’d marry a woman the Dorsey family approved of.

10:39 Max opened a door and stepped inside. Martha was just coming to, and upon seeing him, her mood became agitated. “What are you doing here?! I’d be better off dead than seeing you!”

“Mother,”

Max called out, only to have Martha throw a bedside cup at him in rage. “Why did you tell me over the phone that you’re with Brielle? You clearly don’t care about me at all, so there’s no need for you to be here. Get out!”

The cup shattered against the doorframe, and the fragments scattered like shrapnel, a sound like the beginning of war.

“Mother, you must take care of yourself.”

“Ha! As long as that bitch is on this earth, I’ll never have peace.”

Max’s expression remained serene, like the cold light of a winter’s day. He approached and sat down slowly by the bed. “I’d prefer you didn’t speak of Brielle in such a way.”

Martha’s face twisted into a sneer, her gaze drifting out the window to catch a glimpse of Brielle’s figure. She scoffed, “Oh? That lowly hussy seduced you. If she’s not a tramp, what is she? Keep her away from me. She makes me sick!”

“What would you have me do, Mother?”

“Break up with her!”

“That’s not possible.” Max’s reply was immediate and unwavering.

Martha’s gaze darkened, her laugh cold. “Then I might as well die.”