Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Desiree held onto a lace handkerchief, looking a bit under the weather. Despite this, she shook her head and managed a faint smile at Annie.

Annie kept one hand behind her back, gripping a dagger, her face showing nothing but innocent cheerfulness.

"Make sure you rest up, dear. Godfather's been swamped with his new project and hasn't had the chance to visit, but you're not holding it against him, are you?" Desiree's voice was weak but carried a touch of elegance. "He's got a lot on his plate too."

Annie lowered her lashes. "I'll check what the kitchen cooked up today."

"Sasha, I'd like to be alone for the rest of the afternoon. No visitors."

"Of course, Grandma. I'll let everyone know."

Once Annie left and gently closed the door, she turned to the nearby guard. "Did anyone else come in earlier?"

The doorman shook his head. "Today, you were the only one who entered, Annie."

Annie frowned, her eyes clouded with doubt. Where on earth had Brielle gone?

"Cough, cough."

Desiree cleared her throat and reached for her handkerchief to dab at the corners of her mouth. Her aged hand patted the bed.

"Come out now."

Brielle slowly crawled out from under the bed, her gaze meeting Desiree's kind eyes. Sunlight streamed into the room through the open window. She hadn't used the front door; she'd come through the window.This content belongs to Nô/velDra/ma.Org .

The doorman wasn't there to monitor Desiree but to be at her beck and call. When Brielle first arrived, Desiree merely glanced at her. Now, in the stillness, Brielle didn't know what to say.

Desiree sighed and closed her eyes. "You and Sasha are spitting images of each other."

Brielle stayed quiet. Technically, it was Annie who resembled the lady from the Lynch family, Dustin's

mother. Brielle resembled her too et

but since Annie wasn't a Lynch by blood, her appearance seemed to inoculate the Lynch family against the resemblance - there are plenty of lookalikes in the world.

The reason the powers that be hadn't let Annie assume the identity of the Lynch daughter outright could be that the Lynches weren't easily, fooled. With so many in the family particularly one close to Raymond, a renowned doctor, it was hard to pull the wool over their eyes. So Annie was placed in the open as a reminder to the Lynches:

resemblance doesn't prove lineage.

And if it came down to it, Annie bore even more resemblance to the Lynch family Brielle's features weren't an exact match for anyone in particular; she was a blend of two people Annie had been deliberately brought closer to the Lynches in appearance, and Brielle wondered whether this was by nature or a carefully crafted facade.

Faced with Desiree's remark, she didn't know what to say.

Desiree was frail, barely managing to speak a few sentences before leaning back on the bed, her eyes half-closed as if drifting to sleep. Brielle gently reached out and began to softly massage her legs. Desiree's eyes fluttered open again, and she patted Brielle's hand lightly. "Good girl, as dutiful as little Jude."

After speaking, Desiree started to cough, but her body was so weak that she barely made a sound. Brielle said nothing, carefully massaging her legs.

Desiree's hair was completely white, a testament to her holding on by a thread. But as the saying goes, time doesn't mar a beauty. In her countenance, one could glimpse the charm of her youth.

Brielle knew she couldn't stay long - Annie had already detected her presence. When she woke up that morning, Max had sent her two texts. One simply said: Missing you. The other warned: Watch out for the man with the scar on his face; he might be the one who betrayed Dustin.

So when she opened the door and saw the scarred mute man, her instincts screamed caution. And she sensed his hesitation. Max had also cautioned her to trust no one. In a conspiracy years in the making, everyone close to the Lynches was suspect.