Master of his heart (Max and Brielle) novel Chapter 1033

King watched the woman on the monitor as she fell apart, his face growing colder by the second.

He knew exactly why she was crying. It was always about Max. Just hearing his name was enough to bring her to tears, never for him. She adored Max so much that without him, life or death didn’t seem to matter.

He knew it all too well.

How despicable she was.

What did Max have that he didn’t? Why could Max effortlessly capture her affection? Her affection was so cheap, yet it was something he could never earn no matter how hard he tried.

At this moment, Brielle seemed like the most pitiful woman in the world. But when he glanced at his own reflection on the monitor, he realized his expression was hardly any better than Brielle’s.

Maybe he was even more pitiful than the most pitiful person.

It didn’t surprise him when Brielle didn’t answer. He smirked and sent a message:

"Come on in. Take a look at Max's child with another. Looks just like him, doesn't it? You might like that."

People tend to lose control when faced with something they can’t have, especially when it’s so easily obtained by someone they despise.

He was so out of control he wished he could kill Max himself. But he was the last person on Earth who could actually do it.

Brielle, reading the message, realized she was under his constant surveillance. Now she understood how King kept track of her movements in Premier Palace so well. With cameras everywhere and his knowledge of their locations, including the hidden ones he had placed, he had free rein.

The thought sent shivers down her spine, and she was reminded of a dream from the night before. That dream instilled a deep-seated fear of King in her, as if she was terrified he’d lose control and punish her like in her nightmare.

But in reality, she and King had never crossed paths.

Suppressing her discomfort, Brielle remained still, not stepping closer. She sensed King was using these actions to highlight that he wasn’t Max.

Max disliked closeness, never allowing servants to attend to him so intimately. Max never liked his fingers stained with grape juice, always wearing gloves to peel grapes for her.

Brielle had once wished to see his fingers stained purple, frustrated that Max never gave her the chance. But she understood Max’s cleanliness was something he couldn’t compromise.

King, however, reveled in the sensation of colors on his fingertips when peeling grapes, a stark contrast to Max.

Even the way King had casually committed violence in her presence was different. Max had always been extremely gentle with her, shielding her from such sights.

King was not Max, yet he seemed to recall things that happened to Max. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have mentioned the text message so casually or shown his grape-peeling so deliberately, almost as if he wanted her to give up hope.