Master of his heart (Max and Brielle) novel Chapter 679

Chapter 679 

A scarf had led to an all–night manhunt, but the thief might as well have vanished into thin air. Despite turning every private lounge Inside out, there was no trace to be found. Moreover, there was a concurrent cyber attack on the surrounding security systems. This job was so slick it had to be the work of someone on the international most–wanted list. 

The staff couldn’t fathom what was so special about Mr. Dorsey’s scarf that warranted such a massive uproar from the thieves. Could it possibly bear the secrets of Dorsey International’s business strategies? 

Everyone was baffled and on edge. 

Max had been sitting on that couch all night, his eyes now half–closed, his thoughts a mystery to all. The rest of the room remained silent, not daring to speak. 

“Go on. Get out,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, likely having given up on the scarf. 

Those present felt a wave of relief wash over them as they shuffled out of the lounge, their bodies heavy with exhaustion. 

The commotion stirred Jaired, who had been dozing off to the side. He stretched languidly and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Did you find it?” His voice was still rough with sleep. 

Max was irritated and yanked at the tie around his neck, his usually impeccable composure now visibly disturbed. 

“No.” 

Jaired was now fully awake. “It’s just a scarf, right? Why all this fuss? You must’ve lost at least a hundred million just shooing away the guests last night. What kind of scarf costs that much? I heard the staff gossiping about it being covered in Dorsey International’s business secrets.” 

Jaired was jesting, of course, knowing full well that no trade secrets would be woven into a scarf. But he was just as curious about what made this particular scarf so valuable. 

Max was in a foul mood. He had taken such care of that scarf, having it cleaned and maintained daily, never expecting it to disappear after just a week of wear. His lips pressed into a thin line, but his expression softened slightly at the thought. “Brielle made it.” 

Jaired thought he’d misheard and froze, then dug a finger into his ear. “Say that again?” 

A loss of a hundred million, alienating numerous guests, and having the staff at Tequila Sunset scour the place all night all came down to a scarf that was hand–knitted by Brielle. 

Wasn’t it just an ordinary scarf? 

Jaired was in disbelief! He wanted to curse out loud but didn’t know where to direct his anger, so he managed to blurt out, “Damn! Love is a real piece of work!” 

Life seemed to be one foolish move after another, and love was a folly chased by two fools. 

Utterly pointless. 

After his outburst, Jaired kicked a table, regretting the wasted night in the lounge. Kenzo was right to have left early. He was likely enjoying a good night’s sleep by now. 

Max said nothing, feeling the weight of several restless days, and as the lounge quieted down, he leaned back on the sofa and fell asleep. 

Patrick entered, intending to report on a charred car that had been found with the remains of the scarf inside. Barely anything was left of it, unrecognizable from its original form. It might have been better if it hadn’t been found at all. 

The previous night’s citywide electrical issues and surveillance interference meant no footage captured the thief’s exit. Clearly, whoever was behind this had a strong motive, but Patrick couldn’t puzzle out what they truly intended to steal. Was the scarf just a secondary prize, and had they stolen something far more valuable from someone else? 

Seeing Max asleep, Patrick thought of exiting quietly but heard a hoarse voice ask, “Did you find it?” 

“Yeah, it went up in flames with the car. Just a pile of ash left. It’s no use to anyone now.” Patrick thought Max had been sleeping, but he 

was wide awake. 

“Hmm.” Max grunted, a pang of tightness/spreading across his chest. 

“Why don’t you go up to the penthouse suite to rest, sir?”