Master of his heart (Max and Brielle) novel Chapter 823

Aubree frowned slightly at the sight of Tessa's distress but held her tongue.

Just then, the dressing room door swung open, and in walked Brielle, with two bodyguards Max had sent to protect her trailing behind.

Brielle sniffed the air, detecting the chaos, and took in the sight of the two injured individuals sprawled on the floor. She didn't linger on their injuries, though. She went straight to Aubree, ensuring she was unharmed before finally relaxing.

"She's going to rot in a cell for life," Brielle declared with conviction.

Andrew spoke up then, his voice hoarse with emotion. He reached for Aubree's hand but stopped short at the slight furrow in her brow, as if an invisible force had frozen him in place. His words were enough to drive Tessa into madness.

Tessa's laughter grew wilder, a mix of sobs and cackles as she clawed at her own wounds in a twisted act of revenge.

"I don't believe it. I refuse to believe you don't care about me," she wailed. "Look at me, I'm hurt—I'm really hurt."

Aubree raised an eyebrow, her stomach churning at the gory scene before her. She'd been nauseous many times recently, possibly a response to the traumatic image that haunted her solitude. Subconsciously, she touched her lips where a tooth had been chipped—now patched up but never truly healed. The incident lingered like a thorn in her side; the pain had faded to mere discomfort, replaced by a sickening feeling she had hoped would vanish. But the thorn had not disappeared; it had grown into a bone within her, an indelible part of her being.

Brielle positioned herself protectively in front of Aubree, her disdain for Andrew palpable. "Can you please take your wife away?" she asked, the word 'wife' slicing through the air like a knife into Andrew's heart.

Tessa's laughter stopped abruptly, her gaze locking onto Brielle with fierce intensity. "Don't you gloat, Brielle. You'll burn in hell! Max doesn't truly fancy you. Hah, just you wait, your days of suffering are still ahead! Everyone will burn in hell! Everyone!"

The person enforcing her signature was relentless, forcibly bending her hand to make her sign. Tears streamed down Tessa's cheeks, her bones popping out of place under the pressure.

"It hurts! Andrew, save me..." Even now, Andrew was all she could think about. Indifferent to her pleas, Andrew stood at a distance, silent.

Only after two fingers were broken did Tessa finally sign her name. Clutching the arm of the officer beside her, she pleaded, "Bring Andrew to me. He said he'd marry me. Andrew loves me the most, he's the kindest to me."

In the fantasy she had spun for herself, Andrew's love was undying. So she clung to the laughter, to the dream of their wedding day, unwilling to wake from the illusion she cherished.