Master of his heart

Chapter 82

As Lillian turned away, a sly smile curled the corners of her lips. She hadn’t anticipated such a lucky break.

The marks on Brielle’s neck certainly weren’t from Spencer. After all, he had been tied up in his own troubles these past few days. It seemed Brielle had indeed been rolling in the hay with some unsavory characters.

At this moment, Lillian felt on top of the world, as though even the gods were conspiring in her favor. With Brielle tarnished in such a way, who would want her now? Especially since she was on the verge of crossing the Rowlands and the Hatfields.

Unable to contain her glee, Lillian stealthily pulled out her phone and texted Sophia. [Sweetie, sorry, I can’t help you this time. I tried to get the Haywoods to come, but Brielle’s stubborn as a mule. Now Miranda’s fainted from the stress, and I need to dash to the hospital. What’s your game plan?]

Sophia was deeply touched by the message. Compared to the troublemaker Emily, Lillian was practically an angel. [I guess I have no choice but to turn to Tessa, hoping she can get Andrew to step in. Lillian, you’ve been a lifesaver. Is Miranda okay?]

Lillian didn’t reply immediately, deliberately waiting a good fifteen minutes before responding. [Not sure yet, gotta go. Ugh, Bri’s really not giving an inch this time.]

Seeing Brielle’s name, Sophia felt her eyes burn with rage. Indeed, that bitch! Despite everyone’s pleas, she hadn’t budged an inch.

Sophia sneered, vowing that once she got through this ordeal, she’d find someone even tougher to take Brielle down a peg. Next time, it wouldn’t just be rumors. She’d have a video of Brielle’s escapades spread all over Beaconsfield. Then she’d see how that hussy would have the gall to stick around.

Sophia was seething with plans for revenge, panic was setting in. The police were knocking at her door. As the cold handcuffs clicked around her wrists, her hatred for Brielle and

Rowlands, her frequent visits

the police station fell into an awkward silence with the departure

forehead. Exhausted, she

which meant someone was pulling strings behind

fingers weakly curled, then relaxed.

with her eyes closed. She knew that many people at the scene were eyeing her neck,

few words. “You sure get around, don’t

words dripped with scorn, his gaze trying to pierce

felt cold, a chill rising from her feet and spreading

grew closer, and a respectful voice announced,

owe the honor of your personal

eyes open, but could only

radiating warmth as