Master of his heart

Chapter 322

Aubree let out a sigh of relief; it seemed Brielle had ventured out on her own. A walk to clear her head was probably for the best, instead of staying put and being bombarded with constant updates about Max and Alivia’s escapades.

Meanwhile, Brielle was still in the car; her phone was on airplane mode, which meant no more incoming messages. She decided to spend the night in a hotel in the city she had reached.

After booking a room, she parked her car and headed inside.

This was a neighboring city to Beaconsfield, and the hotel, nestled in a small county town, wasn’t exactly top–notch. In the dead of night, a sudden pounding at the door jolted her awake. *Bang! Bang! Bang!”

“Boom!”

A cacophony of sounds twisted her brows in an instant as she sat up in bed.

The noises continued outside, peppered with the cursing of men in a local dialect Brielle couldn’t understand. She pushed a table against the door for added security.

any means to contact the front desk, and even if she called the cops, by the time they arrived, it might be too late

glanced at her

over.

no

smile, consoled by the thought that at least she

beautiful sunset.

the noise ceased, she curled up in bed and drifted back to sleep. At the crack of dawn, she rose, eager to reach Radiant Light Church in time to possibly catch

roads, she parked her car beneath the Radiant Light Church. The sun was just peeking out from the sea of clouds, a fiery orb. Her gloom lifted entirely, and she couldn’t resist stepping

the vast scheme of the universe. Her brief chapter with Max, in the grand timeline, was minuscule, so there was nothing to fret

box and prayed. Then she took out Julian’s urn and entrusted it to the church’s reverend, hoping

completing these rituals, she remembered Aubree’s instructions and pulled out a

Chapter 322

pondering, she wrote down Aubree’s wish:

and Andrew be lied together for

considered her next

she wrote down–Hoping Max might give liking me a try. The idea of Max with Alivia made her feel like a lowly interloper. She quickly erased it and rewrote–Wishing myself a happy birthday.