Master of his heart (Max and Brielle)
Chapter 1423

"Don't cry, okay? Just head back and stay put, I'll get someone to come pick you up." "Alright."

Tiffanie ended the call, tears streaming down her face like a lost child unable to find their way home. Mason was just a floor above her in the hospital, watching as she cried while talking on the phone. Suddenly, she turned around, and Mason quickly ducked behind the curtains, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. He found it oddly amusing, her desperate need to escape, like being near him was some kind of torture.

He lowered his head, feeling a stinging sensation in his eyes. When they first crossed paths in Beaconsfield, he never imagined they'd end up like this, caught in a web of old family grudges that seemed impossible to untangle. What was he supposed to do now? He wished someone could tell him how to sort out this mess.

Taking a deep drag from his cigarette, he thought back to the wedding invitation he'd received. She didn't have many people left to lean on; Max was really the only one. She probably called Max and was headed back to Beaconsfield. Without hesitation, he booked a flight back there, too.

That night, Tiffanie did return to Beaconsfield, alone in that big, empty house, feeling completely unsettled. The house was a gift from Max, a place where she didn't have to worry about life's necessities. Yet, inside, she was in turmoil. Every car that passed by made her wish it would just hit her, end it all. Every sharp object in the house tempted her to cut into her skin.

Only pain seemed to bring her a moment of clarity, a brief escape from her nightmares. But she couldn't escape them. Sitting on the couch, Tiffanie lit a cigarette, pressing the glowing end against the back of her hand until it blistered, yet she felt nothing. The pain wasn't enough; she needed more.

She hurried to the kitchen, looking for a knife to finish what she'd started. But then the doorbell rang. Thinking it was Max, she quickly put the knife back. Opening the door, she was surprised to see Mason standing there instead.

"Have you eaten?" he asked, so casually, as if they were back in their early North American days, living together. Tiffanie first shook her head, then nodded.

Mason held up a container of food. "Have some more, I made it myself."

Tiffanie didn't say anything, standing at the doorway, clearly not wanting to let him in. Mason didn't push, and they stood in silence for a while.

Finally, she whispered, "Mason, let's just call it quits."

Her voice was hoarse, and saying it felt like a dagger to her chest. Mason stiffened, his eyes dropping to the floor.

"Call it quits?" he echoed, letting out a bitter laugh. "How can we just end it when you were the one who came into my life first? Remember?"

"I haven't forgotten. It's my fault, I'm

sorry," Tiffanie mumbled, her head

bo, her voice barely a

it's all my fault."

"I'm

Mason felt a lump in his throat, and when he saw the burns on her hand, he impulsively pulled her inside Tiffanie, caught off guard, sat on the sofa, trying to hide her injured hand.

Mason noticed the cigarette butts scattered on the coffee table. His eyes teared up as he picked one up, taking a drag. The smoke made his eyes water even more. Looking at her, he suddenly pressed the cigarette onto her already blistered hand.

"Does it hurt?" he asked harshly, as if her hand was nothing more than an ashtray.

Tiffanie shook her head, "No, it doesn't hurt."

Mason's hand trembled, tears spilling down his face. "Is that so? But I'm in pain. Does that make me crazy?"