Master of his heart ( Brielle And Max ) novel Chapter 972

King stood gazing out at the shadowy mountains, his breath mingling with the chill at the cliff's edge. A slight smirk played on his lips.

“Think I’ve got a shot?”

“Absolutely, sir. While Max becoming the president of DreamTech Designs was a surprise, I’m confident that you have far stronger connections. I trust you completely.”

The man chuckled softly as the words left Antonio’s mouth.

Antonio couldn’t figure out what was so amusing, tilting his head in confusion. The garden around them was in full bloom, caught in that vibrant transition between spring and summer.

King plucked a flower, gently rolling it between his fingers before crushing it slowly.

“Did the old man tell you anything before you came here?”

A shiver ran through Antonio, and he lowered his gaze. “He did. Grandfather’s getting old and doesn’t believe you have such capabilities, sir.”

Antonio kept back the secret Michael had confided in him, the one about this house.

“The old man wasn’t wrong. There’s a reason he was the previous heir to the Dorsey estate—he wasn’t senile enough to not know friend from foe.”

Antonio didn’t grasp the meaning of his words, but in the next instant, the barrel of a gun was staring him down.

He stepped back, disbelief etched on his face. “Sir, what are you—”

King continued to chuckle, pulling the trigger without hesitation.

Antonio stumbled backward, plummeting, but his will to live kicked in, and his hand snapped out, grasping the edge of the cliff.

Pain exploded near his heart, so intense he wanted to cry out. Clutching the precipice, he looked up in terror at the man with the gun, who was approaching slowly.

“Sir, I don’t understand—”

His voice was tinged with a cry, like someone abandoned by the deity they trusted most.

King looked down at him, “What’s there to not understand? William, who rages in his grave for being killed by his own son, should be the confused one. Michael, the grandson who turned the tables on those who used him, should be bewildered. Your role, the sword, was quite useful—far better than me seeking my own revenge on the Dorsey family. If I struck directly, they’d die unfulfilled, but your betrayal will crush them.”

Antonio, hanging on the edge, was running out of strength, even his fingertips bleeding. His face was ghostly pale.

“I don’t understand, I don’t understand—”

Rage surged through him. Why was he always the one discarded? Even after dragging Max through the mire, how could Max still find redemption?

He despised everything—if only Max had never existed.