Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

way, the King is actually Max. They've got this whole split personality thing going on."

"Hey Toasting, there's something you need to know. Brielle's gonna come after you again. She might try to badmouth me, but you've seen what's happened to me. If it weren't for Prince Arthur, I'd probably be dead. Brielle and the King-they're ruthless. Oh, and by the Ramey's eyes widened in shock. He wasn't part of Brielle's world, so all of this was news to him, and it felt like his brain was about to explode.

"Toasting, I need your help."

Ramey stood there, frozen, a chill running down his spine. The cousin he'd always admired was now in such a dire situation.

He struggled to find his voice, eventually managing a raspy, "What do you need me to do?"

"Just go along with me. Prince Arthur will take care of the rest."

Ramey lowered his gaze, unable to meet his cousin's eyes. "Alright."

Brielle sent her bodyguard to pick up Ramey, but traffic was a nightmare, delaying them by half an hour. A few minutes later, Ramey called her, saying he'd decided to drive himself.

"Ms. Brielle, you sounded pretty serious earlier. I thought something major was up. I've been thinking about taking a trip out of North America, so I figured driving myself would be quicker, y'know?"

Before he could finish, a deafening crash came through the phone.

Brielle's face turned white, and she jumped up from the couch. "Ramey?"

But all she heard was chaos on the line. She rushed outside, telling her bodyguard to track Ramey's

location. When she arrived, she saw

Ramey being loaded into an

ambulance, covered in

She

had no idea if he'd make it.

Anxiety gnawed at her, her brows furrowed deeply. All she could do was follow the ambulance to the hospital, watching as blonde nurses hurried through the corridors.

Feeling unwell herself, she leanedText © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

against the cool hospital wall,

hoping it would help clear her head Ramey's emergency treatment lasted a whole day and night, with doctors constantly coming and going, their faces serious.

Seeing her condition, a doctor suggested she rest, as the efforts to save Ramey would continue into the next day. But how could she leave when she was the reason for all this? Exhaustion finally won, and she got another room to catch some sleep. That evening, a doctor woke her to inform her that Ramey had been moved to a regular room. "Ma'am, are you a friend of his? Please brace yourself."

With a heavy heart, she followed the doctor to the room, where she saw Ramey, his head wrapped in bandages, his legs evidently injured, lying motionless on the bed.

"The patient's legs suffered severe crush injuries; he'll need a wheelchair. His face was badly cut by glass, leaving him disfigured. We're not sure how he'll handle this. Ms. Brielle, your support would be crucial." Disfigured. Crippled. All because of her call, Ramey was now like this.

Brielle felt a throbbing pain in her

head, her palms sweating as she sat beside him. The nurse added, "His vocal cords were damaged, so his voice will be harsh and unpleasant. It'll probably be two months before he can leave the hospital."

After the doctor left, Brielle felt her fever rising. If she'd known Ramey would end up like this, she would never have made that call. She had dragged an innocent man into her mess, ruining his life. Rubbing her temples, she felt nauseous, overwhelmed by guilt.