Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Finally, she perfected her makeup, and as the clock hit the hour, she kicked off her live stream. Her fans had been waiting eagerly, the air thick with buzz about Emma's rumored marriage, which had been lighting up the trending charts. Yet, she'd kept them guessing so far. "Hey everyone, it's Emma. Feels like forever, doesn't it?" she greeted.noveldrama

The chat blew up instantly, everyone clamoring to know if the whispers about her hitching up with the mysterious Mr. Zero were true.

Reading the sea of well-wishes and concerned messages, Emma felt a wave of guilt wash over her.

"No, guys, I'm not married to Mr. Zero. Honestly, I wouldn't recognize him if I bumped into him on the street," she confessed.

But the questions kept coming, mixed with a few harsh voices throwing insults, branding her a sellout.

Emma's eyes dropped, feeling the sting of their words. "I'm sorry for letting you down. I've had a lot on my mind, but here I am, back like before. To those who stick by me, thank you. To those who don't, I understand." The chat settled down, the trolls temporarily silenced.

Emma carried on chatting, just like the good old days, though it was clear everyone was curious about her "husband." She kept that topic under wraps.

Meanwhile, across the street, Dustin was glued to her stream. His face was a mask, a stark contrast to her cheerful chatter with fans. If he hadn't seen her so lifeless in that hospital bed, he'd think everything was fine. Lighting a cigarette, Dustin watched the stream, thinking about her calling out for Mr. Lynch that night, a heaviness in his chest.

As his cigarette burned to the end, he was still at a loss about where things had gone wrong. He sent Emma a message. "Don't overdo the streaming, Emma. Remember to rest."

Emma glanced at her phone during the live stream but stayed unfazed, continuing her chat as if the message was from a stranger.

Dustin felt frustration bubbling up, taking a deep breath before sending another message. "Did I do something wrong?"

Emma simply set her phone aside, ignoring his message. She had set up a streaming space on the ground floor, away from where her child slept upstairs. The villa was spacious enough that any crying wouldn't disturb her. After ending the stream, Emma stared blankly at the dark screen, lost in her thoughts.

Peyton came in with some fruit. "I have to admit, my knife skills aren't quite as artistic as Dustin's. He turns fruit into little animals, making them even tastier somehow."

Emma smiled softly. "Mom, I prefer yours, always. It's just us now. I'll keep working hard, and if you ever fancy some gold, I'll buy you some every week. It's a smart investment, right? If things get tough, we can sell it

Peyton suspected there was trouble with Dustin but stood by Emma's choices. "Emma, whatever you decide, I'm with you."

Emma's eyes welled up with tears, the weight of everything pressing down on her. "Mom, I'm sorry."

Peyton, too, was close to tears, quickly turning away. "Let's not dwell on the past. You've forgiven my old ways, and that's all I need. We'll figure this out together." Peyton's change of heart was a rare comfort. Emma took a deep breath, "I'll work hard."

On the other side, Dustin, still waiting e for a reply, felt puzzled and restless. That night, struggling to sleep, be sent another message. "The baby didn't cry tonight, did they?"

Emma replied this time. "No, very quiet."

Dustin lay awake, missing the nights when they'd fall asleep hand in hand, occasionally waking to check on their child. Now, the empty house only made him feel more uneasy. Eventually, he drifted off in the early hours, only to get up at dawn and head over to Emma's.

Peyton greeted him at the door, her demeanor polite but distant. "Emma's in the nursery; the baby woke up crying, and she's feeding them now."

Dustin walked briskly to the nursery, opening the door to see Emma soothing their child, gently wiping away tears with a baby wipe.

"Emma," he called softly.

As he approached, he noticed her exposed while feeding, pausing before quickly grabbing a pair of slippers, setting them down in front of her. "Put these on."