Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

The man was undeniably handsome, the most striking Emma had ever laid eyes on-way better looking than any celebrity she'd seen on TV. Even with his eyes shut, his features were stunning enough to take anyone's breath away. She really hoped those high fevers hadn't fried his brain. Raising her hand, she started tearing his clothes to change his bandages. Dustin frowned, his chest rising and falling with intense anger. Emma noticed and gently patted his chest to calm him down. Once he seemed more settled, she began the acupuncture. His life had been hanging by a thread, and now that he was finally stepping back from death's door, she was determined to take the utmost care of him. From shoulder to abdomen, Dustin was wrapped in long bandages that Emma had traveled hours to the county town to buy. The small clinic usually handled minor injuries and had never seen wounds this severe.

After finishing with the acupuncture, Emma carefully put away the silver needles and wiped the sweat from her forehead. She stood up and walked over to the stove to reheat the soup she'd been simmering. Hearing her mother cough from the other room, she took the still-warm medicine to her.

When Dustin opened his eyes, the room was filled with a medicinal scent-not exactly pleasant, but not unbearable either. His brow furrowed as he tried to speak, but no words came out. His whole body ached, leaving him no choice but to lie in bed. Emma returned with the chipped medicine bowl, surprised to see him awake. Without checking on him, she continued heating the soup, her back turned to him. Dustin's eyes roved around the room, taking in the sparse decorations.

Poor. Really poor. The house was made of wood, with a tiled roof. It felt strange that he couldn't remember anything, yet he found this environment absolutely dismal. Even his pets lived in luxury villas.This material belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

The thought startled him. Luxury villas?

"Don't rush to remember things," Emma advised, "or you'll just confuse yourself more. Focus on getting better for now."

She knew he wasn't ordinary; his good looks and commanding presence could make anyone blush. Even with her tough demeanor, she couldn't help but stammer under his gaze.

"I-I'm the local doctor here. You need to rest up. You can't rush your recovery."

Dustin was indeed in pain, each breath a struggle. His memories were a jumbled mess, just like she said-his body was too weak to make sense of it all. Yet he could feel the rage spreading from his heart, the recurring image of himself in a standoff, gun in hand,

Who was that person? Did they take one bullet or two, while he himself was outnumbered and took three? Maybe there was a moment of hesitation on their part, not wanting to finish the job themselves, so they told the others to "clean it up."

The wounded man had walked away, taking a few with him but leaving more behind to deal with Dustin. Despite being shot three times and his strength waning, he managed to fend off a dozen

knife-wielding attackers. Barlet

escaping, he dove into their car,

hacked into their computer, and sent an email to someone in a daze. With people in pursuit, he lost

consciousness as the car plunged into the river.

Dustin wanted to cough but didn't even have the strength for that. The deepest impression in his mind was still that standoff. The burning anger in his body was undeniable.

Emma placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, gently patting it. "Don't think about it for now. It's a miracle you've survived. Rest up for a couple of months, and you'll be alright. Then you can do whatever you want."

Dustin's roiling emotions slowly

subsided, but he didn't reach for the soup. Instead, he closed his eyes. With only his eyes and ears working, speaking was out of the question. Seeing that he didn't want the soup, Emma finished it herself, not a drop left.