It was only October, but the air in Kleymond was already crisp and cold. Early that morning, Maeve Reese was still curled up in bed, fast asleep. Suddenly, her mother, Valda Reese, burst into the room, her voice shattering the silence. "Maeve, get up! Stop lazing around. Today's the big day—you and Jeff Graves are getting your marriage license. Don't keep him waiting!"
The words "marriage license" hit Maeve like a bucket of ice water. She shot up in bed, hesitating before lowering her gaze. "Mom, I don't want to marry him," she mumbled.
"What did you say?" Valda's voice was sharp with disbelief. "Are you out of your mind? Jeff's from a wealthy family! Marrying him would set you up for life. Do you know how many people would kill for this opportunity? And you're saying you don't want it?"
"He's cheating on me. I'm not marrying him," Maeve said firmly.
Just yesterday, she'd gone to bring Jeff hangover medicine and discovered a gut-wrenching truth. Peeking through a crack in the door, she'd seen him in bed with another woman. The sight shattered her illusions about him, revealing how little she knew.
Maeve had first met Jeff at the hospital when her father was seriously ill and needed expensive surgery the family couldn't afford. Jeff's father, Wallace Graves, had stepped in, covering the costs and offering Maeve's father a job.
Out of gratitude and feeling immense pressure, Maeve eventually succumbed to Jeff's advances. At first, he seemed perfect—kind, attentive, and caring. But as soon as she refused to become physically intimate, his attitude changed dramatically. He became distant, dismissive, and cruel, often calling her in the middle of the night for medicine or alcohol, disregarding her needs and feelings.
Over the past year, Maeve had felt increasingly drained, both mentally and physically. Her relationship felt less like a partnership and more like unpaid servitude. Last night, she'd cried softly, hoping a conversation with Valda would bring comfort and understanding.
Instead, Valda's response was harsh and unyielding. "We've already spent most of the Graves family's engagement gift. If you back out, how will we pay for your brother's tuition? Do you expect us to sell our blood to cover the costs?"
Maeve stared in shock. I'm the one who's been wronged, and all she cares about is the money? I didn't even know they'd already received the gift! she thought.
"Mom!" Maeve's frustration erupted. "He cheated on me! How can you expect me to marry him?"
"Stop with the excuses," Valda snapped. "Every man makes mistakes. As long as he's good after the wedding, what's the problem? Now hurry up and stop keeping Jeff waiting!"
Valda clearly didn't care about Maeve's pain. She wasn't about to let go of the money. She dragged Maeve out of bed, rushed her through a quick wash and change, and practically shoved her out the door toward city hall.
Standing outside, surrounded by excited couples, Maeve felt despair. She should have known—no one in her family cared about her feelings. Her life had been controlled by her parents: her schooling, her friends, her career. But today, she wouldn't let them control her anymore—not when it meant marrying a man who treated her so poorly. After twenty-three years of obedience, Maeve had a bold idea. Before Jeff arrived, she would find someone else to marry and end her family's plans.
But where am I going to find someone on such short notice? she wondered.
Just then, a deep, chilling voice cut through the air. "So, it took you this long to figure out my fiancée ran off with a bodyguard?"
The words "fiancée" and "ran off" hit Maeve like a slap. She turned. A tall, impeccably dressed man stood under a nearby tree, his back partially turned as he spoke on his phone. He was devastatingly handsome, his dark suit perfectly tailored. Even from a distance, Maeve felt his commanding presence.
A spark of hope flickered in Maeve's eyes as she quietly approached him.
His lips curled into a sardonic smile. "Don't bother looking," he said coolly. "Are there really no other women? Do I have to settle for someone who's already run off with another man?" "But Mr. McDaniel, Mr. Gilbert McDaniel insists you find another suitable woman or grab someone off the street. He's made it clear you're getting married today. Otherwise..." The voice hesitated. "...he said he won't go on living..."
Byron McDaniel rubbed his temples in frustration, about to reply when he felt a gentle tug on his sleeve. He turned to see a woman—Maeve—standing there. "Excuse me, sir," she whispered tentatively. "Since your bride has run off... would you consider marrying me instead?"
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