Byron held her slender waist with one hand and said lazily, "If you behave, I might just let you off." He thought, For example, stop saying one thing and meaning another, and stop acting like you don't care about me. What good would saying something nice do for her?

Maeve clenched her fists and said sarcastically, "Oh, right. I forgot you're the high-and-mighty CEO of the Medaniel Group. If I offend you, I'll definitely be in hot water."

Byron frowned. "What did you say?"

"Nothing, Mr. McDaniel. If you feel my drawing offended you, feel free to sue me or call the police. I don't care." With that, Maeve struggled to free herself from his arm.

Unexpectedly, Byron let go. She lost her balance and plopped onto the bed with a thud. Even though the bed was soft, the fall stunned her; her gaze was blank.

"You've calmed down, huh?" Byron crossed his arms. His sharp blue eyes seemed to see through her thoughts. Staring intently, he said, "Maeve, what exactly are you afraid of?"

Maeve's shoulders trembled. Afraid? So I've been afraid all along? I'm afraid of getting too involved with someone of Byron's status—he'd suffer no loss if we parted ways, but I might be badly hurt. I'm also afraid of something like what happened with Jeff. What I fear even more is... that he just wants to have fun with me and doesn't really love me. An indescribable sense of emotional weariness welled up inside her. Not wanting to think further, she turned and burrowed into the blanket.

A muffled voice came from under the blanket: "I'm still a little dizzy. I want to sleep now."

Byron was so angry he almost laughed. This woman scolded me without letting me explain, and now she wants to avoid the subject? He pulled the blanket away. His voice was deep and cold: "Get up. We haven't cleared things up, yet you want to sleep?"

He held her waist and dragged her out of the blanket. She resisted, but he grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head. She was helpless, pressed down by Byron, unable to move. Angry and anxious, she glared at him. "Byron, I have nothing to talk about except divorce."

"What's wrong? Not calling me Mr. McDaniel anymore?" Also riled up, Byron pinched her chin and leaned forward. His tone became serious: "While I'm still in a good mood, you'd better clear things up. What do you mean you'll be in hot water after offending me? What exactly are you dissatisfied with, huh?"

Maeve stubbornly turned her head away. "No, I have no dissatisfaction with you."

"You're lying," Byron's eyes turned cold. "You're not trying to get a divorce because I hid my identity. You're afraid I'll use my power against you, right?"

Maeve said nothing. He forcibly turned her face toward him, making her meet his gaze. "Maeve, is that how you see me? Or have I been too indulgent, leading you to have delusional disorder?"

Maeve frowned, self-disdain evident. "You're the one with delusional disorder. Yes, so what if that's how I see you? You're powerful and influential. You even want to sue me for sketching a drawing of you. If I accidentally offend you, I won't even be able to protect myself." She thought, The trauma Jeff left on me still hasn't disappeared. I can only force myself to stay rational, not let my feelings cloud my judgment, and not fall into that kind of difficult situation again. Is it wrong to do that? She chuckled.

Byron looked at her and then leaned close to her ear, saying something in a low voice.

Maeve's pupils shrank, her cheeks flushed. What nonsense is he spouting? How can he even say something like that? Does he have any shame? Don't do anything rash. She swallowed, her clear eyes filled with panic.

Byron snorted and chuckled. "You know you can't protect yourself, yet you still dare to provoke me. Can your small build handle my torture?"

Maeve closed her eyes in shame and anger. Then she felt a pain in her lower lip. She opened her eyes, meeting Byron's blue eyes. "If you mention divorce again, do you believe I'll really use my power against you?"

"What will you do?" Maeve asked instinctively.

Byron sneered. "I'll cause you serious trouble."

Maeve was speechless. The heat surged back to her face; her mind felt like it was breaking, her body flushed. "Byron!"

"I can hear you," Byron let go of her hand. "Move back before the day after tomorrow. Do you hear me?" Maeve's eyes glinted. After a long silence, she asked, "Byron, do you have feelings for me?"

Byron paused. His Adam's apple tightened. After a moment, he replied, "I don't hate you."

Inwardly, Maeve smiled self-mockingly. So that means he doesn't have feelings for me either. Fine. I didn't have any expectations in the first place. Compared to liking me, he probably finds liking my body more practical, even though we've never gotten physical.

"Since you don't like me, why are you unwilling to get a divorce?" Maeve lowered her gaze. "If you're worried about the division of assets, I can sign a divorce agreement where I won't take a single cent, and I'll leave with nothing." (She had asked Bonnie to help her find a lawyer for this reason.)

Perhaps in the eyes of others, she was getting a raw deal. However, she did not want to lose her own integrity.

"Maeve, as long as you don't talk about feelings, you are Mrs. McDaniel," Byron said slowly. "Even if we get a divorce in the future, I won't treat you inadequately. Understand?" (I've never considered spending my life with anyone. Marriage can be temporary, but it can't last forever. Even if Maeve is different from other women, I won't make an exception for her.)

Maeve felt as if she had been doused with cold water. The tiny glimmer of hope disappeared.

"So, what you're saying is that if we don't get divorced now, you'll pay me handsomely in the future?" She swallowed her bitterness. "Yes, name the conditions." (So generous.)

Maeve gripped the corner of the blanket and was silent. She looked up and said, "I want that apartment of yours, including that Christmas tree." (Talking about feelings makes me look foolish. Let's only talk about money then.) (She really liked that apartment; it had decorations and items she had carefully arranged.)

Byron raised his eyebrows, surprised. She doesn't want McDaniel Group shares, luxury cars, or mansions. She only wants that apartment? He reminded her slowly, "Maeve, I wasn't joking when I said I wouldn't treat you inadequately."