"I know, but this is all I want," Maeve said with a chuckle. "Why? You don't want to give it to me, huh?"

Byron initially wanted to transfer the entire building to her, but an inexplicable frustration held him back. He simply said, "Sure. It's just one house." Maeve smiled, saying nothing. To her, it was much more than that.

Byron glanced at his watch. "It's getting late. If you're not feeling well, skip the restaurant. I'll have the waiter send dinner up later." He spoke casually, yet his thoughtfulness was evident.

Maeve pinched her palm, reminding herself not to get carried away. She got out of bed. "It's okay. I'm feeling much better now."

Soon, they were in the manor's traditional-style restaurant, snow drifting outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. The area near the fireplace was spring-like in its warmth.

Halfway through dinner, Maeve, finding herself too close to the fire, removed her beige lace, off-the-shoulder sweater dress and placed her coat beside her. The beautiful lines of her shoulders and neck were clearly visible; under the warm light, she was dazzling. Her shoulder-length black hair framed her serene face.

Sensing the intense stares directed at her, Byron frowned, his gaze fixed on her exposed shoulders and neck. "Maeve, are you cold?"

"Huh?" Maeve, taking a bite of a cherry tomato, looked at him questioningly. His expression was displeased. "It's not cold. It's quite warm here."

Byron's handsome face darkened. "Can you wear something more seasonally appropriate? You're prioritizing style over warmth and risk getting sick."

Maeve was already displeased; this only made it worse. "It's my freedom to wear what I want. If I get sick, it's my problem. I'm not coming to you for a diagnosis or medication." Byron was speechless. He thought, Doesn't she notice those men staring at her with lust? What's with the off-the-shoulder outfit in this weather? And this restaurant's awkwardly placed fireplace... I'll have it removed after the acquisition.

Byron's coldness made the observant restaurant manager antsy. "Mr. McDaniel, are you dissatisfied with our service? Could this affect the acquisition?"

A waiter leaned in to whisper to the manager, "I overheard something while getting water..."

The manager's eyes widened.

Shortly after, Maeve felt a significant drop in temperature. Goosebumps rose on her neck. Afraid of catching a cold, she quickly put her coat back on, rubbing her palms and muttering, "That's strange. How did it get so cold?"

Byron glanced at the counter and smirked. The restaurant's service is good. It can stay. He asked casually, "Since it's cold, would you like to soak in the jacuzzi later?"

Maeve looked up, puzzled. "Didn't you tell me not to use the jacuzzi alone?"

Byron raised an eyebrow. "Who said you'd be alone? I'll be there."

"You want to... soak in the jacuzzi with me?" Maeve's eyes widened. She shook her head. "No, I don't want to." With his habit of kissing me at any moment, who knows what would happen?

"You can skip it," Byron said calmly. "Go straight to your room and rest."

Maeve thought, Is this a threat? She compromised, agreeing to the jacuzzi. If worse comes to worst, I'll stay far away from him.

The phone on the table vibrated. Maeve answered, thinking it was hers. "Hello?"

Karen's sobbing voice filled the room. "Byron, where are you? Come back to me!"

Maeve gasped, struggling to swallow. She handed the phone to Byron. "It's Karen. Sorry, I grabbed the wrong phone."

Byron glanced at her, took the phone, and asked seriously, "What's wrong?"

Karen's hoarse voice recounted her father's critical condition following post-surgical complications and a previous head injury.

Byron's expression grew solemn. He said in a low voice, "I'll go back now. Wait for me." He stood, grabbed his coat, and said to Maeve, "I need to go back to the city. Stay here or come with me?" Here we go again, Maeve thought.

She gripped her cutlery tightly. Her throat felt blocked. Before she could speak, her fingers grasped his sleeve. "Didn't you say you'd soak in the jacuzzi with me? I don't want to be alone! Don't go!"

"Karen is—"

"Karen, Karen! It's always Karen!" Maeve couldn't contain herself. "Why is it always her when you leave me?"

Byron stared at her seriously. "Maeve, don't make a fuss. We can use the jacuzzi anytime. Karen needs me. Things have varying degrees of urgency. Be sensible."

Each word felt like a blade. She looked up, seeing only his retreating back. I'm being insensible. I'm making a fuss. She rubbed her eyes and laughed self-deprecatingly. The unfinished chess game, the missed jacuzzi... I was the only one looking forward to them. He can leave without hesitation, leaving me behind with no right to complain. How could I not want a divorce?

She sat alone for a long time, the cold seeping into her bones. Someone sat opposite her.

"Hello, are you Ms. Reese?"

Maeve looked up at the unfamiliar man in a long burgundy coat. She smelled a faint, slightly astringent medicinal scent. "And you are?"

"Neville McDaniel," he said enigmatically. "You may have heard of me."

Neville McDaniel? Who is that? Maeve had no recollection of him. She frowned. "Sorry, I don't know you. And it's rude to sit down without permission."

(The final sentence, "75%;", is unclear and has been omitted.)

(The FindNovel.net advertisement has also been omitted.)