Maeve nearly choked on the pill. She quickly took a sip of water, and once the tightness in her throat eased, she cast a bitter glance at Byron. "That was ages ago. Are you still holding a grudge?"

"Then why didn't you listen to me?" Byron said pointedly. "You refused to wear a coat just to look good in the dead of winter."

"I didn't catch this cold from not wearing a coat last time," Maeve argued.

Byron's gaze grew colder. "Who else but you would even think of sleeping on the couch without a blanket in the middle of winter?"

Maeve was speechless, her defiance weakening. I didn't mean to fall asleep, she thought. I just got so wrapped up in my thoughts that I dozed off. But she said nothing more to avoid further reproach. Byron didn't press the issue. He took the empty cup from her hand and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Maeve asked, her gaze lingering on him. Perhaps it was the illness, but she felt a strong desire to cling to him, reluctant to let him leave.

Byron cast a sidelong glance at her, as if reading her thoughts. "Go back to sleep. I'll be working outside." If he works in the bedroom, she thought, I'll never get any rest today.

"Alright." Maeve pulled the blanket up and quietly settled under it.

Byron's lips curled into a faint smile as he closed the door.

Once the medicine took effect, Maeve fell asleep again. When she woke, it was dark. A wall lamp by the bed cast a warm, gentle glow. In her groggy state, Maeve figured Byron must have turned it on, perhaps afraid she would be startled by the darkness.

I'm not a child anymore, Maeve thought, her mind and emotions in turmoil. Isn't he in love with Karen? Why is he being so nice to me? His kindness felt like a drug, seeping into her bones until she could no longer resist. But she knew it was fleeting.

Perhaps he's acting out of pity, or he still needs my help with his grandfather. Whatever the reason, I must not get attached, she thought, determined to remain emotionally detached. She threw off the covers, got out of bed, and left the bedroom.

Byron is probably back at the hospital with Karen, she thought, before hearing a noise from the living room. She hurried over to find Byron standing by the window, on the phone.

He turned when he heard her footsteps, first glancing at her feet. After confirming she was wearing shoes, he hung up and said softly, "Dinner is in the kitchen. The cold medicine is on the table; take it after you eat."

For some reason, Maeve's eyes welled up. She nodded briefly and turned away, so he wouldn't notice. Even if it were an illusion, she found him hard to resist.

Halfway through her meal, Byron sat down across from her.

"Have you eaten?" Maeve asked.

"Yes," he responded flatly. "I'm not like you, sleeping like a log." He’d tried to wake her several times, but she wouldn't rouse, so he'd let her sleep. The food had gone cold, been reheated, and gone cold again.

Maeve choked. "Why the personal attack?" she muttered, lowering her head to continue eating.

At that moment, Byron's phone rang. Maeve saw the name "Karen" on the screen. Her pleasant mood vanished. She looked away, chewing food that tasted like sawdust.

This time, she wouldn't foolishly ask him to stay, nor complain. Though comforted by his care, she wouldn't debase herself. She couldn't afford to lose herself. Byron glanced at the screen, his brows furrowing slightly. Remembering Maeve's yearning look that morning, his finger hovered over the screen before declining the call.

The ringtone stopped, leaving Maeve stunned. He actually didn't answer Karen's call?

Sensing her gaze, Byron raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing..." Maeve shook her head, unable to comprehend his actions. Could it be that he doesn't want to leave me alone while I'm sick? Her heart raced.

After dinner and her medicine, Maeve said, "Mr. McDaniel, I'd like to discuss the kidnapping incident with you."

Maeve had addressed him as Mr. McDaniel countless times, but it had never annoyed Byron so much. She calls that pretty boy Alex, but I'm just Mr. McDaniel? he thought irritably.

"What do you want to say?" Byron's eyes narrowed, his voice cold.

Sensing his chill, Maeve said, "That day, I took a cab from the resort and passed out. I was kidnapped. I have a habit of noting license plate numbers, and I still remember it. Although the kidnappers were masked, I can describe their build and height to the police."

Byron stopped tapping the table and slowly lifted his head. "This matter cannot be reported to the police, and it must not be made public." He looked at Maeve, emphasizing each word.

"Why?" Maeve's eyes were filled with confusion. "How can we find those people without reporting it?"

"If the police are involved, we won't be able to keep this quiet. It would ruin Karen's reputation," Byron said quietly. "So the best outcome is to never bring it up again."

Maeve's lips turned pale. "What about me?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Does my innocence and suffering not matter at all?"

"Maeve," Byron's tone grew heavier as he saw the hurt in her eyes. "If this gets out, Karen's life will be ruined."

Maeve felt despair. Compared to Karen's reputation, the doubts and suffering I endure are insignificant. Even if I continue to be misunderstood, it won't matter to him. She understood the reason for his protection, but couldn't reconcile herself to it.

Pursing his lips, Byron said, "I'll have people investigate quietly. As long as you didn't do it, the truth will come out sooner or later."

Maeve didn't respond. She stood, her voice hoarse. "I'm going to bed."

Lying in bed, Maeve felt exhausted and powerless. She closed her eyes, trying to silence her mind.

She didn't know how much time had passed when she felt a warm presence behind her, pressing close. Strong arms wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly. Maeve began to struggle, shifting on the bed…

The final sentence is incomplete.