Maeve kicked John in the groin. That was her answer.

"Oh no!" John shouted in pain, his voice changing tone as he twisted his legs and clutched himself, twitching on the floor. Maeve seized the opportunity to escape, but unexpectedly bumped into a wall upon opening the door. A sharp pain shot through her nose, and tears welled up. "Maeve?"

Touching her sore nose, Maeve blinked through her watery eyes when she heard a familiar deep voice. A handsome face appeared. Her heart skipped a beat. Taking two steps back, she stared. "Byron?"

"Why are you here?" Byron looked past her into the changing room, pausing a moment on the moaning John. "What's going on?"

Maeve bit her lip. "I came here to change, but this man barged in and treated me like a cleaner. He even tried to force me to sleep with him. Then he got rough, so I kicked him."

"He barged in while you were changing?" Byron's expression turned cold. He glared at John as if he were dead.

"No, I'd already changed," Maeve replied.

Byron's expression remained unchanged. He called someone. Within five minutes, Archer arrived with bodyguards and dragged John away.

"Mr. McDaniel, what should we do with him?" Archer asked respectfully.

"Throw him out. Don't let me see him in Kleymond again."

"Will do," Archer replied.

After the bodyguards left, Byron noticed Maeve staring at Archer and felt a pang of displeasure. "Why are you staring at Archer? Is he very good-looking?"

A cold sweat broke out on Archer's forehead. He wondered why Ms. Reese was staring. Had he done something wrong? Was his hair too neat? He was handsome, after all.

Maeve hadn't realized Archer was Byron's subordinate, not a colleague. She'd simply glanced at him a few times. There was no need for explanation.

"These are my eyes. I can look at whomever I want," Maeve said calmly. "I'm going down now, Mr. McDaniel. Please help yourself."

Archer was shocked by Maeve's boldness and broke into a cold sweat. The last person to speak to Mr. McDaniel like that was in serious trouble.

Byron didn't seem annoyed. Crossing his arms, he said coldly, "Are you planning to go down in a cleaning uniform?"

Maeve realized she was still wearing it. She stopped, a little angry.

"Who did you come with?" Byron asked.

"Alex. Is that a problem?" Maeve replied instinctively.

Byron smiled faintly. "He brought you here in those clothes?"

"The gown I was wearing had wine stains. The waitress gave me this uniform. What does it have to do with Alex?"

Byron's eyes were filled with mockery. "Have you been with him for the past two days?"

"So what if I have?" Maeve answered.

"Maeve, have you forgotten my warning?" Byron's voice became emotionless, his aura more oppressive.

Archer immediately moved to prevent anyone from approaching, protecting the secret of his boss's relationship with a married woman.

Maeve didn't answer, calmly returning to the changing room. Byron's eyes turned cold. He strode forward, lifted her, and carried her to the sofa.

"What are you doing?" Maeve's legs dangled as she clutched his jacket in fear.

Byron didn't answer, throwing her onto the sofa. He cupped her face, leaning over. Maeve tried to rise, but he held her down. "Byron McDaniel, what exactly do you want!"

"I should be asking you that," Byron lifted her chin. "You were so needy with your fever, and I cooked porridge and cared for you. Then you just left? Maeve Reese, I've never seen such a heartless woman."

He had even bought her favorite cake to appease her, only to return to an empty house—the terrace bare, the sofa without pillows. He'd originally planned to teach her a lesson, but he reconsidered. Spoiling her only made her more disrespectful.

Maeve's chin hurt from his grip. She frowned. "Didn't I take care of you when you were injured? We're even."

"Well said," Byron scoffed. "You want to draw a clear boundary?"

Maeve didn't answer; her eyelashes fluttered. In Byron's eyes, it was agreement. He pinched her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Maeve, do you really want to settle the score with me one by one?"

Maeve clenched her fists, shaking her head silently. The debt was long settled. Ever since Byron had protected her in the Maybach, everything had been chaotic.

Byron's expression softened. He thought of their last call. "Does giving the apartment to Karen Booth affect you that much?"

Maeve looked up. "I was stupid before. It's your property. You can give it to whomever you want. Even if you promised me after the divorce, I have no right to interfere. I don't mind anymore. I've chosen a new property. I won't go back."

Her voice was calm, without complaint. Byron felt a sudden pressure in his chest. "You think the house I gave Karen was the one I promised you?"

Maeve frowned, unsure. Could it be that the gift for Karen wasn't...

Byron realized the cause of her distress. He laughed angrily. "Maeve, who told you I'm giving our apartment to Karen?"

The doubt cleared, Maeve was stunned. "Isn't that... isn't that so?"

"I don't think I ever said that," Byron said lightly.

The final sentence is incomplete and grammatically incorrect in the original. I've omitted it as it's unclear what was intended.