Maeve nearly choked on Byron's words, her eyes widening slightly as she turned to him. "What do you mean?"

"Literally," Byron said, looking directly into her eyes, a smirk playing on his lips.

The atmosphere in the restaurant was tense for a moment. Maeve's gaze shifted to the black card. She suddenly grasped the meaning of his words and laughed aloud.

"So, in your eyes, marital relationships can be bought with money," she mocked. "And you might be mistaken about one thing. I'm short on cash, but I won't sell myself for it."

Byron raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it just a matter of mutual benefit?"

"But I don't need your card," Maeve shrugged. "I can earn money if I need it."

"You'd rather take from others than accept mine?" Byron's gaze turned icy. "Should I commend you for your integrity?" He wondered if she thought using his mother's card was less burdensome than taking his.

Maeve met his gaze fearlessly. "At least what I earn is rightfully mine." She glanced at the white roses in the vase. "And if you really wanted to take our relationship to the next level, what's in front of me—even just a rose—is better than that card." She wouldn't be anyone's means to an end.

Byron's lips pressed together; his eyes were sullen as he looked at her. The dinner ended on a sour note.

Maeve returned to her room, grumbling about how utterly ridiculous Byron was. She thought, I earn my living through hard work, never stealing or robbing, so why is he so angry? He offered me a black card to buy me, and I wasn't even mad about it. She wondered, What did "mutual benefit" even mean? If he was so unsatisfied, why not go find Karen?

Just then, her phone chimed. She opened it to find a text from her assistant, saying the remaining fabric had been procured and asking if she was free for a call to discuss it. A video call would have been better, if not for the constant glitches in Maeve's chat app, which kept crashing unexpectedly. Maeve replied with a simple "Okay" and walked over to the window seat with her phone.

Meanwhile, in the study across the house, the glow from the computer illuminated the man's cold, handsome face, highlighting his sharp features and the thin silver glasses perched on his high nose. His lips were barely tinted. To an outsider, it might seem he was handling important international affairs. But the screen displayed a search interface. The search bar read, "What does it mean if a woman won't take your money but accepts someone else's?" Thousands of replies likely appeared below this question:

• [She doesn't love you. Move on.]
• [Is your relationship so clear-cut? She probably doesn't love you at all.]
• [Have you considered that what you offered isn't as good as what others give?]
• [Hey there, you might need to consider finding a new girlfriend.]

As he read the top-voted replies, Byron's face darkened. He thought, Have these people ever seen how devoted Maeve was to me? What bullshit are they talking about!

Byron coldly closed the search interface, pressing his fingers against his temples. He suddenly recalled Maeve's words, "Even just a rose." He picked up his phone and sent her a message:

Byron: [Do you like roses?]

Maeve was likely looking at her phone; her reply came quickly. But after he read her response, Byron's expression turned icy.

Maeve: [I like the roses Alex gave me.]

The mouse in Byron's right hand cracked, the sharp edge digging into his palm. Blood seeped out and dripped onto the dark red desk. Behind the thin lenses, his dark eyes were clouded with gloom. He thought, Did she really mean it?

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Byron casually tossed the broken mouse into the trash bin. His voice was cold as he replied, "Come in."

Archer entered, noticing the boss was wiping blood from his palm with a handkerchief. He paused. "Mr. McDaniel, are you hurt? Do you need me to call a doctor?"

"What is it?" Byron asked.

"You asked me to investigate something, and we have results." Archer placed a folder on the desk. "The investigation materials regarding the first kidnapping case were destroyed, not by accident, but by your father. I wasn't sure how to handle it, so I came to ask you first."

Byron's gaze sharpened slightly. "Go on."

Archer nodded. "The kidnapper in the first case insisted that Ms. Reese hired them to harm Ms. Booth, but the recordings and records he provided have all been verified as fakes. We used a polygraph on him, and oddly enough, he didn't lie."

Byron squinted. "Why was he locked in the basement with Maeve?"

"He believes he was retaliated against by the victim, which is why he dragged Ms. Reese into this..." Archer suddenly understood. "The 'victim' the kidnapper referred to could only be Ms. Booth." It was self-incrimination.

Byron slowly wiped the blood from his hands. "Tomorrow night, bring Karen to that abandoned villa."

"Understood," Archer said.

The next day, after Maeve came downstairs, she noticed the atmosphere in the villa felt strange. The fresh roses that had adorned various corners the previous night were gone. Their original spots hadn't even been replaced with new vases, making everything feel empty. Maeve felt puzzled, but since she was giving Byron the silent treatment, she held back from asking. Breakfast passed in silence.

After breakfast, Byron stood up, picked up his coat, and as he walked out, coldly instructed the butler, "Remove all the roses from the house. I don't want to see any of them tonight."

"Yes, sir," the butler replied respectfully.

Holding her glass of milk, Maeve was taken aback. "Did the roses offend you?" she muttered softly. Thankfully, she wasn't a rose fanatic; she preferred peonies.

Byron's expression grew even colder as he strode out of the dining room. After he left, Maeve remembered she needed to go to work and hurried to catch up. By the time she reached the door, Byron's car was just passing by, without stopping. Maeve watched the black car disappear, feeling an inexplicable sense of loneliness. She thought, Did he just leave me behind like that? Wasn't he the one who wanted to bring me back? What did this mean?

The butler stepped out, handing her the phone she had left on the dining table. "Ms. Reese, you have a phone call."

"Thank you," Maeve managed a weak smile. She took the ringing phone. "Hello? Alex?"

"Maeve, I'm sorry," Alex's voice sounded unusually serious. "It seems we won't be able to continue investigating the kidnapping case."

Maeve froze. "What happened?"

"My friend just told me the evidence was destroyed, and Karen's release was all orchestrated by the McDaniel family," Alex said.

The final section, "SEND O GIFT," seems out of place and unrelated to the narrative. I have omitted it.