Maeve's heart sank. "So it's not a coincidence?"

The destroyed evidence and the bodyguard suddenly taking the blame weren't coincidental. "In all of Kleymond, I'm afraid only the McDaniel family could pull this off," Alex sighed. "And as far as I know, Karen—the one who kidnapped you—and the McDaniel Group's CEO were childhood sweethearts, very close. If Gilbert hadn't objected, Karen would almost have become the CEO's fiancée." It was understandable that the McDaniel family would protect Karen. With their relationship, this matter was destined to remain unresolved.

Maeve was dazed, forgetting to answer. Alex, sensing her silence, felt guilty. "Maeve, I'm sorry I can't give you the justice you deserve."

Maeve came to her senses. "Alex, you don't have to apologize. I'm grateful for your help. Besides, it's not our fault." The person at fault knew Karen was wrong but still protected her.

After hanging up, Maeve stared at the screen, dazed. Recalling Alex's words about Karen almost becoming the McDaniel Group's fiancée, her heart ached, as if plunged into ice water.

She wondered, No wonder Byron liked Karen so much but didn't marry her. No wonder he agreed to my sudden "proposal" the second time we met. Therefore, every time he chooses between me and Karen, he chooses Karen without hesitation.

"Ms. Reese? Ms. Reese?" The old butler's voice broke through her thoughts. "What's wrong?"

"It's cold. You'll catch a cold. Why don't you go back to your room?" the butler said kindly.

Maeve shook her head. "I want to go back. Could you take me to the gate?" It was so dark last night she hadn't noticed where the car came from.

The butler looked troubled. "But Mr. McDaniel instructed Dr. Garcia to treat your face twice daily. If you leave now…"

Maeve had almost forgotten about the wound on her cheek since it hadn't hurt last night. "Can't the doctor just give me the medicine? I'll apply it myself," she asked hesitantly.

The butler smiled and shook his head. "Dr. Garcia said the medicine's effectiveness decreases if left for too long; he prepares it only when needed. The treatment will take several days. I hope you understand."

Maeve couldn't press the issue; he was clearly looking out for her. "Thank you. I'll stay a little longer."

"It's our pleasure," the butler replied.

After lunch, Anthony arrived to treat Maeve's wound. The ointment preparation alone took nearly forty minutes, dazzling Maeve. She abandoned the idea of self-application; it was clearly a job for a professional.

An hour later, after washing off the ointment, Maeve sat while Anthony examined her. "The infection rate is under control, but the toxin hasn't been completely expelled. Occasional pain is normal. Don't worry," Anthony advised. Maeve's eyes widened. "Toxin? Isn't my wound infected by bacteria?"

Anthony's expression changed, realizing his slip. "I have something else. I'll return tonight. Goodbye." He grabbed his first-aid kit and hurried out.

Maeve wanted to ask more, but the old butler entered carrying an exquisite box.

"Ms. Reese, Mrs. McDaniel sent this. A thank-you gift from the Chatterly family," the butler said.

Recognizing Charles's family, Maeve was momentarily stunned. After thanking the butler, she took the box to her room. Inside was a sapphire jewelry set, its beauty undeniable. Even those uninterested in jewelry would appreciate its brilliance. Maeve, a fashion designer who often worked with expensive jewelry, was accustomed to such pieces. Still, she wasn't in the mood to admire them. Anthony's words, "The toxin hasn't been completely expelled," filled her mind. The wound hasn't healed because I was poisoned? Why did Byron lie and say it was a bacterial infection? She pressed the box, her breathing quickening. Is he doing this for my sake, or…is he trying to protect someone?

Late that night, Byron returned to the villa, handing his coat to the butler. "How did it go?" he asked in a low voice.

"As instructed, all roses have been replaced. Ms. Reese has rested in her room all day. Dr. Garcia visited twice. Mrs. McDaniel also sent the Chatterly family's gift," the butler reported respectfully.

Byron frowned. "Did I ask about her?" He didn't care what Maeve had done.

"I'm sorry, I spoke too much," the butler mumbled.

"Never mind. Rest now," Byron said.

"Yes, Mr. McDaniel," the butler replied.

Byron went upstairs, pausing at his bedroom door before heading to his study. By the time he finished company business, it was 12:30 a.m. He pressed the bridge of his nose, rested, then went to his bedroom for clothes and a shower. Reaching the door, he gently pushed it open. Maeve wasn't in bed; a figure curled on the couch.

Byron frowned and approached. Maeve lay on her side, her small form asleep, her cheeks flushed. He remembered a time he'd returned home drunk, and Maeve had waited for him, preparing soup. His aloof expression softened. She was well-behaved when asleep.

He leaned down, carefully lifting her.

Maeve awoke, startled by the handsome face. "When did I fall asleep? When did you get back?"

Byron tightened his embrace, gazing into her eyes. "Have you been waiting for me?"

"Yes," Maeve replied, meeting his gaze. "I needed to ask you something."