Byron was instantly in a good mood, though his handsome face remained impassive. "Go ahead," he said indifferently.

Maeve asked seriously, "Is it really an accident that the evidence related to the kidnapping case was destroyed?"

"Well," Byron replied.

After a few seconds of silence, Maeve's puzzled expression deepened. "What... what do you mean by 'well'?"

Byron raised an eyebrow. "You may ask, but I may not answer."

Perhaps still dazed from waking, Maeve was stunned for a few seconds before recognizing the audacity in his words. "So you're just going to dodge my question?"

Byron was amused by her confusion. He chuckled softly, leaning closer. "If you want an answer, you must offer something of equal value in exchange. I don't do pro bono transactions."

Their proximity was intense; Byron was still positioned to carry her. As he lowered his head, his warm breath brushed her cheek, sending a shiver down her spine. She tried to pull away from the intimacy, but his hand on her lower back stopped her.

Maeve's eyelashes trembled. Meeting Byron's deep gaze, her heart pounded wildly. Finally, she managed, "I don't have anything I can exchange right now..."

"Who says you don't?" Byron lifted her chin, his slightly rough fingers pressing against her lips. The implication was clear.

Maeve's lips heated, her nerves tingling. She wasn't sure, but she asked, "What do you mean?"

Byron smiled, the gloom in his eyes dissipating. He lowered his head, pressing his forehead against hers, his gaze intensely focused. "You don't understand? Then let me make it clear. I want to kiss you. Is that okay?"

Maeve's eyes widened; her face flushed crimson, spreading to her ears. Her heart beat so rapidly it felt numb. She barely registered when Byron began to kiss her. She'd kissed him before, but never with this overwhelming, uncontrollable feeling.

Even knowing the apple pie might be poisoned, she'd warned herself against it, yet she'd fallen for him.

The hazy light illuminated her petite figure on the couch, Byron's powerful body pressing above her. The air crackled with intensity. Maeve's tongue throbbed; breathless, her fingers weakly clung to Byron's forearm.

At the kiss's peak, Byron pulled back slightly, their foreheads touching, his gaze unwavering. "Maeve," he murmured, his voice husky and captivating, "do you like roses?"

Maeve panted, confused by the question. "Yeah, I guess," she said hesitantly.

The tenderness in Byron's eyes vanished. He cupped her reddened cheek, warning in a low voice, "You're not allowed to like roses anymore. Do you hear me?"

Even more confused, Maeve wondered if kissing induced stupidity. What grudge did he hold against roses?

"Fine. I'll stop liking roses," she mumbled. "Can I like peonies?" Surely, he couldn't forbid peonies.

Byron seemed to sense something. He kissed the corner of her lips, murmuring, "Why peonies?"

Unable to resist, Maeve bit her lip, turning her head before answering, "I told you before, I worked as a gardener in college. The courtyard was filled with peonies; they were beautiful. I used a picture as my phone wallpaper for a while. I fell in love with them." She omitted some details. Before that, she'd faced troubles at school, financial hardship, and had been at her lowest point. The gardening job had been a lifeline, and the peonies a source of comfort. Even if not particularly fond of flowers, peonies were her automatic response.

Byron studied Maeve's innocent expression with mixed emotions. He wanted to explain but decided to let her discover the truth herself.

"Can you answer my question now?" Maeve asked, raising her head. "Does the destruction of the evidence have anything to do with you?"

Byron narrowed his eyes. "Why are you asking? Do you suspect me?"

Maeve pursed her lips, silent.

A phone rang.

Byron frowned, turning to see his expression freeze. He stood, going to the French window. "Hello?"

Karen's anxious voice filled the receiver. "Byron, save me! It's dark and scary. There are terrifying noises. I can't take it anymore!"

Byron looked up, his gaze falling on Maeve's reflection in the window. His voice was harsh. "I gave you a chance. You should know how to use it."

Karen sobbed. "You can't do this to me! This place is terrifying. I can't stay here..."

"How can that be?" Byron said calmly. "Maeve was there for two days and nights. You've only been there two hours. You should be able to handle it."

Karen's spine chilled. Locked in the basement, she still couldn't comprehend why Byron had imprisoned her. Hearing his admission, disbelief washed over her. He'd done this for Maeve!

Karen sobbed, "Do you still remember what you promised my father? How could you do this to me?"

"If it weren't for Patrick, you'd be at the police station now," Byron said, his gloom deepening.

"I... I was being set up!" Karen cried, begging for mercy. "Can't you forgive me? What we had for years isn't comparable to two months with Maeve? I met you first. If your grandfather hadn't interfered, I would have been your wife. Maeve is just a nobody!"