Horace was scheduled to take the college entrance examination next year. Valda worried, "If he gets a criminal record, how will he get a good job, let alone go to university?" She continued, "That boy's family is demanding 100,000 yuan in compensation for a private settlement. But you know our family's finances… perhaps even 20,000…" Her voice trailed off, her troubled expression directed at Maeve.

Maeve sensed something amiss. Frowning, she asked, "If the boy bullied Horace first, why not check the school's surveillance footage? Why compensate his family?" She glanced at Horace, who was still eating unconcernedly. "And I can't tell he's been bullied." She mused that given Horace's temperament, it seemed unlikely anyone could bully him.

Horace rolled his eyes. "I have strong fists, and that weakling hit himself. It's not my fault!"

Maeve's expression darkened. "How can you be so self-righteous? Dad and Mom spend over 200,000 yuan a year on your private school—and you fight?" Horace slammed his fork on the table, chin raised. "So what? Jealous? Dying of jealousy because they didn't send you to a private school? Tsk." He kicked his chair aside and stormed to his room.

Valda quickly stopped him. "You've barely eaten! This will give you a stomachache." Only the slam of his door answered her.

"Horace is unbelievable," Valda sighed, yet her face held a doting expression rather than blame.

Maeve almost laughed. "Mom, you're spoiling him! If you don't correct his behavior now, you'll regret it later."

"He's young," Valda insisted. "It's a normal rebellious phase. He'll behave. Besides, Maeve, you can't let your brother get arrested. You have to help him."

Scott considered this. "You've been working—you must have more than 100,000 yuan saved. We need it for this emergency."

"If that's not enough, ask your husband," Valda added. "We're family."

Maeve's hands clenched on her knees. "Aren't you going to ask my opinion?"

Valda was surprised. "Do you have a problem with this? He's your brother. Will you just watch him be prosecuted?"

"He's your only brother," Scott emphasized. "You're blood-related; you should always look out for him."

Maeve's parents constantly reiterated, "He's your only brother." Since Horace's birth, this had been their refrain. As the older sister, she was expected to yield to Horace, regardless of her wishes. Because he was the only son, Scott and Valda favored him, believing Maeve should always give in. But no one asked if she wanted to. She craved their favor but received it only when Horace needed her to clean up his messes. She wanted no part of it.

Maeve's lips tightened, tears welling in her eyes. "I treat Horace as a brother, but does he treat me as a sister? In his eyes, I'm just a cash cow and an outsider. He's not worth my help." She stood, looking at her parents grimly. "I'll wire you legally mandated living expenses. Nothing more. Don't contact me." They hadn't even visited her during her hospitalization; she didn't need them.

She grabbed her bag and left the dining room. Scott shouted at her to stop, but she ignored him, walking out of the house with a straight back. Valda chased after her, but Maeve was already gone. Valda despaired, wondering how they'd compensate the family without Maeve's money.

Outside, the night wind chilled Maeve's shoulders as she waited for a ride-share. A motorcycle swerved toward her, and she dodged, but the rider grabbed her bag. The strap caught on her elbow, but he dragged her for a distance before she let go.

"Ah!" she screamed, her face paling. Her wrist was injured, and her ankles were scraped.

"Maeve!" Byron's voice called out. He rushed to her side, checking her injuries. "What happened?" His tone was dark and hostile.

Maeve, eyes red with pain, explained that racers had stolen her bag, which contained her gown design. Byron, noticing her dislocated wrist, offered to help.

The pain caused Maeve to cry out as Byron reset her wrist. She questioned why he hadn't waited for her to prepare. He explained that waiting would have resulted in a broken wrist. He lifted her into his car to tend to her injuries. The sight of her bloody socks and wounds enraged him. He asked if she was in pain.

(Note: I removed the repeated promotional text. Also, there was a slight inconsistency in the text regarding Maeve's bag. I made the most logical correction.)