She would be no one's substitute, no matter how much she liked him. If he mentioned Karen's name, she would leave immediately. She would not pester him.

Maeve pursed her red lips, anxiously awaiting Byron's answer. After a long wait, just as disappointment set in, she heard the man behind her say casually, "A stupid little girl." Maeve's cheeks puffed up. Who was stupid? And she wasn't a little girl!

Just as she was about to retort, he kissed her again, silencing her. She fell into his broad, warm embrace, accepting the deepening kiss. The cinema's hazy light made them blush and their hearts race. A scent sweeter than popcorn filled the air.

After the movie—which seemed to teach him a lesson—ended, Maeve chose another, carefully checking beforehand to ensure it lacked strange plots. This time, it was a pure romance. Maeve sighed with relief.

However, soon Byron realized the woman in his arms had fallen asleep. Her breathing was light and even. He picked her up and left.

When the butler saw them, he started to speak, but Byron stopped him with a look. Afterward, the butler looked worried. Maeve was very good; the servants liked her. The butler sighed.

In the master bedroom on the third floor, Byron placed Maeve on the bed and covered her with a blanket. His hand lingered before gently caressing her. A vibrating phone interrupted this rare moment of warmth.

Byron took his phone to the floor-to-ceiling window. "What is it?"

"Mr. McDaniel, I've identified the racer who robbed Ms. Reese," Archer said respectfully. "It's strange, so I'm reporting to you late."

"How so?" Byron asked in a low voice.

"The racers were high school dropouts, friends of Ms. Reese's brother, Horace. They admitted Horace paid them to rob Ms. Reese."

Archer detailed Horace's school troubles, his borrowing tens of thousands of dollars from thugs, skipping classes, fighting, and gambling debts. Archer would not have believed a young man would rob his sister for money if he hadn't investigated personally. A sharp glint flashed in Byron's eyes. "Is Horace an adult?"

"No, three months away."

"Send him to the reformatory until then," Byron said coldly.

"Yes, sir," Archer replied.

After hanging up, Byron stood silently before the window, his eyes mirroring the night sky. His handsome face was expressionless, but anger surged within him. Her situation was worse than his own when he'd first returned to the McDaniel family.

After a long time, he returned to the bed, lifted the blanket, and lay beside Maeve. He gently wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her head, and sighed. She didn't need that kind of family; she had him.

The next morning, Maeve awoke unaware her attacker was in the reformatory. In the mirror, the scabs on her face had fallen off, leaving slightly red skin, but no scars. Overjoyed, she jumped twice before her ankle protested.

After washing, she went downstairs to Byron, leaning toward him at the dining table. Byron raised an eyebrow at her proactive approach. A morning kiss? That was bold.

Putting down his coffee, he kissed her plump lips, even sucking them gently. The servants looked down. Maeve was stunned, then blushed. "Why did you kiss me?"

"Didn't you ask?" Byron asked. "There are others present. Be more reserved."

Maeve's eyes widened. "I showed you my healed face, not asked for a kiss!"

Byron didn't believe he'd misunderstood; he thought she was shy. He looked at her face. "One side was injured, why are both red?" Maeve clenched her fists. Don't you know who did that? she thought. After a long pause, she spoke hesitantly. Byron noticed her hesitation. "What is it?"

"We agreed I'd stay until I recovered. I'm almost healed. Sorry for the trouble," Maeve said hesitantly.

"Ungrateful?" Byron's expression turned cold. "Maeve, how can you be so ungrateful?"

Confusion clouded Maeve's eyes. "I didn't mean that! I haven't been home in a month. I don't know about my vegetables..." Seeing his coldness, she faltered.

Byron interrupted calmly. "It's your decision. No need to explain."

Leaving as soon as she recovered seemed heartless. But staying longer would be worse. She needed to leave on her own terms.

Maeve remained silent, eating quietly. Half an hour later, Byron sent her to the company intersection, dismissing the car immediately. Maeve felt a sudden sense of loss. Was he angry?

Her phone vibrated. It was her mother—missed calls and texts, undoubtedly about Horace. Ignoring her, Maeve entered the company.

All day, Maeve felt listless. In the afternoon, she saw Finesse Bloom's website post: "[The gown has been delivered to Princess Elvira of Erancia. The princess is very satisfied. Everyone can look forward to the live broadcast of the state banquet the day after tomorrow.]"

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