Jeff wouldn't let go, trying to force his way through the door. His tone was sinister. "Because of you, my life has been a living hell. How are you going to make it up to me?"

It had been a long time since he'd last seen Maeve. Her family couldn't help her, and Jeff, having long wanted revenge, had finally found her. Leaving so easily wouldn't be an option for him.

"Let go!" Maeve shouted, her wrist throbbing. She pushed against the door, her face reddening with exertion. Suddenly, she felt hands pull her shoulders back.

She was forced to release her grip, and Jeff, with a smug expression, entered the apartment.

"Do you think you can run away—" Mid-sentence, Jeff received a brutal kick to the abdomen, sending him sprawling. He hit the ground with a resounding crash that startled Maeve. She swallowed, her gaze involuntarily falling on Byron, who was walking past her with a cold expression.

His dark windbreaker fell just below his knees, and his slim suit pants highlighted his leg muscles.

It was a poor time to notice this, but Maeve recalled how, every time they kissed, he would trap her legs between his, preventing her from moving. He was extremely domineering. Her heart pounded, her palms growing hot. For a moment, she forgot her fear.

Outside the door, Jeff was sweating profusely from the pain. He cursed, "Fuck, who the fuck are you?"

Byron walked out, one hand in his pocket. His shiny leather shoes landed on Jeff's chest, applying significant pressure.

Jeff's face instantly paled. He heard his ribs cracking and tasted blood. Reality hit him; he looked at Byron with fear. His broken wrist throbbed anew. Why is this guy here? he thought.

"Stay away from her," Byron said, his gaze condescending and cold. "You'll break more than a few ribs if I see you again."

Byron withdrew his leg, and Jeff choked. Despite the agony in his chest, he scrambled toward the elevator.

Byron turned and re-entered the apartment. Seeing Maeve leaning against the wall, dazed and flushed, he asked in a low voice, "He's just a weakling. Why are you scared of him?" Embarrassed by her recent thoughts, and afraid her eyes would betray her, she avoided his gaze.

"N-No, I'm not scared of him. You're here to protect me, right?" Maeve stammered.

"Then what are you scared of?" Byron's sharp gaze seemed to penetrate her. "Just now, your hand was shaking so much you couldn't even hold the doorknob."

Her reaction was excessive; Jeff wasn't the only reason. Besides, I'm here for her. There must be something else, Byron surmised.

Maeve held her breath, the blush slowly receding. She pressed her lips together, remaining silent.

Byron didn't press her but watched her quietly.

"Mr. McDaniel, you seem very interested in other people's past relationships," Maeve said, attempting to appear relaxed. "But I'm under no obligation to satisfy your curiosity, am I?"

"Don't change the subject," Byron said, seeing through her ploy. "It's not too late to call yourself someone else after our divorce."

Maeve choked. He's mentioning divorce now? He can't wait to get rid of me, she thought resentfully.

Feeling bitter and angry, she retorted, "We are getting a divorce anyway. Aren't you afraid your future wife will be jealous if she finds out you're so curious about my past?" A fleeting smile touched Byron's eyes. Maeve, are you jealous?

"I'm doing this for your own good," Maeve said with a forced smile. "Besides, haven't you already guessed there was something between me and Jeff? Why do you have to ask?"

"I want to hear it from you," he insisted.

This bastard isn't easily fooled, she thought. She hadn't even told Bonnie about it. That was the main reason Maeve feared Jeff.

After dating for a while, Jeff had revealed his true nature. If Maeve disobeyed him, he'd become furious. Once, waking in the middle of the night, she'd found Jeff standing by her bed, staring at her with a murderous gaze.

He'd accused her of having an affair, questioning why she'd mentioned breaking up. He'd even said it would be better for her to die before she could "cuckold" him. During a struggle, she'd accidentally cut him, and he'd used that to coerce her back into the relationship. She hadn't dared mention breaking up since.

The memory of those dark days tightened her throat. Telling Byron would be devastating; he wouldn't feel sorry for her. She didn't want to use it to gain his pity, so she kept it a secret.

"Forget it. I'm not interested in your relationship with another man," Byron said, his voice low and deep. "You won't see him again. Get him out of your mind."

Maeve blinked, unsure how to feel. Before she could reply, Byron released her. He checked his watch. "It's getting late. Lock the doors and windows. Bye." Maeve was stunned. She should have felt relieved, but her hand instinctively grasped his windbreaker as he left.

"W-Wait," she whispered.

Byron turned. "What's wrong?"

Maeve was flustered. "Didn't you just say you wanted to sleep here? You even said this bed is more comfortable than the one at the manor."

"I've changed my mind," Byron said lightly. "Besides, I have no reason to stay."

That's not what you said, Maeve thought with dismay. After a moment, she said, "You said we weren't planning to separate. If you leave now, we will be separated, right?"

"If I remember correctly, you insisted on moving out and living separately," Byron said with a faint smile. "Why? Are you regretting it?"

Maeve gritted her teeth, nodding vigorously. "Yes, I regret it. Now I fully understand how lucky I am to be able to live with you."

Half an hour ago, she would never have imagined asking Byron to stay.

Damn Jeff. Why would a trust fund kid live in such an ordinary place? And right across from me, she thought angrily.

Byron snorted softly. Little liar. She really thinks I don't know why? She's afraid of being alone here at night.

He removed her hand from his windbreaker and walked to the living room. "What are we having for dinner?"

Maeve sighed in relief, carefully locking the door. She followed him. "You can eat whatever you want," she answered.

With Byron sleeping in the next room, I'm not afraid of Jeff. Byron alone could take down ten men like Jeff, she thought happily.

It was bedtime. Maeve dried her hair and lay down. The next second, there was a bang, followed by a shaking sound. The bed collapsed.

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