Maeve wanted to stop him, but abandoned the idea, fearing it would arouse Byron's suspicion. However, inaction risked Harold's arrival and the exposure of the truth. Caught in a dilemma, cold sweat beaded on her forehead.

For a moment, she considered telling Byron. At worst, they would divorce, and she would retain custody of the child. But she ultimately held back.

Just then, Maeve saw something in the kitchen; a bright white light flashed before her eyes. Byron returned from his call. Seeing Maeve still in the kitchen, he frowned.

"If you're not feeling well, go outside and wait. Someone will bring you food later," he offered.

"Did you call Dr. Foster?" Maeve asked.

"Yes," Byron replied.

Maeve forced a smile. "I'm much better now. It's not good to trouble Dr. Chen so late at night," she said.

Byron looked pale. "If you ate healthy meals on time every day, you wouldn't be in this situation," he said. Maeve choked back a response and walked to the living room.

Half an hour later, Harold arrived with his medical kit. "Mr. McDaniel, I'm sorry I'm late; there was a traffic jam," he explained.

Byron nodded slightly. "Please examine her. I'm concerned her stomach ailment has worsened," he said.

"Alright," Harold replied, approaching Maeve. "Ms. Reese, please extend your hand."

Maeve's heart leaped. Secretly clenching her sleeve, she glanced at Byron, who stood beside her, and hesitantly placed her hand on Harold's small pillow. Harold examined her pulse; a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes. He checked her pulse again, then again. Byron frowned and asked in a low voice, "What do you think?"

Harold remained silent for a long time before replying, "Ms. Reese's pulse is unusual. I can't detect any problems at the moment."

Maeve breathed a sigh of relief. Her fingers, gripping her sleeve, had turned white. Noticing Harold's suspicious expression, she said deliberately, "Is it because I just vomited and my pulse is weak? Your skills are exceptional; how can you find nothing?"

Harold descended the stairs. "That's a possibility. Ms. Reese, please describe your current physical condition," he explained.

Maeve's eyes flickered. She couldn't consume more medicinal cuisine, let alone take medication casually. After considering, she concealed part of her illness, telling Harold she was highly sensitive to the smell of medicinal herbs; eating medicinal cuisine intensified her nausea. Byron glanced at her. "Isn't it because I'm angry?" he asked.

Maeve smiled awkwardly. "That's a contributing factor, but not the primary reason."

"Your condition is rare," Harold said. "If medicinal cuisine is counterproductive, I suggest prioritizing nutritional supplements. The effects will be slower, but more ideal for your recovery."

"Thank you, Dr. Foster," Maeve murmured. The weight on her heart lifted. Harold gave her ten supplement prescriptions and left. At the apartment door, Byron called out.

"Mr. McDaniel, is there anything else?" Harold asked.

Byron paused, then asked in a low voice, "Is Maeve pregnant?"

Harold considered Maeve's pulse. "Ms. Reese's pulse is weak, primarily due to her stomach ailment. I don't believe it's related to pregnancy." A weak pulse rarely disappears completely; however, Maeve appeared well, making the situation puzzling. Harold wouldn't state his findings without certainty.

The doubt in Byron's eyes dissipated. "Yes, it's been hard on you," he said understandingly.

Overhearing from the entrance, Maeve turned pale. Byron had indeed suspected her pregnancy; otherwise, he wouldn't have privately questioned Harold. Fortunately, he seemed convinced otherwise.

Maeve pursed her lips and locked herself in the washroom. She removed a small apple she'd been concealing under her arm. During her part-time work at the Chinese Medical Hall, she'd learned from an old doctor how to conceal her pulse by placing an object under her arm. She'd successfully deceived Harold. However, the method had a severe drawback: after five minutes, the arm tissue would begin to necrose.

Fortunately, she'd relaxed immediately after Harold took her pulse, resulting in only mild soreness. Maeve looked down at her flat abdomen.

"What if I can deceive Byron for a while? What happens when the pregnancy is more advanced? What will I do then?" She couldn't expect Byron to change his mind, nor could she sacrifice her child to preserve her marriage. She saw no solution.

The next day, on the 21st floor of Eternal Hope, Maeve intended to apologize to Alex, but he was absent.

"He's called in sick," Leah said, handing Maeve a document. "You're free this morning, so take this information to his house."

Maeve was stunned. "Me? Is that appropriate?" she asked.