Maeve's face flushed crimson. She struggled to find her words.

"Grandpa," Byron said calmly, quickly fabricating an excuse, "she was eager to see the fireworks, and she choked on some water." He stood up. "I'll take her now."

Gilbert smiled knowingly. "Good. Take Maeve and have some fun. No need to rush back."

Maeve sensed a deeper meaning in Gilbert's comment, but guilt prevented her from dwelling on it as she left the dining room with Byron.

Just as they stepped outside, the butler rushed in and whispered something to Gilbert.

Gilbert adjusted his collar and sleeves before saying, "Help me over there."

"Yes," the butler replied.

In the backyard, the lawn was dimly lit except for the small paths, making it feel vast and distant. Maeve initially insisted she wasn't interested in fireworks, but after watching Byron set off a few, she couldn't resist joining him.

Byron glanced at her and scoffed lightly. "You're just pretending. Such a contradiction."

Maeve's ears burned, and she pretended not to hear him, focusing on the sparkling glow of the sparkler in her hand. Warmth spread through her heart.

Since Horace turned three, the family fireworks had been exclusively his. The only ones she could play with were the ones he didn't want. As a child, Maeve always wished her parents would buy more, but that dream never came true. Later, as she grew older and could afford as many as she wanted, that childhood anticipation and joy faded.

Maeve turned to Byron, who stood with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a sparkler, exuding a laid-back air. Today, he deviated from his usual attire, wearing a smoke-gray trench coat over a white turtleneck sweater, softening his typically stern features. He looked like a character from a comic book.

Suddenly, Maeve wanted to capture this scene.

The sound of a camera shutter startled Byron. He turned, eyeing Maeve, who held the camera. "Are you taking a picture of me?"

Maeve smiled calmly, looking up at the sky. "I'm not photographing you. I'm capturing the fireworks."

At that moment, large fireworks were exploding throughout the city.

Byron accurately tossed a spent firework into the trash can and walked toward her. Maeve sensed trouble and turned to run, but in the next second, he pinned her shoulder against a nearby tree trunk. He grabbed her wrist, and the photo on her phone screen caught his eye.

Byron smirked. "What's this?"

Maeve's cheeks flushed. "I was actually photographing the sparkler in your hand and happened to take a picture of you..."

"Is that so?" Byron leaned down slightly, his long fingers weaving through her dark, smooth hair, lifting the back of her head. Then, slowly yet forcefully, he kissed her, reclaiming what had been interrupted in the dining room.

Just then, fireworks exploded overhead, illuminating the dark sky like falling stars. In the fleeting light, two figures could be seen by the sycamore tree, their lips locked.

Before the fireworks finished, Maeve was breathless, her legs weak. Byron lightly caressed the back of her neck, his voice thick with desire. "When does your period end?"

Hearing the implication, Maeve blushed even more. She gently touched her abdomen. "It ended a while ago, but I've been having stomach pains, so you might want to hold off for now."

Byron frowned, his palm sliding up her waist, resting near her stomach. "Does it still hurt?"

Maeve said, "Sometimes, but it's not too severe."

Byron leaned down and kissed her heavily. When he pulled away, his eyes were filled with frustration and helplessness. "Such a delicate flower."

Maeve bristled. "I'm not delicate."

Byron snickered, crossing his arms and leaning against the tree, ignoring her.

After a moment of silent fireworks watching, Maeve said, "Byron, I have a question."

"Hmm?"

Maeve bit her lip, hesitating before asking, "You said before that once Grandpa's condition stabilizes, you would divorce me. What are your thoughts now? Have you changed your mind?" Her voice trailed off.

Byron stared at her, about to respond when a servant rushed over.

"Sir, Mr. Gilbert McDaniel asked me to bring Ms. Reese to the fifth floor."

Byron asked, "Just Maeve?"

"Yes, he said he would call for you later. He wants to speak with Ms. Reese alone," said the servant.

Byron nodded. "You go ahead."

Maeve suppressed her disappointment. "Okay."

A few steps out, Byron's deep voice called, "I'll give you the answer to your question later."

Maeve's eyes brightened. "Alright." She would wait.

The servant led Maeve only to the stairway entrance, instructing her to walk to the end of the hallway and wait. Gilbert would be back shortly. "Okay, thank you."

After thanking him, Maeve walked to the room. Pushing open the door, she found it dark and smelled of blood. She felt something under her feet and, finding a touch panel, turned on the lights.

Gilbert lay unconscious in a pool of blood, his face pale. "Gilbert?" Panicking, Maeve checked for his breath, relieved to find he was still alive. She grabbed her phone to call an ambulance. Then she saw the object she had picked up earlier: a bloody fruit knife.

Just then, the door burst open. Jason shouted, "Maeve, what are you doing? What did you do to Gilbert? Are you crazy? Throw away the knife! If you do anything reckless, we'll call the police!" Jason and Alexis entered, their faces sullen with anger.

Hearing their words and seeing the knife, Maeve felt chilled and reflexively tossed it aside.

"No, it wasn't me..."

Ignoring her, Jason pushed her away from Gilbert. "Call the police. Immediately," he coldly told Alexis.

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