As the other women stopped bothering Maeve, she found some peace. She wrung out her wet clothes as best she could to avoid catching a chill. She wasn't worried for herself, but she was deeply concerned for her baby. A wave of sadness washed over her as she slowly caressed her lower abdomen.

Byron didn't want this child, but she did. Their stalemate could only end one way. Still, she couldn't bear the thought of being falsely accused and preferred enduring hardship to signing the divorce papers. She felt that staying would somehow prove her innocence, though it seemed stubborn, almost foolish. She wondered if Byron would change his mind, if he would ever trust her unconditionally. After all, Gilbert was Byron's grandfather, one of the few people who had shown Byron warmth after his return to the McDaniel family. She doubted her place in his heart was so significant that he would choose her over his family.

What was she waiting for? Ripping up the divorce agreement repeatedly wouldn't change anything. How silly she had been. A tear fell onto Maeve's wrist. She wiped it away, but more tears fell incessantly. She lay awake until dawn.

Around nine o'clock, Jonathan arrived. Before he could speak, Maeve calmly said, "Give me the divorce agreement." Stunned, Jonathan immediately produced the agreement and a pen from his briefcase. Maeve took them and stared for a long time. The settlement was certainly generous, even including Retro Apartment. After a glance, she pushed the papers back across the table. "I'm not satisfied with the compensation," she said.

Jonathan smiled. "Ms. Reese, the assets Mr. McDaniel is offering would be more than most people could hope for in a lifetime. I advise you not to be too greedy..."

"You seem to have misunderstood," Maeve interrupted. "Please tell Byron that I want nothing other than that apartment."

Jonathan's smile froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. He wondered if Maeve realized the extent of the wealth this settlement represented. How could she refuse it?

"Have you thought this through?" Jonathan asked.

Maeve nodded slightly. "Please have it revised as soon as possible, and I'll sign it."

After the meeting, Jonathan called Byron and relayed Maeve's message. There was a pause before Byron's cold voice said, "Let her be."

"Okay, Mr. McDaniel."

By the afternoon, Jonathan returned with the amended divorce agreement. Even though Maeve had prepared herself, signing her name caused her wrenching pain. Perhaps their marriage had been a mistake from the beginning. Too wrapped up in a dream, she'd ignored reality, hoping their marriage could last longer. But now, the dream was over.

After signing, a police officer informed Maeve she could leave. The women in the holding cell exchanged glances, relieved they hadn't pushed Maeve too far. Unaware of their thoughts, Maeve walked out emotionlessly, her heart numb.

It was a rare sunny day outside the detention center. Having been cooped up for so long, the sunlight and fresh air felt almost unfamiliar. As she reached the roadside, a black Bentley pulled up. Archer stepped out. "Ms. Reese, Mr. McDaniel asked us to take you to see him."

"I'm sorry, but I don't want to see him right now," Maeve flatly refused.

"It's about Mr. McDaniel Senior. It's important for you, too."

Maeve hesitated. She really wanted to know why Byron suddenly believed she was behind everything. She couldn't let it go without knowing.

After getting into the car, Maeve leaned against the window in a daze. A strange smell hit her nose. Before she could identify it, drowsiness overcame her, and she slumped into the seat.

When Maeve opened her eyes, she was in an unfamiliar place. The air was thick with the smell of antiseptic. Several doctors and nurses in white coats whispered amongst themselves, sending chills down her spine.

"Who are you?" Maeve sat up in alarm, realizing she was on an operating table. "What are you doing to me? Where's Archer?"

"Ms. Reese, please remain still," the lead doctor said. "We're about to begin your procedure."

"Procedure? What procedure?"

"An abortion, of course."

Maeve's eyes widened in horror. "How did you...? Wait, where's Archer? Did he bring me here?"

Archer entered, maintaining his usual polite demeanor. "Ms. Reese, rest assured, these doctors are highly skilled. The procedure won't take long. This is Mr. McDaniel's order."

A wave of dread hit Maeve. "How did Byron know about my pregnancy?" She wondered if he'd found the pregnancy test she'd hidden.

Archer smiled faintly. "You've underestimated Dr. Foster's abilities. Mr. McDaniel didn't confront you earlier because he wanted to give you a chance to abort this illegitimate child yourself. But you've disappointed him."

His words cut her deeply. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. "He thinks this child is illegitimate and wants it gone?"

"Yes," Archer replied. "Ms. Reese, Mr. McDaniel wanted me to convey a message: He will never allow someone as lowly and disgraceful as you to give birth to his bloodline. Otherwise, it would be the McDaniel family's greatest shame."

Maeve's breath grew shallow. Her vision blurred, and she felt herself fainting. Byron called her lowly and disgraceful, the McDaniel family's greatest shame. She never expected him to think this way. She wondered if this was the real reason he didn't want a child.

"Don't waste time. Get on with it," Archer instructed the doctor before leaving.

A nurse restrained Maeve, forcing her legs apart. They treated her like an animal, stripping her of all dignity.

"Let go of me!" Maeve struggled. "Performing an abortion without my consent is illegal! This is a crime!"

The doctor's face turned cold. "Ms. Reese, you'd better save your energy. If something unfortunate happens to you here... well, that would be bad."

Maeve felt a chill. She wondered if they planned to let her die and fake an accident. Byron was planning to kill her to pay for Gilbert's life! Her eyes burned with tears. She struggled, but the doctor moved closer, holding an anesthetic needle. Her heart clenched with such sharp pain that it felt like it might stop. She glared at the needle, powerless to stop it.

(The final promotional sentence has been removed as it is irrelevant to the text cleanup.)