"You're pregnant?" Byron's tone was cold and menacing as he stared at her in the dim light. His gaze was as dark and deep as an abyss, sending chills down her spine. Maeve's heart skipped a beat. She thought, I knew he wouldn't let me go, I just didn't expect him to show up so soon.

With a hoarse voice, Maeve met his gaze unflinchingly and taunted, "So what? This is my child. It has nothing to do with you."

Byron's expression darkened. "Nothing to do with me? You wouldn't be pregnant without me! How dare you…" His words trailed off. He thought, Abort it without my consent?

"It's in my body!" Maeve's voice, sharp with hatred, interrupted him. The helpless despair she'd felt on the operating table surged back.

Her gaze, filled with resentment, fixed on Byron. "Byron, we are divorced. You have no right to interfere in my affairs, including this child!"

"Maeve, say that again," Byron exclaimed.

Maeve stubbornly raised her chin. "Even if I say it a hundred times, it'll still be the same! This is my child, and it has absolutely nothing to do with you. I don't need you meddling in my business!" The thought of waking up on that operating table again, crying for help that never came, was unbearable. She couldn't endure the pain of almost losing her child a second time.

Suppressing the suffocating feeling in her chest, Maeve pleaded, "Byron, for the sake of what we once had, I beg you, please let me go."

'Let her go?' Byron contemplated, his jaw clenched, the warmth in his gaze fading. He silently reasoned: I never liked children, but I didn't expect Maeve to dislike them even more. She's even willing to beg me just to get rid of this child. Or perhaps… she simply doesn't want to bear my child!

With that thought, Byron grabbed Maeve's chin. His voice was icy and dangerous. "Do you think that's possible?" His mind raced: This is my child too. How dare she say no as if I don't have a say in this? Did she ever consider my opinion?

Maeve's eyes reddened. "I promise I'll stay far away from you in the future. You'll never have to see me again. This child…"

Hearing her say, "Never see you again," a surge of fury rose in Byron's chest. He yelled, "Maeve, dream on!" He coldly withdrew his hand, straightened, and ordered, "Send someone over immediately and take her to the manor."

Maeve's eyes widened in fear. She gasped, "What are you planning to do now?" Why is he taking me there? she panicked silently. She was on the verge of breaking down.

After being taken to Byron's manor, her movement was restricted to the master bedroom. Two bodyguards were constantly stationed at the door, blocking her whenever she tried to leave. A maid checked on her hourly. How is this any different from house arrest? Maeve thought, fuming. If Byron were in front of me now, I might not be able to resist biting him.

"Ms. Reese, it's time for your meal," the maid said mechanically, pushing a small cart into the room and placing the food on the table. Frustrated, Maeve asked, "Has Mr. McDaniel returned? How long does he plan to keep me locked up here?"

The maid remained silent, refusing to answer. Maeve stopped wasting her breath and left the food untouched. She contemplated: Dr. Foster is highly skilled. I can't let my guard down. What if Byron put something in the food to cause a miscarriage? I wouldn't even have time to cry if that happened. He's already had me drugged and sent to the operating table once. Who knows what else he's capable of? Her nose stung with suppressed emotions, but she had no outlet for her frustration.

The entire day passed, and Maeve ate only the fruit in the room. Dr. Foster checked her condition and reported to Byron (still in the hospital), "Mr. McDaniel, Ms. Reese's pregnancy is unstable, and there are signs of a potential miscarriage. The most important thing is to avoid emotional fluctuations and strenuous activity and ensure proper nutrition. If she continues to refuse food, the child may…"

Byron's gaze darkened. "She hasn't eaten anything all day?"

Dr. Foster replied, "Yes. Ms. Reese's constitution is weak. If this continues, it will cause significant harm to both her and the child."

"I understand," Byron said before hanging up and calling the master bedroom.

Maeve was lying on the pillow, planning her escape, when the phone rang. Byron's cold voice echoed through the receiver. "Maeve, what kind of game are you playing? Is starving yourself supposed to be fun?"

Maeve was stunned. "Don't you already know? How long are you planning to keep me locked up here? We are divorced. What right do you have to treat me like this?"

Byron's tone hardened. "Because I am the father of your child. Stop playing these tricks, or I can't promise what I'll do."

Maeve reminded him, "I've told you this is my child, and it has nothing to do with you. Does any of this make sense to you?"

Byron asked, "Do you really have to go against me?"

Maeve almost laughed. He wants to get rid of my child, and I'm not supposed to resist? Does that even make sense? "So what if I am? You'd better let me go, or I can't guarantee what I'll do either."

Fury surged in Byron's chest. Does she really not want to keep this child? Or is it because she thinks having this child will make it harder for her to find another man? "Maeve, don't even think about it! I'm warning you—if you keep up this hunger strike, I won't hesitate to come back and feed you myself!"

Maeve sprang up, cursing, "Byron, you bastard!"

"I've never claimed not to be. Feel free to try me," he replied.

Maeve was at a loss. She bit her lip, desperately searching for a solution. He was about to get engaged to another woman. There was no way he was acting out of concern, so why was he so insistent on her eating properly? She was more inclined to believe that he didn't want her child to become an obstacle to his future marriage and would stop at nothing to get rid of it. With her current abilities, she couldn't win against him head-on.

"Byron, I don't trust you. Unless you agree to let me go downstairs and cook for myself, I won't touch the food they bring me," Maeve declared. Byron laughed coldly. "Suit yourself." He hung up.

Maeve pounded her fist on the pillow. After a while, there was a knock. "Ms. Reese, Mr. McDaniel said you may go downstairs but are not allowed to leave the villa."

Maeve pressed her lips together. Has he really let me go, or is he just planning something else? She couldn't afford to let her guard down. The consequences would be too severe.

Maeve went downstairs and made herself a bowl of noodles, washing every ingredient thoroughly before cooking.