Mr. Nelson, I came to get some fresh clothes for Byron. Which room is his?" A soft, sweet voice called from outside the dining room, causing Maeve to pause mid-bite. "Hmm? Why are the lights still on in the dining room?" Lynn asked curiously, walking in. Her gaze immediately locked with Maeve's.

Maeve, taken aback, asked, "Who are you?"

Lynn feigned ignorance. "Who are you? Why are you in my fiancé's house?"

The word "fiancé" pierced Maeve's heart like a sharp blade. The memory of a news headline flashed before her, and her face paled. "You are Byron's fiancée?" Maeve asked.

Lynn tilted her head playfully. "I'm Lynn. And who might you be, Miss?"

Hearing the name, Maeve was stunned. Lynn, L.A.—the initials on a sketch Byron had made as a child... Could it be her?

Damian Nelson, the butler, approached with a warm smile. "Miss Anderson, you're here!" Seeing Maeve, he explained, "This is a guest of Mr. McDaniel, staying here temporarily."

Lynn offered Maeve a sweet smile. "Oh, I see. Byron is really kind-hearted. Don't be too reserved; treat this place like your own home. I have something to do, so I'll be leaving now."

Lynn left with Damian, leaving Maeve with a vanished appetite. For her child's sake, however, she finished her food before heading upstairs.

Damian stopped Maeve at the master bedroom. "Ms. Reese, Miss Anderson is inside packing Mr. McDaniel's clothes. Could you wait a moment?"

Maeve smiled faintly. "Is Byron going on a business trip?" She remembered his fastidious nature; he disliked anyone touching his belongings, discarding anything even accidentally brushed.

"Perhaps," Damian answered vaguely.

Maeve lowered her gaze. "Of course, they're getting engaged soon."

Seeing Maeve's expression, Damian lowered his voice. "Ms. Reese, Miss Anderson and Mr. McDaniel have known each other since childhood; their relationship is... special. He doesn't want you two to meet, nor does he want her to know about your past with him. Miss Anderson isn't in the best of health, and Mr. McDaniel worries about her. He's concerned you might upset her. Do you understand?"

Maeve understood but disagreed. "This is Byron's issue. What does it have to do with me? I don't think I have any obligation to help him pacify his fiancée." If Byron believes I'll upset Lynn, that's his problem. If he wants me to stay quiet, he should tell me himself, not his butler.

Damian's expression darkened slightly. He gave Maeve a deep look but said nothing.

Waiting for Lynn, Maeve went to the study. On the desk, she saw a photo frame and another sketch—this time, of Lynn as a teenager, looking younger and more innocent. Sketching each other, framing the drawings, placing them in important rooms... No one would believe they aren't in love. And what about me? Just a fleeting amusement? Maeve avoided answering.

Leaving the study, she overheard Lynn and Damian.

"I know she's Byron's ex-wife, but she's in the past. What matters is Byron and I. Besides, I don't think Byron cares much about her. Otherwise, he wouldn't have divorced her the moment I came back," Lynn said, her tone innocent yet cruel.

Damian smiled. "You and Mr. McDaniel have known each other for over twenty years. Of course, she could never compare."

"I'm leaving now. Byron's still waiting," Lynn said.

"I'll walk you to the car," Damian replied.

Their voices faded. Maeve emerged from the shadows, her face pale. Lynn's words pierced through Maeve's avoided questions. Why did Byron divorce me so quickly? Why his firm attitude? Why no chance to prove myself? Deep down, I've always known the answer. I just didn't want to believe it. I refused to accept he left me for another woman.

Two weeks passed. Byron never appeared. Had Maeve not seen the news about his engagement party, she might have believed he was on a business trip to Italy. She didn't want to see him, but she needed to leave. Her medication was running out.

Finally, the staff took a break. Maeve locked herself in her room, fashioned a rope from bedsheets, and climbed out the window. As she jumped, she fell into Byron's arms.

The familiar scent of cedar sent a chill down her spine. She tried to escape, but Byron held her. "Maeve, are you trying to get yourself killed?" he growled.

He carried her back inside. Damian froze at the sight. "Mr. McDaniel, this..."

Byron's icy gaze swept over him. "What were you all doing? You didn't even notice her jumping out of a window?"

He ordered Damian and the guards punished before taking Maeve to the master bedroom. His anger warred with something else. Instead of throwing her on the bed, he gently set her down, gripping her chin. "What were you trying to do? Escape? Or..." His gaze fell to her stomach, a chilling aura surrounding him.

The text has been cleaned up for grammar, punctuation, and style. The repetitive use of "Maeve thought" has been reduced for better flow. The strangely formatted text about the website has been removed. Some minor wording choices have been altered for clarity and impact.