With no change in his expression, Will deleted Theo from his game's friends list and instructed the driver, "Let's go home."

"Alright, Mr. McDaniel," the driver responded.

At the fashion show, Maeve, seated in the middle as the judge with the most weighted votes, chatted casually with the other judges. They didn't look down on her for being young. A woman chosen as the royal family's chief designer at her age was definitely not to be underestimated.

After the show, Maeve was immediately surrounded by a group of admiring girls.

"Ms. Reese, I really like your designs, especially the celebratory dress you designed for the queen. I can only dream of owning it!"

"Me too! Our school's design teacher even used it as an example in our lecture. He said you're a rare talent and asked us to learn from you."

"Have you considered taking on private orders? I have a red-carpet event next month, and I'd love to commission you."

"Me! Me! I also have an award ceremony to attend!"

A faint smile touched Maeve's lips. "I don't have such plans at the moment. If I do, I'll inform everyone. Thank you for liking my work."

Most fashion geniuses possessed strong personalities, often considered arrogant, especially toward those outside the industry. Therefore, the girls were charmed by Maeve's gentle nature.

After a while, Maeve felt suffocated by the crowd. "What a sweet burden," she thought.

"Ms. Reese, dinner's about to begin. Shall we go together?" the judge Maeve had been speaking with called out. "It's just upstairs."

Maeve nodded. "Alright, I'm coming."

Extracting herself from the crowd proved difficult. Her gown was slightly messy, and a lipstick mark marred her arm—a souvenir from an overenthusiastic fan. In the elevator, she tidied herself up.

"Ms. Reese, you're incredibly popular! Socialites and celebrities are usually aloof, but this is unprecedented," the judge said, smiling.

Maeve chuckled. "Maybe it's easier because we're all women."

"By the way, another important guest is arriving—the show's organizer and investor. I'll introduce you."

"Thank you," Maeve replied.

They reached the open-air booth.

"Ms. Reese is finally here! I thought those girls would never let you go!"

"I'm a handsome man, but not as charming as Ms. Reese. I'm ashamed!" The other judges laughed.

Maeve smiled, but then felt a sudden chill, as if targeted by a predator. Goosebumps erupted across her skin. She looked around but found nothing amiss. Only when the judge beside her urged her to sit did she compose herself.

"I'm sorry I'm late," a gentle voice announced.

Maeve turned and met Alex's gaze, stunned. "Alex?"

They smiled, surprise evident in their eyes.

After dinner, Maeve left early, followed shortly by Alex.

"There were too many people; I couldn't ask," Alex said gently. "Maeve, how have you been these past few years?"

Maeve's eyes crinkled. "I'm fine. How about you?"

"I... I've been alright," Alex replied, suppressing his longing.

Outside the hotel, they seemed to reconnect. Alex offered to drive her back, asking her to wait while he fetched his car.

From the corner of her eye, Maeve saw a black Bentley. A slender figure leaned against it, a cigarette smoldering in his fingers. The smoke obscured his face, yet she felt his gaze. The familiar coldness spread through her—Byron.

She felt rooted to the spot. He glanced her way, then quickly extinguished his cigarette.

"Byron, sorry I kept you waiting!" A woman ran to him and embraced him.

Maeve, her fingers stiff, walked on, pretending not to see him.

Suddenly, her phone rang. A text from Theo: "[Mommy, save me! I'm on the west side of the parking lot. A bad man is chasing me!]"

Maeve's chest tightened. She turned and ran toward the parking lot.

As she disappeared, Byron pushed the woman away.

"Lynn, you're not young anymore. Don't always behave like that."

"Like what?" Lynn asked innocently. "I'm just used to it."

"It's better not to have bad habits," Byron said.

Lynn pouted. "I can't change. Just bear with me."

Byron's phone vibrated. It was Archer.

"Mr. McDaniel, I'm in security. I know who punctured your tire," Archer said nervously.

"Who?"

"I... I think it was the young master... The surveillance video is malfunctioning!"

Byron frowned. "Seriously? Are you sure it was Will?"

"It only shows him approaching your car, but the camera malfunctioned..." Archer stammered.

"Just get someone to send a car," Byron said.

"Yes, sir."

Lynn, overheard, was surprised. "Will has a mischievous side? He's usually so quiet."

"It might not be Will," Byron said. "Even if it was, I'll let him play in the manor's garage."

"Byron, you're a good father," Lynn smiled. "I wish I could be Will's mother."