Archer leaned in and said, "Mr. McDaniel, I made a detailed play guide when I arrived. I've just sent it to your phone. You can take a look."

Byron nodded slightly. "Thank you."

"Not at all, Mr. McDaniel. I'll head back to the company now. Have a good day."

"Yeah."

After applying ointment the previous night, Maeve's ankle pain had lessened, though she could barely walk. This effectively excluded her from the resort's exciting activities. However, the silver lining was avoiding Byron. They rarely visited this place, so she didn't want to waste time in the hotel room. She chose a few scenic spots with less traffic and planned to take the sightseeing bus around with Theo.

After disembarking the cable car from the mountaintop, they reached Cloudhaven Lake. Mother and son rented a boat and fished while enjoying the sun.

Theo initially imitated Maeve, sitting with a fishing rod, but soon grew restless. He ran off to splash water and feed the fish, then sprawled on the boat's deck, sunbathing his chubby belly.

Maeve chuckled. Neither mother nor son noticed a lake-blue boat slowly approaching.

A father and son, dressed in dark casual wear, sunglasses, masks, and baseball caps, sat at one end of the boat. Each held a fishing rod, and both wore the same indifferent expression. Aside from one being larger than the other, there was no obvious difference between them.

"How many have you caught?" Byron asked casually.

"Only three," Will said modestly. "What about you, Dad?"

Just as they spoke, Byron's fishing float bobbed. He calmly reeled in the line and replied to his son, "This is the eighth one." Will was speechless.

Meanwhile, Maeve saw a boat approaching but could only make out two blurry figures. She looked away when a fish bit her hook. "Darling, I caught three fish! Let's have a fish dinner tonight." Maeve put away her rod and poked Theo's belly. "Let's go to Lake Island to see the roses." Theo immediately sat up. "I want to eat the rose macarons you make!"

"Then you'll have to wait until we get back. We can't pick the roses here." Maeve smiled and signaled the boatman to head for shore.

It was March, and the rose blossoms were in full bloom on Lake Island. They resembled clouds of rouge, falling beautifully and vibrantly from the sky.

As they walked, Maeve took many photos of Theo. Tired from walking, Maeve told Theo to wait under a tree while she bought drinks and snacks.

As soon as she left, Theo, seeing a tree, had a sudden idea: he would climb it! Without hesitation, the agile little guy quickly climbed to a fork in the branches.

"Wow, it's so high!" Theo's eyes sparkled as he looked down and spotted his mother in the crowd. "Mommy!" he called out.

Just then, Will arrived beneath the tree and heard the call. He instinctively looked up, only to see a face he recognized instantly—his own reflection. He looked exactly like him.

Will's eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at Theo, perched on the branch and waving at Maeve. The shock was overwhelming. Then, a thought struck him. He must be the person Dad saw. Who is he? Dad can't be having another child. Then he's... Will's usually sharp mind went blank.

Hearing Theo descend, Will quickly hid behind a nearby tree to observe. He saw Theo brushing off dirt, then, with short legs, dashing toward a figure approaching. "Mommy!" The little guy pounced and hugged Maeve's leg.

"Did you fall?" Maeve smiled, squatting down. She gave him his juice and wiped his face. "How did you get so dirty?"

Theo giggled. Seeing this, Will pursed his lips, a mix of emotions swirling within him. He walked away without looking back.

When Byron saw his son return pale-faced, he frowned. "What's wrong? Are you unwell?"

"Daddy, I'm a little tired," Will lowered his eyes, concealing his emotions. "Shall we go home?"

He does seem tired, but there's more to it, Byron thought.

Byron ruffled his hair and replied softly, "Let's go home now."

Back at the manor, Will locked himself in his room and skipped dinner. That night, he developed a low fever.

After examining him, Dr. Foster told Byron, "Mr. McDaniel seems to be overthinking. His mood swings are causing the low fever. It's a psychological issue."

"What do you mean?" Byron's eyes darkened.

"While checking his temperature, I heard him mumbling 'Mommy' in his sleep," Dr. Foster said, then stopped.

Byron's expression grew cold. "You may leave."

"Okay," said Dr. Foster.

After closing the door, Byron sat beside Will's bed. His warm hand gently covered Will's sweaty forehead.

Will stirred. His eyelashes fluttered, and he opened his eyes. "Daddy," his voice was hoarse. "Why doesn't Mommy want me?"

Is it because she likes my brother more? Or does she have problems and had to abandon me? Will wondered.

Will closed his eyes and fell asleep, unaware his words had ignited a storm in Byron's heart. His eyes were so dark they seemed to consume everything.

"No matter how mature Will is, he's still a child under five. The lack of a mother is more damaging than being abandoned. Maeve, you're truly despicable."

It was Monday. Maeve sent Theo to kindergarten before heading to the studio. However, she discovered that several clients who'd ordered custom dresses days ago had suddenly canceled. One or two would be understandable, but over a dozen seemed suspiciously coordinated.

Maeve called to inquire, but either no one answered or they gave vague excuses, refusing to explain. The more this happened, the more suspicious it became.

As if things weren't bad enough, several designers simultaneously resigned. The newly established studio seemed to have become a pariah. Maeve didn't try to retain them, instead asking if anyone else wanted to leave. Immediately, more stood up.

Maeve finally confirmed someone was sabotaging her. They'd driven away her clients and poached her designers, likely aiming to ruin her studio before it even took off. However, Maeve had no idea who was behind it. The final sentence "Search the FindNovel.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality." was removed because it is an advertisement.