The phone on the table rang suddenly. Byron glanced at the caller ID and pursed his thin lips. "Hello?"

"Byron, bring Will over for a meal this weekend. It's been too long since you've brought him," Jason's firm voice said.

Byron replied calmly, "If it's just a meal, I'll bring him when I have time."

Jason sensed something was wrong. "Why? Are you afraid I'll bite him? He's my grandson! Why would I harm him?"

Byron was frustrated. "I'm not even thinking that, why are you emphasizing it?"

Jason snorted. "Then you have no problem? Bring him over."

After hanging up, Byron rubbed his temples, lost in thought.

At Dreamscape Studio, Maeve was shocked when her clients canceled their orders. She learned they'd found a better offer, leaving her anxious and angry. She wanted to find whoever had stolen her clients. Two days later, Betty revealed the McDaniel Group had been sabotaging her business. The company had contacted her clients, offering them better deals, leading to the last-minute cancellations. In Kleymond, the powerful McDaniel family held immense influence; nobody dared offend them. Their blatant suppression made it difficult for Dreamscape Studio to survive. Maeve was furious. After their divorce, they'd agreed to at least maintain a modicum of dignity. Initially, she suspected Byron, but her understanding of him prevented hasty conclusions. However, she'd forgotten four years can change a person.

"Thank you for telling me this, Betty. I'll treat you to dinner another time," Maeve said, hanging up. She grabbed her bag and left.

Half an hour later, she arrived at the McDaniel Group's headquarters. "I'm sorry, Miss," the receptionist said politely, "you need an appointment to see Mr. McDaniel."

"Then please make an appointment for me now," Maeve said, suppressing her anger.

The receptionist's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Welcome, Mr. Bax—"

Archer, surprised to see Maeve, asked, "Ms. Reese, are you here to see Mr. McDaniel? Something seems off."

"Yes, Archer. Can you get me upstairs? I need to speak with him urgently," Maeve said.

Archer hesitated. He shouldn't decide on his own, but recalling the banquet—where Byron had emerged from the changing room with a bite mark on his lip, and Maeve had also been upstairs—he guessed something had happened. Weighing the pros and cons, he took Maeve to the top floor. He intended to report first, but Maeve went straight to Byron's office and pushed open the door. She was about to confront him when she saw Byron sitting at his marble desk with a young woman beside him, her hand on his shoulder. Lynn looked slightly pouty, suggesting intimacy. Maeve sneered inwardly. He'd wrecked her studio and was now cavorting with another woman. "Bastard!"

Byron frowned, quickly removing Lynn's hand. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing?" Maeve scoffed. "After what you've done, you should expect this. Why play dumb?"

"Seriously, why barge in and provoke me? Maeve, haven't you had enough?"

"Haven't I had enough? I should be asking that! Byron, I thought you were a gentleman. But you're despicable!" Maeve's face flushed red with anger. She was furious at his feigned ignorance.

"Ms. Reese, please calm down," Lynn said smoothly. "You can't solve this by yelling. Aren't you being impulsive?" It was a thinly veiled insult, intended to embarrass Maeve.

Maeve's lips twitched. "Excuse me, who gave you the right to speak?"

Lynn looked at Byron pitifully. "Byron, I was trying to ease the tension. Why is she so rude? I meant well."

Maeve was speechless. 'My goodness, she's such a slut!'

"Maeve, watch your words," Byron warned coldly. "Who gave you the right to yell at me?"

Seeing his defense of Lynn, Maeve sneered. "After what you did, I'm lucky I didn't hit you! We settled things four years ago. We owe each other nothing. What right do you have to destroy my studio? If you're unhappy, say it. Don't use such pathetic methods!"

"We owe each other nothing?" Byron's face hardened, remembering her stubborn refusal to keep their child. "Think again."

Lynn's eyes widened. Maeve, momentarily disappointed at what she perceived as an admission, looked at Lynn and felt a pang of irony. Then, she noticed a resemblance between Lynn and herself. Her body stiffened. The realization hit her hard, reopening old wounds. Byron had never considered her special; she was just another plaything.

"Byron, knowing you will be my biggest regret," Maeve said coldly, hiding her self-mockery. She turned to leave, while Byron remained impassive.

"Byron, Ms. Reese has a bad temper," Lynn said. "A girl should be more refined. Don't you think so?"

Moments later, Byron looked up. "Is that so? I don't feel anything."

Lynn bit her lip. "Aren't you angry she yelled at you? And why were you so cold when I tried to clean your shirt?" Before Maeve's arrival, Lynn had spilled coffee on Byron's shirt. He'd rejected her help, treating her coldly for the first time. She was unused to rejection.

"You can't even pour coffee. Don't do it again," Byron said, ignoring her question. "This is a workplace."

The final sentence is incomplete and lacks punctuation. The entire passage needs a thorough copyedit to address inconsistencies in tense and style.