Byron was tall, with long legs that the sofa couldn't fully accommodate. Maeve chuckled inwardly. "You're asking for it," she thought. "I told you not to stay here. Are you so afraid I'll hurt Will?" The entire building belonged to him; he had plenty of other places to live.

"That's all I have," Maeve said deliberately. "Mr. McDaniel, if you can't get used to it, you can go back to your place and pick up Will tomorrow. I guarantee he'll be fine." Byron looked up and replied slowly, "I'm afraid I'm going to let you down. I've lived here longer than you. How can I not be used to it?"

"Then," Maeve said, putting on a fake smile to end the sarcastic exchange, "good night." She turned and went to the master bedroom, intending to visit the children's room after Byron fell asleep. But if he found out, it would be over.

Unexpectedly, the door opened again, and Byron walked in. Maeve was startled. "What are you doing?"

Byron looked at her lazily. "Get my clothes. I'm taking a shower."

"Why in my bedroom?" Maeve didn't understand. She watched him walk to the wardrobe and open a bottom drawer to retrieve his clothes. The master bedroom's built-in wardrobe was large, but Maeve hadn't brought much luggage; half of it was empty, and she'd never opened the bottom drawer. This man, she thought resentfully, had given her the apartment but still treated it as his own.

Maeve gritted her teeth. "Mr. McDaniel, you gave me this apartment four years ago, right? Shouldn't you pay rent for staying here?"

"Rent?" Byron took his clothes and approached her casually. "The company hasn't been doing well lately. I'm afraid you won't easily earn money unless I pay with my body." Maeve froze.

This man was shameless and had no bottom line. Previously, the McDaniel Group's senior management had undergone a major restructuring. Most of the power had been transferred to him, after which the company successfully launched its new energy project, reaching a new level. Its value had increased dramatically—news of this was everywhere online. Even she, inattentive to business, had heard about it. Yet, to avoid paying rent, he claimed his company was struggling.

"Mr. McDaniel, do you think it's appropriate for a billionaire to pretend to be poor to avoid a small amount of money?" Maeve gritted her teeth. "At most, I'll give you a 10% discount, considering we were once married." Byron looked at her with dark eyes. "Ms. Reese, you may misunderstand me. I've always been thrifty. I don't spend a cent unnecessarily."

"Thrifty? Ridiculous!" Maeve scoffed. "A man who buys expensive smart machines just to do housework hardly qualifies as thrifty!" Even his suit cufflinks were custom-made, worth millions, and he never wore a pair twice. That was the antithesis of thrift! She barely recognized the word.

Byron raised an eyebrow, his eyes filled with amusement. "Ms. Reese, why do you remember what happened four years ago so clearly?"

"My memory is excellent," Maeve said impatiently. "Just pay the rent! Why are you always taking advantage of me?"

Byron remained calm. "I only accept one method of repayment. Think carefully. When you decide, you're welcome to collect your payment." His thin eyelids lifted, his gaze flirtatious.

Maeve trembled, her eyelashes fluttering. She felt she might be consumed by his gaze. The payment he meant wasn't what she’d expected. Her cheeks burned. She bit her lip in frustration.

Four years ago, she'd been hurt by this man. Why was she repeating her mistakes? And he was about to be married! How could he seduce her like this?

Thinking of Lynn, Maeve felt immense fatigue. "Byron, have you forgotten you're about to marry Miss Anderson?" she asked, looking up at him. "Since you're about to be married, please leave me alone. This is unfair to her, and disrespectful to me." They were divorced, but sometimes his attitude made her forget that.

Byron frowned slightly. Seeing her serious expression, he explained softly, "She and I... there won't be a wedding."

Maeve was stunned, then felt like laughing. "Are you kidding me? You can't fool me!"

"It's none of your business," Maeve turned away indifferently. "Who you marry is your concern, but I don't appreciate you bothering me when you have a fiancée. I don't want to be part of your relationship." She felt bitter as she finished. Byron's eyes darkened. "Maeve, you don't believe me?" Maeve didn't answer; the answer was clear.

Byron said nothing more. He turned and left her bedroom. Maeve bit her lip. Her tense shoulders relaxed, as shadow enveloped her.

After showering and waiting for the living room lights to go out, Maeve quietly slipped into the children's room. The two little ones were asleep, their heads together, small hands lightly clasped. Their sleeping faces were peaceful and adorable. Theo was sprawled out, his chubby legs on his brother's stomach, occasionally smacking his lips—perhaps dreaming of snacks—almost nibbling on Will's ear. Will, much more reserved, slept soundly, unaffected by his brother's antics.

Looking at them, Maeve felt a wave of tenderness and wonder. If she was right, the Theo she knew before should be Will. Twins were the closest yet most different beings; that was why she'd overlooked the unusual... (The passage ends abruptly here.)