A flash drive with her name engraved on it? Maeve thought. Her heart skipped a beat, and a sinking feeling crept in.

"I won't be going in," Archer said respectfully, handing her the flash drive on a necklace, cushioned in a handkerchief. "Please pass this to Mr. McDaniel." Maeve hesitated before accepting it. "Uh-huh."

When she returned, Byron casually asked, "Was that Archer who stopped by?"

Maeve nodded, placing the flash drive in front of him. "He asked me to give this to you. He said it was recovered from Karen and that it might have something to do with me." Byron lowered his gaze to inspect the flash drive. When he noticed the name "Maeve" engraved in red, his handsome face hardened slightly.

"Is there a computer around?" he asked.

"Yes, in the living room," Maeve replied.

Byron was about to get up when he saw Theo quietly peeking in their direction. His eyebrows lifted slightly. "Had enough? Go back to bed."

"Only pigs sleep right after eating," Theo grumbled, jumping off the chair. "I'm going to play with Leo for a bit before bed." I definitely am not sleeping with the candy thief tonight! he thought.

The door to the children's room clicked shut behind him.

In the living room, Maeve watched with growing apprehension as Byron plugged the flash drive into the computer. "Do you think it's going to be... private photos of me that Karen stole?" she asked uneasily. Her eyes darted around the apartment, wondering if someone might have secretly installed a hidden camera. It had happened before, and she couldn't help but worry.

Byron was about to open the only folder on the drive when he paused at her words. He patted the spot beside him, gesturing for her to sit down. "I'll close my eyes. You can check it first. If it's something like that, just delete it."

Maeve bit her lip, then nodded, sitting beside him. On the screen, the folder opened to reveal a single video.

Maeve's heart raced. She glanced at Byron, who was leaning back on the couch with his eyes closed, keeping his distance from the computer. Gathering her courage, she clicked on the video. The screen was black at first. After a couple of seconds, a cacophony of muffled, hurried voices and the sounds of someone suddenly waking and struggling filled the air. "Who are you? What are you doing to me? Where's Archer?" It was Maeve's voice.

"Ms. Reese, please don't move. We're going to do surgery for you right away," a doctor said.

"Surgery? What kind of surgery?" Maeve asked.

"An abortion, of course," someone replied.

The screen lit up sharply, merging the image of Maeve being held down on the surgical bed with the Maeve sitting on the couch. Her eyes were just as terrified as they were in the video. The darkest memories she'd buried deep in her mind were laid bare before her.

The stinging smell of antiseptic seemed to fill the air, choking her. Expressionless doctors and nurses surrounded her, and Archer smiled. "You underestimate Dr. Foster's skills," he said. "Mr. McDaniel didn't expose you before because he wanted to give you the chance to remove this unwanted child yourself, but you really disappointed him. Mr. McDaniel asked me to pass along a message: he will never allow someone as lowly as you to give birth to his bloodline. It would be the greatest shame for the entire McDaniel family."

Hearing this, Byron's eyes flew open, his dark, narrow gaze filled with seething hostility as he stared at the computer screen, as though he wanted to burn a hole through it.

The video had only played for about ten seconds, but it had already sent shockwaves through the living room. The abortion, Archer's cruel words, and Maeve's frightened, ghostly pale face on screen were quite a shock. She struggled desperately, but the nurse held her down firmly, her pitiful whimpers numbing. Then, in a final act of desperation, Maeve leaped from the window.

Byron's heart nearly stopped. His back tensed, and he swallowed hard. That was until the sudden crash of a nearby glass of water.

Byron snapped out of it and turned his head. Maeve's face had drained of all color. She was gripping the corner of the table, trying to stand, but she had knocked over a glass of water. Her hand slipped, and she collapsed to the floor. Byron immediately moved to help her up.

"Don't touch me!" Maeve shrieked, recoiling violently. Her voice was hoarse and raw.

Byron's outstretched hand froze. He watched her trembling body, and it felt as though a giant hand had clenched tightly around his heart. All those unexplainable doubts from the past suddenly had an answer.

He took a deep breath, his voice low and steady. "Maeve, listen to me."

Maeve's ears were filled with the voices from the video, and the image of the doctor's anesthetic needle flashed before her eyes. The same sense of powerlessness washed over her. She thought she had forgotten, but she remembered everything.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit her hard. Maeve stumbled to her feet and rushed to the restroom. "Bang!" The door slammed shut.

Byron sprinted after her, but he was a step too late. With a deep frown, he knocked on the door. "Maeve, open the door. Let's talk."

Maeve slumped to the floor, retching, her body trembling with chills. Her stomach twisted painfully. It hurt so much. She wanted to vomit everything—the bile and the terrible memories. Her eyes reddened, and she heaved violently. Exhausted, she sank to the cold tiles, her gaze unfocused and empty as she stared at the ceiling.

The knocks on the door grew sharper. Byron's voice lowered. "Maeve, please open the door. Don't lock yourself in. I can explain this. It's not what you think. Maeve?"

The silence that followed seemed to dampen the movement outside. Maeve buried her face in her knees. Just then, she heard a key sliding into the lock. The handle turned, and the door opened.

Maeve lifted her head weakly. Before she could make sense of what was happening, she was enveloped in a wide, warm embrace.

"Let go! Let go of me!" Maeve struggled, pounding her fists against him, her eyes red with frustration. She tore two buttons off his shirt, her nails leaving bloody streaks on his chest. Byron's arms tightened around her, unyielding. He let her claw and tear at him, never letting her go.

"Maeve, I'm sorry for everything you've had to endure," he said, his voice low and husky. What he said wasn't chicanery; it wasn't useless comforting or hypocritical words. She could sense that he was truly sorry. Could someone like him even feel sorry for anyone? she thought.

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