Chapter 415

When the lights were turned on, the room was empty. Byron entered with heavy steps, his indifferent gaze sweeping over the two small pillows on the bed. It was clear the children had been clinging to their mother during his absence; their sleeping things were all there. Conversely, none of his belongings were present. Byron's brows furrowed, a tightness inexplicably constricting his chest. He noticed Will's exercise book on the table, topped with the recording pen Will used to record his daily life—a birthday gift from when Will was two, rarely left behind. A sudden intuition told Byron this was deliberately left for him.

He picked up the pen and pressed the switch. The default setting played the last recording. Will's soft voice filled the room. "Mom, do you still like Dad?"

Byron was startled. His breathing grew uneven, shallow then deep. Then, Maeve's gentle voice answered, "Yes, I like him. I've always liked him. Let me tell you a secret. Mom's first love was your dad. Perhaps because of this, my feelings for him have never changed. I don't think they will change in the future either."

Byron's breath hitched. Maeve liked him. She had always liked him. And it wouldn't change.

He sat on the bed's edge, covering his eyes. His ears, visible beneath his black hair, flushed red, the color spreading to his neck. He pressed replay. Again. And again. He listened countless times, to Maeve's affection, never spoken face-to-face. The sweetness from her voice seeped into his heart, threatening to overwhelm him.

After a long time, Byron stood. He intended to replace the pen, but instead, pocketed it. He glanced at Will's schoolbooks and sacred texts, forgotten on the table. Picking up the sacred texts, he accidentally knocked over a vase while separating them from the textbooks. It shattered with a sharp crack.

Byron frowned, remembering Maeve's anxiety about the vase. Images of similar antique replacements flashed through his mind. Then, a stack of origami papers under the fragments caught his eye.

A glint of darkness flashed in Byron's eyes. He picked up the water-stained, yellowish papers. The top sheet read: Pregnancy Test Report of First Hospital.

Was this why Maeve was so nervous about the vase?

Byron's relaxed expression tightened. Though not a doctor, he'd read extensively on the subject after Maeve's pregnancy years ago. These reports seemed wrong.

He photographed them and sent them to Ray.

Ray: [Damn it! Do you have to be this capable? How long has it been since Little Mae got pregnant again??]

Byron: [No. Help me see what's wrong with these reports.]

Ray: [Brother, I'm a surgeon, not a gynecologist! Forget it, forget it. Wait a moment. I'll get the gynecologist next door to help take a look.]

Ray: [Byron, I remember that you and Little Mae only have Will as a child?]

Byron: [Be straightforward.]

Ray: [These reports show that she was clearly pregnant with twins!]

The report showed a date four years prior. Byron's eyes darkened. The gynecologist's description, forwarded by Ray, registered, but the word twins dominated his thoughts. Maeve had been pregnant with twins. One was Will. What about the other?

A surge of anger rose in Byron. He let out a low, cold snort. "Maeve, you're really good."

She'd hidden it so well.

What is she trying to do by hiding my child?

He clenched the reports, his knuckles white, then turned and strode out. Ray, worried by the silence, called.

The fact that Maeve was hiding a child was unexpected. If he were Byron, he'd be furious.

Byron left the apartment, his phone in hand. The door closed with a gust of cold air, mirroring his cold reply.

"What else can I do? Of course, go and catch them."

On the other side of the world, in the capital of Erancia, Maeve and the children enjoyed their first night under Laren's hospitality. The next day, he took them sightseeing. The children played, Maeve photographing them. She was starting studies at Trazir headquarters soon and wanted to spend time with them beforehand.

Laren got along wonderfully with them, accommodating their antics. He was almost childlike, a far cry from his usual demeanor at the weapons factory. Maeve felt like she was with three children. After playing, they were sweaty, and she wiped them down one by one.

Laren, watching, felt his heart skip a beat and dutifully lowered his head.

"Why are you like them?" Maeve smiled, wiping his sweat. "All done."

Loren's heart swelled. "Sister Maeve, you're so nice."

Maeve patted his hair, giving him a balloon. "Each of the little kids has one. You take this one too. It's getting late. Let's go back quickly."

Loren, largely alone since childhood, had a strained relationship with his family. Only Maeve treated him with such affection. He considered her a sister.

Looking at the balloon, Loren grinned foolishly. Will, noticing, whispered to Theo, "Why does Uncle Loren look not so smart?"

"His IQ is all focused on weapons research," Theo whispered back. "Don't look at him like this. He made all the small cannons under my pillow. And he only acts like this in front of people he's close to."

Will sighed. Haven't you cleared out the things under your pillow yet?