Chapter 525

"He thinks I'm Molly?" Maeve's voice was a strangled whisper. "No," she rasped, the word a sharp denial. She wouldn't be anyone's replacement. Not even his.

Byron's face fell. His grip on the medicine bowl tightened, green veins pulsing on his hand. "How could it not be you, Maeve?" He hadn't doubted until he heard her. Sight and sound could deceive, but the intimacy they'd shared couldn't lie. Or so he'd thought.

"Are you sure?" His eyes, dark and unreadable, bore into hers.

Maeve lowered her gaze, masking her bitterness with fatigue. "If I hadn't left, you would have called security. Do you think I'm cheap?" He'd likely hurried her away, seeing her as an inconvenience. A hindrance to his plans. He’d wanted this engagement broken. He’d probably been planning it for a while. The bitterness choked her. She closed her eyes, unable to bear his gaze any longer.

Byron remained rigid, his jaw clenched. A heavy weight settled in his chest, darkening his eyes. Finally, his numb arm forced him to move. He focused on Maeve, a decision hardening his gaze. "Maeve. Open your eyes. I need to tell you something."

She didn't move, her breathing shallow. He couldn't tell if she was asleep. A moment of doubt flickered—should he keep it from her? But his pride wouldn't let him.

Before he could speak, she opened her eyes, her gaze steady. "I've thought it over. Let's cancel the engagement."

His expression shifted. He’d intended it as a test. "Is that what you really want?" he asked, a new sharpness in his eyes.

Maeve’s lips tightened. "Yes."

A cold smile touched his lips. "Very good." He set down the bowl and rose, his presence looming over her. "When I've made arrangements, the engagement will be annulled."

Maeve frowned. "Haven't you already? Why—"

"We've been engaged less than a month. Annulment will cause a scandal, damaging McDaniel Group's reputation," he stated coldly. "I need time to mitigate the impact."

His logic was unassailable. A chill settled in her heart. She'd gambled on his feelings, and she'd lost. Company interests, reputation—they came first. Always. Just as they did for her.

"I understand," she whispered, hiding her face in the pillow. "I'll move out when the apartment's renovated. I'll transfer the rent tomorrow."

A cold mockery flickered in Byron's eyes. "No need. I don't need your 'breakup fee.'"

The term stung. She waited, expecting him to leave, but he remained. He picked up the medicine bowl.

"Why aren't you leaving? I'm trying to sleep," she rasped.

"Drink the medicine," he said flatly. "I don't want people saying I abused you after we break up."

She silently took the bowl, the bitter liquid burning her throat. "It's bitter..." she murmured, a familiar ritual missing the sweet candy that usually followed. This medicine was unbearably bitter.

Byron watched her impassively, his arms crossed. "Drink it all," he ordered when she hesitated.

"It's too bitter…"

"Do you want me to force you?"

Her eyes welled. His coldness was unbearable. She drained the bowl, the thud of it on the table echoing the finality of their break.

"Satisfied now?"

He left without a word. Alone, Maeve curled into a ball, the sorrow overwhelming. He’d said so little, yet it had shattered her. How would she endure this?

Outside, the children hadn't slept as instructed. They waited, small figures huddled together. Byron stopped before them. "Make the medicine less bitter tomorrow," he said, his tone flat.