Maeve pursed her lips and slowly turned to remove her shirt. When Byron saw the dark red skin on her back, his eyes darkened. "Do you need me to take a picture to assess the burn?" he asked, forgetting about the ointment. She, too, had forgotten.

From his words, Maeve realized the burn hadn't healed; it might even be worse. Stunned, she said, "I don't feel any pain anymore..."

"A fool's senses are often weaker than those of an ordinary person," Byron replied.

Seeing her silence, he lowered his eyes, said nothing more, and squeezed some ointment onto her wound. The ointment's coldness contrasted sharply with his warm fingertips. The dual temperatures caused Maeve's body to tense; she bit her lip. He applied the ointment much slower than before, making the itch more noticeable.

Maeve sensed something was wrong, but couldn't pinpoint it. Finally finishing, she jumped up from the sofa, avoiding Byron's gaze. "I... I'm going back to my room!" she said, fleeing. Byron smiled, watching her go, then replaced the ointment.

For the next few days, Maeve was busy making clothes, visiting several shops to choose materials and rewriting the pattern based on the modified design. It was time-consuming. The weekend arrived quickly.

As they reached Maeve's house, Byron received a call from Archer. Guessing it was work-related, he asked Maeve to go ahead with the gift. Thinking it was his boss, Maeve muttered to herself, "His boss is nice, but he's ruthless with his employees. No rest on a Saturday!"

She retrieved the gift from the backseat. "Answer the phone. I'll go up first," she said.

Byron nodded. "Yes, it won't be long." Maeve left.

Archer's voice came through the phone: "Mr. McDaniel, there's a problem with the land south of the city..." Byron frowned. "Explain."

"Okay."

Upstairs, at the Reese family home, Valda's smile widened seeing only Maeve arrive with gifts. "Hi, Maeve. Dinner's almost ready. Where's Byron?"

"He's on a call downstairs. He'll be up later," Maeve explained. "He couldn't make it last time due to work. He won't miss this time."

Valda dismissed it. "Let's eat. Scott's invited someone."

Maeve felt a sense of foreboding. In the dining room, she saw Jeff sitting next to Scott.

"I heard you came home with your husband, so I stopped by," Jeff said, smirking at Maeve. "Why are you alone again? Both times, you were alone."

Maeve's eyes turned cold. "Jeff, stop haunting me."

"I'm concerned, considering we dated. Can't I care about your marriage?"

"No, you're just gossiping," Maeve retorted.

Scott frowned. "How can you say that?"

Valda intervened, pushing Maeve. "What are you talking about? Jeff's a guest. Sit and eat." Maeve sat far from Jeff.

Valda was about to speak when the doorbell rang.

Jeff mocked, "Maeve, when will you stop pretending? It's a fake marriage. Your husband is fake. Get back together with me..."

"Who says I'm fake?" A cold voice interrupted.

Jeff and Scott were stunned.

Maeve's eyes lit up as Byron entered, carrying more gifts. "Finished your call?" she asked.

"Yes," Byron said, giving Valda the gifts. He touched Maeve's head. "I'm late. Sorry."

Turning to Scott, his gaze was cold. "Hello, Scott. I'm Maeve's husband, Byron McDaniel." Scott's eyelids twitched. This driver… his aura was stronger than Nestor's. He forced a smile. "Hello, Byron. Sit down."

Byron sat calmly. Scott expected pleasantries but received none. He thought, No matter how handsome, what good is a strong aura if he's just a driver?

"Another plate and fork," Scott snapped at Valda.

"Alright," she replied, still shaken.

Jeff, too, was unhappy. His glower never left Byron, whom he remembered breaking his arm and humiliating him in front of Maeve.

"What do you do, Mr. McDaniel? Salary? Car? House?" Jeff challenged.

Maeve thought, Is he alright?

Byron ignored him, turning to Maeve. "Who is he?"

Jeff's face turned green.

Maeve stifled laughter. "I don't know. He's freeloading."

"Oh," Byron said calmly, still ignoring Jeff.

Enraged, Jeff said, "Mr. McDaniel, you're arrogant. How much do you make? Twenty thousand dollars?" Scott and Valda stared at Byron. He looked at Maeve. "What do you think?"

"No need," Maeve said. "My dad can support my mom. Horace will too. It's not our concern."