1.Chapter 1

It was only October, but the air in Kleymond already had a sharp, cold bite.

Early in the morning, Maeve Reese was still curled up in bed, lost in deep sleep. That was, until her mother, Valda, stormed into the room, her voice cutting through the quiet.

"Maeve, get up! Stop lounging around. You need to get ready—today's the day. You and Jeff are getting your marriage license. Don't keep him waiting!" Valda urged.

The words "marriage license" hit Maeve like a bucket of ice water. She shot up in bed, hesitating for a moment before lowering her gaze. "Mom, I don't want to marry him," she mumbled.

"What the hell did you just say?" Valda's voice spiked with disbelief. "Are you out of your damn mind? Jeff comes from a rich family! Marrying him means you'll be set for life. Do you know how many girls would kill for this chance, and you're saying you don't want it?"

"He's screwing around with someone else. There's no way I'm marrying him," Maeve said firmly.

Just yesterday, she had brought Jeff some hangover medicine, only to stumble onto the bitter truth. Through a crack in the door, she'd seen him tangled up in bed with another woman.

The sight had shattered the image she had of him, leaving her stunned at how little she truly knew the man she'd almost married.

Maeve had first met Jeff Graves at the hospital, during one of the darkest times in her life—her father was critically ill, and the family couldn't afford the surgery he desperately needed.

That was when Jeff's father, Wallace Graves, swooped in to save the day, paying for the operation and even offering Maeve's dad a job at the Graves family company.

Out of gratitude for the Graves family's help—and buckling under the pressure from both families—Maeve eventually gave in to Jeff's advances.

In the beginning, Jeff seemed like the dream guy—sweet, attentive, always there for her. But the moment she refused to take their relationship to a physical level, his attitude flipped.

Jeff grew cold, distant, and downright mean. He'd often called her in the middle of the night, demanding she bring him meds or booze, with zero regard for her feelings or needs.

For the past year, Maeve had felt utterly drained—physically, mentally, and emotionally. Instead of a partner, she felt more like Jeff's personal maid, doing his bidding without a single thank you.

Last night, Maeve had cried quietly under the covers, hoping that when she opened up to Valda today, her mother would understand and offer some comfort.

But instead, Valda's reaction was cold and brutal. "The Graves gave us a generous engagement gift, and we've already burned through most of it. If you back out now, how are we supposed to come up with the tens of thousands we need for your brother's tuition?

"Have you ever thought about what this means for your dad and me? What, do you want us to bleed ourselves dry to pay for this?" Valda barked.

Maeve stared at her in shock, thinking, 'I'm the one who's been betrayed, and all she cares about is the damn money? They didn't even let me know about the Graves family's engagement gift at all!'

"Mom!" Maeve's frustration boiled over, sharper than ever. "He cheated on me! How can you seriously expect me to go through with this?"

2.Chapter 2

"Stop making excuses," Valda shot back, dismissive. "All men screw up. As long as he gets it together after the wedding, what's the big deal? Now hurry up and stop keeping Jeff waiting!"

Valda didn't care about Maeve's sufferings at all—she was too busy holding on to the money she had in her grasp. She yanked Maeve out of bed, rushed her through a quick wash and change, and practically shoved her out the door toward city hall.

Standing outside the city hall, surrounded by couples buzzing with excitement and anticipation, Maeve was overwhelmed by a crushing sense of despair. She should've known—no one in her family cared about her feelings.

Her entire life had been controlled by her parents—the schools she went to, the friends she had, even the career she chose. She had been their good daughter for twenty three years, but today, she wasn't going to let them control her anymore, especially not when it meant marrying a man who treated her like dirt.

At this moment, a bold idea struck her: to find someone else to marry and derail her family's plans for good before Jeff even showed up. 'But where the hell am I going to find someone to marry on such short notice?' she wondered.

Just then, a deep, chilling voice sliced through the air behind Maeve. "So, you're telling me it took you this long to figure out my fiancée ran off with a bodyguard?"

Hearing that the man was in a similar boat, Maeve couldn't help but turn to see who was speaking—it was a tall, impeccably dressed man standing under a nearby tree, his body angled so that she could see one side of him as he spoke on his phone.

He was devastatingly handsome, his dark suit tailored to perfection, radiating an air of commanding elegance. Even from several feet away, Maeve could feel the intense authority he exuded.

His lips twisted into a sardonic smile as he listened to the voice on the other end. "Don't even bother looking," he replied coolly. "Heh, are there really no other women out there? Do I seriously have to settle for someone who's already run off with another man?"

"But Mr. McDaniel, Mr. Gilbert McDaniel insists you either find another suitable woman or just grab someone off the street. He's made it clear: you're getting married today no matter what. Otherwise…" The voice on the other end hesitated. "He wouldn't go on living…"

A flicker of hope sparked in Maeve's eyes as she quietly approached him.

Byron McDaniel rubbed his temples in frustration. His grandpa really knew how to push his buttons. Just as Byron was about to snap back, he suddenly felt a gentle tug on his sleeve.

He turned to see a woman standing there, her voice barely above a whisper. "Excuse me, sir," Maeve said tentatively. "I overheard your partner has run off. I was wondering if you'd like to marry me instead?"

3.Chapter 3

Maeve popping up out of nowhere threw Byron for a loop. He'd been on the phone and didn't really catch what she said. Frowning, he asked, "Wait, what did you just say?"

"I asked if you'd think about marrying me," Maeve said, mustering up all her courage.

In fact, this wasn't her first run-in with Byron. Just last night, on her way to drop off hangover meds to Jeff, she'd walked by an alley and saw Byron getting chased and beaten up.

He was covered in blood, lying on the ground. Without a second thought, she jumped in to save him, and he'd also promised her a favor in return.

Worried Byron might think she was nuts, she added, "Actually, I saved your life last night. You remember?"

Byron paused, narrowing his eyes as a flicker of recognition crossed his face. "That was you?"

"Yup, that was me," she confirmed, letting out a quiet sigh of relief.

"So this is your big ask?" Byron's gaze turned icy as he studied Maeve's slightly flushed face.

He'd been puzzled why she didn't ask for anything that night, but now he figured it out—she must've figured out who he was, and realized marrying him was way better than a quick favor. 'Was all that kindness just a front? What a phony woman!'

At that thought, disdain flickered in his eyes as he looked at Maeve, his expression turning distant. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

Caught up in her own nerves, Maeve didn't notice the chill in his tone and quickly nodded. "Yes," said she.

Looking at the worn and faded hem of his suit, Maeve figured he didn't have much going for him. And with what she'd seen last night, it was clear he was in deep trouble. She knew marrying a complete stranger, especially a guy like him, was a big gamble, but she was really at her wit's end.

On the bright side, Byron was way better looking than Jeff. 'Just looking at him feels like a win', she thought. 'Marrying him doesn't seem like a loss at all.'

Byron's long silence started to make Maeve uneasy. Just when she thought about backing out, assuming he was going to turn her down, Byron finally lifted his chin with a cool shrug. "Fine. Let's go," said he.

With his family pushing him to get married today, it felt like the right move; he needed to settle down anyway. At this point, any girl would do.

Maeve, still a bit dazed, blinked and asked, "Where to?"

Byron shot her an impatient look. "Didn't you say you wanted to get married?" Without waiting for a reply, he turned and headed for the entrance of the city hall.

"Oh! Right!" Maeve scrambled to keep up.

Half an hour later, Maeve walked out of the city hall, clutching the newly issued marriage license, feeling like she was in a daze. She kept glancing at Byron's sharp profile beside her, barely able to believe any of this was real.

This was, hands down, the wildest thing Maeve had ever done in her twenty-three years—marrying a complete stranger. As for Byron, he was as cold as ice and hadn't smiled once the whole time.

Walking next to Byron, Maeve felt a weird mix of excitement and dread about what was coming next.

Now that they were officially married, she figured she should at least make some effort. She pulled out a spare key to her apartment and handed it to him.

"Here's the key to my place," she said, keeping it casual. "Pinehurst Apartments, number 1008. Move in whenever you're ready. And since you're hurt, if you need help with your stuff, just let me know."

Byron narrowed his eyes. "So moving in is part of the deal now?"

4.Chapter 4

Maeve shrugged. "Look, I don't know why you didn't go to the hospital after getting hurt that badly. But now that we're married, I'll do my best to keep things together. You don't have to do those... dangerous jobs anymore."

She hadn't been able to intervene before, but now that he was her husband, she wanted him to be safe.

Byron's expression darkened as he thought, 'Is she already trying to control me now? Since when do I need a woman to take care of me? What a joke!'

"Let's get one thing straight," Byron said, his voice icy. "Just because we're married doesn't mean you get to interfere in my life. You need to understand that."

Maeve flinched at his tone but nodded, a bit stunned. "Alright. Do you need help moving your things now?"

"No," Byron cut in sharply. "I've got plans." Without another word, he turned on his heel and started walking toward the street, barely sparing her a glance. He did, however, keep the key she'd given him.

Maeve felt there was something different about Byron compared to last night, but she couldn't quite pin it down. She decided not to dwell on it and hailed a cab.

As soon as she plopped down in the backseat, her phone buzzed. It was Jeff calling. After a quick second of hesitation, she hung up and blocked his number.

She'd already said all she needed to in the message she sent before heading to city hall. Whether he read it or not was his issue now.

With that settled, Maeve glanced down at the marriage certificate on her lap and smiled, feeling a wave of nerves mixed with relief wash over her. 'It's gonna be okay,' she told herself.

Not long after Maeve left, a sleek black Maybach pulled up to the curb. A man stepped out from the front seat, moving quickly to open the back door. "Mr. McDaniel, please get in," he said with a respectful nod to Byron, who was still lingering by the roadside.

Byron slid into the backseat, casually crossing his long legs. He looked pale and exhuasted—jumping back into his normal routine before he was fully healed was clearly wearing him down.

"Call the Anthony," he ordered. "I need my wound checked and redressed."

Archer Bax, his assistant, replied smoothly, "Anthony's already on his way. And we've managed to throw Mr. Gilbert McDaniel's men off your trail—they still don't know you're hurt."

If Gilbert found out about Byron's injuries, Gilbert wouldn't have rushed his grandson into marriage. But that would also mean that Byron's injuries would be laid bare for the rest of the McDaniels, putting him at a serious disadvantage. That was why Byron insisted on keeping it a secret from everyone else.

Byron leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes for a quick moment of rest. He carelessly tossed the copy of the marriage license to the side, but it ended up slipping to the floor without anyone noticing.

5.Chapter 5

At Pinehurst Apartments, Maeve had taken a day off to prepare the room for Byron's arrival. It wasn't big, but getting it ready had consumed her entire afternoon.

After dinner, Maeve started browsing online for bedding. The prices at local stores were way too high, while the online options were much more affordable and just as good.

But what style would he like?' she wondered.

Out of courtesy to her soon-to-be roommate, she thought about calling him to ask. That's when it hit her—they hadn't even exchanged phone numbers.

It wasn't entirely her fault; Byron had been so aloof during the marriage registration process that he'd seemed almost intimidating.

Maeve sighed, tucked the drying rack away, and was about to head back to her room when a sudden knock echoed through the silence. She hurried to the door, opening it to find Byron leaning against the wall, his face unusually pale and his expression as frosty as ever.

Maeve glanced around, surprised to see he hadn't brought any luggage. "Didn't you bring anything with you?" she asked, puzzled.

Byron's visit had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. Gilbert's people were keeping a close watch on him at home, and letting Anthony come by would only draw attention to his injury. Even his other properties were under his grandfather's watchful eye.

After weighing his options, Maeve's apartment stood out as the only safe haven that remained off the radar.

"Can I come in?" Byron asked, his voice gravelly.

"Sure," Maeve replied, quickly stepping aside when she noticed how unwell he looked.

Byron walked in, his gaze sweeping over the small but impeccably tidy living room. The decor was simple yet charming—bright flowers adorned the table, wind chimes tinkled gently by the window, and a few stuffed toys were scattered on the couch.

The space radiated warmth and life, feeling cozier and more inviting than the vast villa he owned in the city's most exclusive neighborhood. For a brief moment, a wave of comfort washed over him.

With Byron's commanding presence filling the space, Maeve couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy, even though he was now her husband.

She stammered, "Um... I didn't expect you to come over tonight. I just finished getting your room ready this afternoon, but I haven't had a chance to buy any furniture or bedding yet."

"Don't bother," Byron replied, his gaze turning toward her, eyes deep and hard to read. "I'm only staying for a couple of nights. There's no need to go out of your way. Besides, I could offer you a better place to live, as compensation."

Maeve blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before quickly shaking her head. "Oh, no, I'm perfectly happy living here. I know your work keeps you busy, so there's no need to go through all that trouble or expense over something so minor."

She hesitated, then added, almost as an afterthought, "Besides, we're married now. No need to be so formal about everything."

Byron stared at Maeve's earnest face and felt a strange discomfort creeping in. He cleared his throat and looked away. "Look, even though we're married, some things should stay... separate. But if you're going to insist, fine—do whatever you want."

"Alright…" Maeve bit her lip, feeling warmth creep into her cheeks as her palms began to sweat. A subtle tension settled in the living room, shifting the atmosphere around them.

"Do you have a first-aid kit?" Byron asked, pulling his gaze back to her.

"Yeah, just a second. I'll go get it," Maeve replied, nodding before heading to the TV cabinet. She didn't bother asking why he hadn't gone to a hospital; clearly, he had his reasons.

Byron gave a nod and sank down onto the sofa.

Maeve quickly found the first-aid kit and placed it on the table. "Need any help?"

"No." Byron's tone was curt as he pulled up his shirt, revealing bandages around his abdomen, stained with traces of blood.

A chill ran through Maeve. "You should really go to a hospital. No one's chasing you now, so it should be safe…"

Her words sounded so naive that Byron almost laughed. But just as a hint of a smile crossed his lips, it vanished. He caught sight of something—a tiny red dot in the corner of the living room. Instantly, he stood up and moved to the TV cabinet, grabbing a small stuffed bear.

"What's wrong?" Maeve asked, confusion clouding her expression.

Byron didn't answer. Instead, he twisted the bear's head, revealing a hidden mini camera tucked behind its eyes.

"A camera?" Maeve's face drained of color. "Why the hell would there be a camera hidden in a stuffed toy?"

The bear had been positioned directly facing the couch, and a chilling thought raced through Maeve's mind: 'Has someone been watching my every move?'

"This is your house—why do you look so shocked?" Byron's voice dripped with sarcasm as he crushed the camera in his hand. His eyes turned cold and piercing as he glared at her. "A camera in a toy's eyes... I gotta admit, I didn't think you had it in you."

He could hardly believe how easily he had been fooled by her innocent act.

Maeve's eyes widened in disbelief. "You think I put that camera there to spy on you? I had no idea it was even there!"

"You seriously expect me to buy that?" Byron's voice was like ice, filled with contempt. "Marrying a sneaky piece of work like you is probably the dumbest thing I've ever done."

6.Chapter 6

Marrying me... was that a mistake?' Maeve thought, feeling a sharp, painful knot tighten in her chest. The words cut deep, leaving a bitter sting in their wake, and a wave of anger surged through her.

She couldn't hold back. "What the hell gives you the right to say that? Do you even know me?"

Just dealing with a nightmare she had only ever seen online was bad enough; now, confronted with Byron's doubts, Maeve felt a deep sense of injustice wash over her.

Byron was about to respond when a series of violent bangs reverberated through the apartment, followed by Jeff's furious, accusatory voice.

"Maeve! You bitch! I waited at city hall for half an hour, and here you are screwing around with another guy! If I hadn't checked the security footage, I wouldn't have known you dragged some random guy into your place! I know you're in there! Open the damn door!"

Jeff's voice was a frenzied roar, his rage so intense it practically seeped through the wood, each relentless pound punctuating his fury.

Byron frowned and turned to look at Maeve. She was on the verge of tears, her eyes red and swollen from holding them back. He watched her closely, a flicker of realization crossing his face.

'So, she didn't put up the camera? Maybe I got this all wrong...' he thought.

Maeve didn't notice Byron's stare; she was too focused on the door that was now trembling under Jeff's violent assault. Her face had gone pale as she grappled with the situation.

Jeff had never been the patient type, especially when he was pissed or drunk. 'He could get violent over the smallest thing. With Byron hurt and just the two of us here, letting Jeff in could turn deadly,' she thought, anxiety gripping her.

Outside, Jeff kept screaming, his voice a snarling mix of rage and bitterness. "You whore! No wonder you've been playing coy, acting all high and mighty while sneaking around with some random guy behind my back! Think you can just not open the door? Fine!"

A loud, thunderous crash reverberated as something heavy slammed against the door, shaking the walls. Several more brutal hits followed, and then, with a final shattering impact, the door splintered and crashed inward.

Maeve instinctively jumped back, bumping into Byron. Remembering their earlier argument, she quickly pulled away, but his large hand shot out, catching her and pulling her behind him.

His voice was calm but steely as he commanded, "Stay back."

Maeve froze for a moment, her heart racing, and by the time she snapped out of it, Jeff had already barged into the apartment.

Clutching a metal rod, his face twisted with fury, Jeff's eyes burned with venom as he spat on the floor. "You filthy cheaters! Did you really think a locked door would keep me out?"

Maeve's expression hardened. "Jeff, you're the one who cheated first. I already told you it's over. Who I'm with now is none of your fucking business—"

"Shut the fuck up!" Jeff bellowed, his rage boiling over. "I'll deal with this asshole first, then I'll take care of you, you slut!"

He swung the metal rod with a vicious force, aiming straight for Byron's head, the kind of blow that could cause serious damage—or worse, kill.

Maeve's face turned as white as a sheet, her heart pounding with fear. She barely managed to shout, "Mr. McDaniel, watch out!"

7.Chapter 7

Just as the rod came hurtling down, a powerful hand shot out, stopping it mid-swing. Byron stood there, unfazed, his eyes cold and filled with contempt as he stared Jeff down. His arm muscles tightened, strong and defined, as he gripped the rod as if it weighed nothing.

In one swift motion, he twisted his body and grabbed Jeff's arm, yanking it backward with a quick, brutal snap. The sickening crunch of bone filled the room, followed by Jeff's piercing scream.

But Byron wasn't done. His leg shot out, delivering a vicious kick to Jeff's chest. The blow was brutal; the sharp crack of ribs echoed in the air. Jeff didn't even have time to groan before he collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

Byron's movements, however, reopened his wounds. He grimaced, his face growing visibly paler.

Maeve noticed right away and rushed over to him, not sparing a glance for Jeff, who lay motionless on the floor. "Did you tear your wound open? Do we need to get to a hospital?"

"I'm fine," Byron grunted, but his eyes unintentionally flicked to Maeve's cleavage peeking out from her nightgown before he quickly shifted his focus back to Jeff. "What are we supposed to do with this piece of trash?" His voice was cold and dismissive, as if Jeff were nothing more than garbage waiting to be tossed out.

Maeve felt a small, unexpected smile tug at her lips, but it faded as she looked around at the broken door and the wreckage in her living room.

She shuddered at the thought of what might have happened if Byron hadn't shown up. The idea of being watched by Jeff every single day made her skin crawl and her stomach churn.

'Thank God I never married him,' she thought, biting her lip, trying to steady herself.

When Maeve gathered herself again, she noticed Byron on the phone, calm and collected as he spoke. "Yeah, get it done and bring it over. Fast."

Maeve blinked, puzzled.

Ten minutes later, Byron's bodyguards arrived. They quickly took photos, collected evidence, and dragged Jeff off to the police station. They also grabbed the hidden camera and the metal rod—key pieces of evidence.

Not long after the bodyguards left, a team of workers showed up to install a new door. They worked efficiently for about half an hour, and soon, the door was securely in place.

Maeve, grateful for their hard work, wanted to offer them something to drink, but before she could say a word, they were already gone, leaving her with nothing to do but abandon the thought.

She looked at the brand-new door and smiled. "This door looks pretty solid. It shouldn't break so easily next time, right?"

Byron, having just finished checking the lock, raised an eyebrow at her. "Didn't they tell you? This door is made from the same material they use for safes. It'd take a bomb to get through it."

Maeve's jaw dropped. "Isn't that a bit much for a little apartment like mine?"

'My tiny, cheap apartment getting the same treatment as a bank vault? That's just nuts,' she thought.

Byron let out a low chuckle, but then his face suddenly went pale, and beads of sweat started forming on his forehead.

8.Chapter 8

Maeve immediately sensed something was off. "Is your wound acting up again? You just told me you were fine. This is your idea of 'fine'?"

Without waiting for Byron to respond, she grabbed his arm and guided him back to the living room. "You refuse to go to the hospital, but I know a thing or two about first aid. If you don't mind, I can help."

Byron frowned but didn't argue this time, letting out a low grunt of agreement. Maeve guided him to the sofa and carefully lifted his shirt to check the wound. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the bandage on his abdomen, soaked through with blood.

The wound's so torn up, yet he still managed to take Jeff down with one kick. Is he really that strong, or is Jeff just that useless?' she wondered.

Shoving those thoughts aside, Maeve started unwrapping the bandage, her voice soft and reassuring. "I'll go as easy as I can. If it hurts, just tell me."

Byron's eyes stayed fixed on her. Her face was so close to his wound that he could feel her warm, gentle breath against his skin.

She must have just showered—he caught a faint scent of white lily, light and soothing. With each careful movement, the fragrance seemed to draw closer, filling the air around them. Time felt as if it were stretching, suspended in this intimate moment.

"All done," Maeve finally said, stepping back with a satisfied smile after finishing the new bandage. "Just keep it dry and avoid anything too physical, or you'll tear it open again."

Byron swallowed hard as he listened to her gentle instructions. "I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions earlier," he said, his voice low but sincere.

Maeve blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected apology. She looked up and met his deep brown eyes. They were calm, like a still pond, yet held a distant, unreachable quality, like the light of a faraway star—mysterious and impossible to fully grasp.

Her heart skipped a beat. "It's... it's fine. I had no idea my ex was behind all this, so I get why you'd think the worst."

She wanted to reassure him that it truly didn't matter, that she hadn't been bothered that much. But the words caught in her throat.

All the frustration, anger, fear, and uncertainty she had buried deep inside swelled up like a balloon. Byron's simple apology felt like a pin, causing it all to burst wide open.

Emotions surged through Maeve, making her eyes burn and sting until she could hardly hold back the tears.

Then, suddenly, the room plunged into darkness—the power had gone out.

The tears Maeve had been fighting so hard to hold back spilled over in an instant, streaming silently down her cheeks.

"It's fine, really. This happens all the time around here. The power should be back soon," Maeve murmured, her voice strained as she tried to reassure Byron, forcing herself to sound steady.

She cried quietly, her face composed except for the tears pooling in her eyes. A few hot droplets splashed onto the back of Byron's hand, betraying her facade.

Seriously? My apology scared her so much she's crying? What the hell?' Byron thought, frustration flickering across his face. He pressed his lips into a thin line and walked off toward some corner of the living room.

Maeve was doing her best to keep it together, determined not to show Byron how vulnerable she felt. But just then, the lights flickered back on.

Surprised, she glanced up, her red, swollen eyes meeting Byron's. He stood by the light switch, staring at her with a blank expression. Then, calmly, he flicked the lights off again. "Go ahead and cry. I'm not turning the lights back on," his deep voice cut through the darkness.

Maeve was speechless, caught between frustration and an unexpected urge to laugh. Strangely enough, the heaviness in her chest began to lift, dissolving like soap bubbles carried away by her tears. Her heart felt a little lighter.

"You can turn them back on now. I'm done," she said.

The lights came back on, and Maeve straightened up as if nothing had happened. "I'm worried there might still be hidden cameras," she said, quickly changing the subject. "Can you check for me?"

Byron gave a curt nod.

After a thorough search of the room, they both felt relieved to find no more cameras. Maeve was especially concerned about her bedroom and bathroom, but luckily, both were clear.

When they reached Byron's room, Maeve opened the door and said, "I didn't expect you to move in so quickly, so I haven't had time to get everything ready. Like... your bed."

Byron's face remained unreadable as he looked at her. "So, I'm sleeping on the floor tonight?"

Maeve hesitated, thinking, 'Letting an injured man sleep on the floor? That just doesn't sit right. But the only bed is in my room.'

"How about... you share my bed?" Maeve blurted out before she could stop herself.

9.Chapter 9

Byron's face instantly darkened, like storm clouds gathering in his eyes. Maeve noticed his displeasure and scratched her head awkwardly. "If it's a problem for you, I can always take the couch…"

"No need," Byron cut her off, his voice cold and firm. "We'll do it your way."

He reassured himself that it was just for a few days. At least here, no one was breathing down his neck. Sharing a bed with her was something he could handle—at least for now.

Late at night, after a day of total chaos, Maeve finally started to relax as she sank into the soft bed, feeling her muscles slowly unwind.

Just when she was about to drift off, the mattress shifted slightly. She turned her head and found herself staring at Byron's handsome profile, and her breath hitched in her throat.

'How did I never notice how small my bed is?' she thought, suddenly aware of how cramped it felt. Even with a stuffed animal acting as a makeshift barrier, they were still uncomfortably close. So close she could hear his slow, steady breathing.

Sensing her gaze on him, Byron said, "If you've got something on your mind, just spit it out." His tone was flat, almost bored.

Caught in the act, Maeve felt her cheeks flush, but curiosity got the better of her. "Uh, can I ask… what do you do for a living?"

The first time she met him, he'd been beaten up and on the run from some dangerous people.

Today, he seemed to have been dumped by his fiancée, only to end up marrying her instead. His life looked like a mess, but he had skills. She was especially amazed at how quickly he had found the hidden camera inside her stuffed animal.

Byron's eyes narrowed as he glanced at her. 'Is she seriously playing dumb to get me to drop my guard?' he wondered.

"I drive," he said indifferently.

Maeve let out a small sigh of relief. 'So he's a driver. That's not so bad. At least it's not something shady. And it kinda makes sense with the situation I'm in,' she thought.

Comforted by that idea, she closed her eyes and began to drift off.

Byron, on the other hand, was finding it hard to relax. The bed was too small, the mattress wasn't exactly soft, and even the pillow felt like a rock. But what really got under his skin was Maeve's hair.

A few stray strands of her hair had drifted over to his side, brushing against his ear. He clenched his teeth, resisting the urge to touch it. His brow furrowed in frustration.

'Is she doing this on purpose?' he wondered.

The morning sunlight was gentle yet warm, spilling into the bedroom and casting a soft, golden glow over the bed. The two figures were tangled up so closely it seemed there wasn't an inch of space between them.

Byron's internal clock was as precise as ever. At seven sharp, he stirred awake, his eyes still half-closed with sleep. But something felt off—something warm and soft was pressed up against him.

He glanced down and saw Maeve, who should have been on the other side of the bed, now somehow nestled in his arms.

Her cheeks were tinged with a soft pink, resting against his chest, her arms wrapped around his, and one of her long legs draped over his. She was sound asleep.

Byron's face darkened. He tried to push her away, but she clung to him so tightly he could barely move. Frustrated, he gave her nose a light pinch. Within seconds, she jerked awake, gasping for air.

Still groggy, Maeve blinked up at him in confusion, only to meet his cold, irritated glare.

"Maeve, get off me. Now!" Byron's voice was sharp, cutting through the last remnants of her sleep and sending a chill down her spine.

Her eyes widened as she realized how tightly she was wrapped around him.

'Oh shit! The soft, cozy thing I was hugging wasn't my stuffed animal—it's Byron!' Her face flushed a deep red. She scrambled away, her movements frantic and awkward, trying to get to the edge of the bed.

"I-I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! I usually sleep so much better..." she stammered, her voice full of embarrassment and frantic apologies.

Byron's frustration only deepened as he listened to her babble. 'How many times has she said it wasn't on purpose since we got married? Playing innocent while plotting her moves—just like the rest of the McDaniel family,' he thought darkly.

He gave her a cold, hard stare and snapped, "Stay the hell away from me." With that, he tossed off the covers, climbed out of bed, and stormed out of the room.

Maeve bit back the urge to blurt out, "I mistook you for a damn pillow!" Instead, she swallowed her words, feeling a bit suffocated by his attitude.

Annoyed, she thought, 'Seriously? It's not like I did it on purpose. But he acts like I'm some seductress trying to make a move on him—what the hell does he think I am? I've got to get his room set up soon.'

Muttering under her breath, Maeve got out of bed to wash up. Afterward, she carefully changed Byron's bandages before heading to the kitchen to make breakfast.

Byron, now dressed in fresh clothes his bodyguard had dropped off the night before, picked up his watch from the living room table and strapped it onto his wrist.

He glanced over at the kitchen, where Maeve was busy prepping ingredients for two servings, and said coolly, "Don't bother making breakfast for me. I don't eat in the mornings."

"Skipping breakfast is bad for your stomach," Maeve replied without turning around. "I'll be done in a minute, and my cooking's not half bad. You might even like it."

"I said no..."

"Relax, I'm not charging you for it."

Byron was momentarily thrown off. He glanced at the clock—forty minutes until his morning meeting.

He figured she was trying to win him over with food. 'If it were that damn easy, I'd have just married a chef,' he thought, annoyed.

10.Chapter 10

Not long after Byron sat down, Maeve's voice drifted out from the kitchen. "Mr. McDaniel, we're out of leeks in the fridge. Could you grab some from the balcony?"

Byron raised an eyebrow, puzzled.

Most people's balconies were covered with bright flowers and decorative plants, but not Maeve's. Hers was more like a tiny vegetable farm, crammed with leeks, spring onions, and lettuce. Even the glass plant stand that Jeff had broken yesterday had been filled with veggie pots, not flowers.

Byron stepped out onto the balcony, taken aback by the jungle of green. To him, all the vegetables looked pretty much the same.

He rubbed his temples, feeling a bit lost. 'Which ones are the leeks?' he muttered under his breath.

"The scissors are on the shelf. Just cut a handful, not too much," Maeve called from the kitchen.

Byron pressed his lips into a thin line, grabbed the scissors, and snipped off a bunch of what he hoped were leeks. With a slight frown, he walked back into the kitchen.

Maeve glanced at the bunch in his hand, nearly speechless. "These are spring onions…"

She shook her head in disbelief. 'How can he not tell the difference between leeks and spring onions? Seriously, how clueless can someone be about basic stuff?' she thought.

Byron's brown eyes narrowed. "You didn't exactly point out which ones were the leeks."

Maeve bit her lip and sighed. "My bad. I'll get them myself. But thanks for trying."

Fifteen minutes later, Maeve set two bowls of potato leek soup and a dish of mac and cheese on the table. The presentation was basic, but it looked decent enough.

"Go on, dig in," Maeve said with a smile as she took a seat across from Byron.

Byron glanced at her before picking up his fork, his movements smooth and practiced. But the moment he took a bite, his face twisted slightly.

'How could it taste this awful?' he thought, struggling to comprehend that she actually believed she was a good cook.

The soup was downright terrible, and even the mac and cheese—something that was supposed to be foolproof—was a complete catastrophe. His taste buds felt like they were under attack.

He managed only two bites before setting his fork down and reaching for his jacket. "I just remembered, I've got something urgent to take care of. Enjoy your meal."

Maeve blinked, confused. "But you haven't even finished your soup..."

"I can't stomach it right now." Byron's face was dark as he walked out of the apartment, leaving Maeve to stifle a laugh.

She twirled some spaghetti around her fork and took a bite, a satisfied grin spreading across her face. 'Well, that should clear up any misunderstandings from last night,' she thought, feeling a bit smug.

After finishing breakfast, Maeve tidied up and got ready to head out. When she checked her phone, which had been on silent, she saw several missed calls from her parents. They must have found out she hadn't registered her marriage with Jeff.

Once Maeve made up her mind, she never looked back. Now, she just had to figure out how to return the engagement gift from the Graves family or risk digging into her savings.

At the office, Maeve was about to start sorting through some fashion sketches when her boss, Piers Robinson, called her into his office.

"Maeve, I heard you and Jeff had a bit of a blowup," Piers said, getting straight to the point. "And that you even had him hauled off to the police station?"

No surprise Piers knew about it; he was well-connected with Jeff's father, Wallace.

Maeve shook her head. "Mr. Robinson, I ended things with him. He was arrested because he broke the law."

Piers looked genuinely surprised. But as he met the seriousness in Maeve's eyes, he realized this wasn't just some heat-of-the-moment spat. A twinge of unease crept in about the favor Wallace had asked of him.

Piers put on a reassuring smile. "Still, one night in the slammer is more than enough. Are you really willing to throw away your relationship over something so trivial? You've been planning a future together; shouldn't you be focusing on that?"

"And besides," he continued. "Jeff played a big role in getting you this job. He even asked me to cut you some slack, and keep your workload light."

Piers wasn't being harsh, but his words made Maeve's cheeks flush with embarrassment. The whole situation suddenly felt ridiculous to her.

Before joining this company, Maeve had actually landed an offer from a top-tier design brand. But Jeff, who constantly complained about the crazy hours at big firms and how much he hated being apart from her, had "accidentally" replied to the email and declined the offer on her behalf.

With no other option, she had to let go of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Thanks to his interference, Maeve ended up at this company—less work, but also less pay. To make ends meet, she occasionally took on freelance illustration gigs.

With her skills and qualifications, she should have been leading design projects, yet she was relegated to menial tasks.

Over time, she began to doubt her own abilities and considered quitting, but she never imagined Jeff had been manipulating things behind the scenes all along.

Maeve took a deep breath, fighting to keep her anger in check.

Piers continued, "You're on the brink of marriage, so whether you stay at this job or not doesn't really matter. But if Jeff ends up with a criminal record, it could affect your future children..."

"Mr. Robinson," Maeve interrupted, her voice calm and firm. "I've already ended things with Jeff. Yesterday, I registered my marriage with the man I truly love. If it's not too much trouble, could you please pass that message along to him?"

11.Chapter 11

"By the way, I'll be sending my resignation letter to your inbox soon. Today's probably my last day here. Thanks for everything these past few days." Maeve gave Piers a calm nod before walking out of his office.

Piers sat at his desk, stunned. 'Maeve's quitting? And getting married? This has to be some kind of joke! How the hell am I supposed to explain this to Wallace now?' His mind was spinning.

Maeve's decision to resign wasn't a spur-of-the-moment thing. It felt like a fog had finally lifted, revealing a clearer path ahead. Staying at the company would just mean endless frustration and no future. Leaving was the smart move.

She had earned a decent amount from her freelance illustration work and wasn't concerned about the loss of this job.

As Maeve approached the office area, she caught snippets of gossip floating from inside.

"Did you hear? Maeve got Mr. Graves hauled off to the station. Has she completely lost it?"

"People from nothing trying to marry into money—it's never a smooth ride. She acts all high and mighty, but isn't this just a scheme to push him into marrying her?"

"Well, if they're really over, we won't have to keep pushing her to quit and become some trophy wife. It's exhausting keeping up this pretense."

That last comment hit Maeve like a punch to the gut. All the ostracism and petty tricks she'd endured from her colleagues—it had all been orchestrated by Jeff.

It dawned on her: Jeff had been pulling strings, using his family's influence to sabotage her at work, all to force her to quit and become dependent on him. She'd seriously underestimated just how low he'd stoop.

Maeve bit her lip, anger simmering just beneath the surface as she walked into the office, saying nothing.

The chatter stopped abruptly, and her colleagues stared in uneasy silence. Eyes shifted nervously as Maeve packed her things with cold determination.

A few of them looked like they wanted to ask what was going on, but Maeve had always kept her distance. She wasn't about to start explaining herself now.

Just then, Piers approached her. Sensing her determination to leave, he tried to talk her out of it. "Maeve, if you resign now, it'll be a nightmare to find a replacement on short notice. At least stay until we find someone to take over your duties."

Maeve had been itching to leave immediately, but she considered his point and nodded. "Alright, I'll stay until the end of the month." With just over a week left, it seemed doable.

Piers gave a nod and walked away, already dialing on his phone.

Maeve ignored the curious stares from her colleagues and focused on finishing her work. Maybe because she was leaving soon, the ones who usually bossed her around were unusually quiet today.

Enjoying the rare calm, Maeve sorted through her designs, her mind drifting to ways she could help Byron recover from his injuries faster.

After work, Maeve stopped by the supermarket to grab some protein powder, then picked up a few vitamins at the pharmacy before heading home.

As she approached her building, her heart sank—Valda was there, looking like thunder. Maeve's first instinct was to turn around, but it was too late—she had already spotted her.

"Maeve!" Valda's voice was sharp with fury as she stormed over. "Have you lost your damn mind? How could you get Jeff thrown in jail? Do you even realize that your brother got into that high school because of the Graves family? Your father still works for them! And now, you go and bite the hand that feeds us?"

Valda's rage was palpable as she seized Maeve's arm, trying to drag her away. "You're coming with me to the police station, right now. You're gonna fix this and apologize to Jeff!" Her voice shook with anger, her grip tightening.

Maeve winced at the pressure. "Mom! Jeff put cameras in my apartment to spy on me and even tried to be violent. How is any of this my fault?"

Valda's eyes blazed as she snapped, "So what? You should've put up with it. Don't forget, our whole family relies on him!"

Maeve's face drained of color at her mother's words. Her pent-up frustration finally erupted. "If you all want to rely on him so much, then do it yourselves. Stop using me as a sacrifice!"

Valda froze, her hand raised as if to strike Maeve. "What did you just say?"

Maeve instinctively shut her eyes, bracing for the impact. But the slap never came. Instead, a firm hand intercepted Valda's arm mid-air.

Maeve opened her eyes and saw Byron standing in front of her. Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Mr. McDaniel?"

Byron gave a curt nod, his brow furrowed. "What's going on here?"

Maeve tried to answer, but Valda cut her off with a furious shout. "Who the hell is this? Are you messing around, just like Jeff said?" Valda's anger was intense. "Maeve, who taught you to be so shameless and ungrateful?"

Maeve felt Valda's words cut deeper than any of the insults she'd faced from her colleagues.

"Watch your tone when you talk to my wife." Byron's voice was cold, slicing through Valda's rant. "Our relationship is legitimate, and it's none of your business."