The Heir's Secret Bride

Byron's voice turned icy as he spat. "Neville McDaniel.

This jaw clenched as he thought. Using Grandpa to check if I'm actually hurt-nice try. You really think I'll go easy on you just for Grandpa's sake? Not a chance"

"Archer," Byron's voice cut through the room, sharp and commanding.

"Yes, sir." Archer promptly stepped into the room, ready for orders.

"Get rid of all of Neville's crap from his office, Byron ordered, his voice cold enough to freeze. "Then turn it into a public

restroom

Archer almost lost his composure, barely managing to stifle a laugh.

Before Byron's return. Neville had been the General Manager of the McDaniel Group, practically a heartbeat away from the

CEO title.

But now, even if they converted his office into a restroom, Byron's authority in the company wouldn't budge an inch. It was a brutal slap in the face-more humiliating than any outright confrontation, turning Neville into a punchline in the office gossip. "And find out who tipped Neville off about my injury. Byron's eyes gleamed with a dangerous glint. "When you do, deal with them. However you see fit."

Archer nodded without hesitation. "Understood, sir."

The office fell back into silence.

Byron rubbed his temple, trying to ease the dull ache, when his phone rang. It was Ray.

He answered casually, "Yeah, what's up?"

"Byron, we've known each other for over a decade. We're like brothers. And you're hiding a girl from me? What the hell, man. Ray's voice was dripping with playful sarcasm.

Byron's face went blank. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I saw her today-a cute little thing with a photo of your injury, coming to the hospital to get it checked, Ray teased. "Where'd you find her? Can you set me up with someone like that too?"

I

Byron sprang from his chair. "She had a photo of my injury? What did she look like?"

"You want me to describe your own woman?" Ray quipped, though he went ahead and described Maeve's features.

Byron's expression instantly turned dark. He'd already suspected someone on his team, but he never thought Maeve would have the nerve to sneak a picture of him.

"We'll talk later," Byron snapped, cutting Ray off before storming out the door.

Ray was left mid-sentence, confusion written all over his face. Hewildered, he muttered to himself, "What's with the sudden rage? I didn't even get to tell him that the girl seemed really worried about him-like she's head over heels.... But Byron was already long gone, leaving Ray's words hanging in the air.

At Pinehurst Apartments, Maeve was in the kitchen, tasting the soup when the door slammed open and shut.

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Rushing out to see what was happening, she froze at the sight of Byron's stormy expression as he stormed in. "Why do you look so...

"Did you take a photo of my injury?" Byron cut her off, his voice as cold as ice. "And then you took it to the hospital to show at doctor, didn't you?"

Maeve v was taken aback but nodded. "Yes, I noticed your wound wasn't healing well. I thought the medication might help..

Before she could finish, Byron's expression hardened even further. His voice was sharp he snapped, "Who gave you the right to meddle? Do you think you're important to me?"

He glared at her, his tone almost frighteningly harsh, "Do I need to remind you? Apart from the marriage license, we have nothing between us?

Maeve stood frozen, stunned and unable to grasp what was happening. "I wasn't trying to meddle," she said, her voice trembling. "I was just trying to help you..."

"don't!

your help. Byron interrupted, his brow furrowed with irritation. His voice dripped with disdain. "If you're so desperate to play the caring wife, we can get divorced right now,

"And delete those photos you took. Don't make me repeat myself!"

Maeve had known Byron for a while, but she had never seen him like this-cold and terrifying. The man who gentle while applying ointment to her injuries the night before now felt like a stranger. had been so

She barely managed to pull out her phone, her hands trembling as she deleted the photo. Tears stung her eyes, and it felt like a lump was stuck in her throat, suffocating her.

Maeve fought to keep her emotions in check as she held up her phone. "It's deleted. I only took one photo while you were asleep. I didn't mean any harm. If it caused trouble, I'm really sorry." ByronProperty belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

If Byron had been in a calmer state, he might have noticed the tremor in her voice. But his anger clouded his judgment, and all he felt was rage. had always

suspected that Maeve had hidden motives for getting close to him. He had watched her with the patience of a cat stalking its prey, intrigued by her every move.

But he hadn't expected her to reveal her hand so soon. Her actions had nearly derailed his meticulously crafted plans. Byron shot Maeve a look of sheer disdain before turning on his heel and walking out, leaving without another word. Maeve's legs buckled, and she sank to the floor, staring at the ground as tears welled in her eyes. She wondered, 'Had I really overstepped? Is everything I've done wrong? I wasn't trying to be intrusive-I just wanted his wound to heal faster. Why is he treating me like this?" A wave of confusion and despair washed over her, leaving her feeling more lost than ever.

Byron didn't come back after he left. Maeve sat alone at the table, staring at the soup she'd spent all afternoon making, now barely touched except by her own spoon. She couldn't taste a thing. Her mind was blank, swallowed up by the empfiness around her.

She didn't sleep much that night. When she dragged herself out of bed the next morning, her head was pounding, but she forced herself up to make breakfast.

After she ate, she grabbed her sketchbook and flopped onto the small couch on the balcony, trying to focus on her latest

webcomic.

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But she kept getting distracted. Her mind kept drifting, and then it hit her for the hundredth time: her marriage to Byron was never about love

It was just a way to avoid marrying Jell. Now that she had what she wanted-the marriage license-she didn't need anything

If Byron wants a divorce, fine. I will move on. There are plenty of other options out there, she thought.

Lately,

things between them had made her think that maybe-just maybe-they could make it work in the long run. But Byron's words from yesterday snapped her back to reality. She wasn't built to catch feelings for anyone. Maeve exhaled softly. With this realization, a weight lifted from her shoulders. Three days went by without Byron showing up at the apartment. Maeve settled back into her solitary routine, going about her days as if nothing had changed.

During the day, Maeve scoured online jobs listings for design positions. In the evenings, she headed to Starlight Pub.

and had a

strict

dress

onto a barstool and struck up a conversation with de. Maeve rarely wore off-shoulder dresses, but she made an exception that night, stepping out of her comfort zone.

settled

Starlight Pub Pub only opened in t I in the

Maeve

the bartender, inquiring about job openings. Even a trainee position would work for her. The drinks at Starlight Pub were too pricey for her to afford regularly, but working there would make it easier to gather material for her comic.

"Interested I in learning to mix drinks? the bartender asked, sliding a c***il her way with a charming smile. "Next time I see the boss, I can put in a good word for you. But with a pretty face like yours. I'd be happy to mix drinks for you forever" Maeve hadn't expected such a corny line. She let out an awkward laugh, taking a sip of her drink to cover up her discomfort, She wasn't much of a drinker, so she made sure to pace herself. Downstairs, the bar was alive with warmth and cheerful conversation, but up in the VIP section on the second floor, it felt cold, like the heating had decided to give up.

Ray leaned against the railing, his eyes locked on Maeve down below. "Isn't that Byron's girl?" he said, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Looks like she's having a hell of a time with the bartender. What do you make of that, Byron?"