The Heir's Secret Bride

The black Spyker stopped by the roadside. Byron carried Maeve and walked over, ignoring her kitten-like struggles as he shoved her into the passenger seat.

Maeve felt a bit dizzy. She tried to get out but was firmly pressed back by Byron, who held her waist.

"What are you doing?!" She glared angrily at him. "I already said I don't want to go back. Don't you understand?"

"Are you so happy you don't want to go home?" he asked, his voice cold.

"Aren't you the same?" Maeve shot back. "I thought it was a tacit understanding between us that we'd play our own games

outside."

Byron's expression darkened as he looked at her coldly. "Is this how you ruin your body when I'm not around?"

"This is my own body. What does it have to do with you?" Maeve snapped back, unwilling to back down.

Byron pinched her chin, his dark eyes dangerous as he stared at her. "Repeat it. It has nothing to do with me?"

"I don't mind saying it ten times. Besides, who are you to interfere in my matters?" Thinking of how he had deliberately avoided her recently, Maeve's bright eyes flared with anger. Her delicate finger poked his chest, and with a mocking smile, she said, "Don't forget your identity, ex-husband." The word "ex-husband" instantly made Byron's face darken.

Their gazes clashed in the air, like a needle facing a sharp edge, each holding onto their own pride, unwilling to lower their heads first.

In the end, Byron stood up with a cold expression, slammed the door on her side, and walked around the front of the car to the driver's seat. Maeve's brain, now increasingly affected by the alcohol, started to betray her. When she tried to get out of the car, the door was already locked.

She was about to say something, but the car shot forward like an arrow released from a bow. The sudden jolt made her stomach churn.

Maeve could not utter a word, clutching her burning stomach. Her face turned pale as paper.NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

'Was it her weakened constitution, or had the cocktail hit her harder this time?' Byron thought. 'Why did she feel so miserable?'

Byron glanced at Maeve in the rearview mirror as she bent over in pain. His expression remained cold and indifferent, but without him realizing, the car's speed gradually slowed.

When they reached the apartment building, Maeve was in so much pain she could hardly bear it anymore, leaning against the seat, nearly collapsing.

Byron carried her upstairs without saying a word.

The two children were already asleep, and the apartment was silent.

After Byron put Maeve down in the bedroom, he walked out without pausing and closed the door behind him.

Disappointment, like a thorny vine, quietly wrapped around her heart, tightening with each passing moment. The intermittent pain she felt was far worse than the discomfort from her stomach. Chapter 352

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Perhaps it was the pain that kept her so alert-this was the first time Maeve was so sober after drinking, wanting to sleep but

unable to.

After an unknown amount of time, the door was quietly pushed open again.

Almost inaudible footsteps approached.

Byron first placed a bowl on the table, then gently pulled back the blanket covering Maeve, urging her to sit up and drink the hangover remedy,

Unexpectedly, when Byron lifted the blanket, he saw that Maeve had already fallen asleep.

She was not sleeping peacefully. Her cheeks were flushed, her brows tightly furrowed, and her red lips were pressed firmly together. Even in her sleep, she was clearly battling her physical discomfort. Byron pursed his thin lips, sitting on the edge of the bed and propping her up against him. "Maeve, wake up," he said softly.

"Ugh..." Maeve groggily responded, still half-asleep,

She blinked her eyes open, and in her haze, when she saw Byron, she instinctively blurted out, "Why are you still at my house? Hurry up and leave. It won't be good if my husband finds you here." Byron narrowed his eyes and asked, "Who's your husband?"

"I don't know," Maeve muttered, clearly still disoriented.

"You don't?" Byron asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

"Yeah. My relationship with him isn't very stable. Sometimes, I can't even remember him," Maeve admitted, her words slurred with exhaustion.

Byron's lips curled slightly as he leaned in and asked, "Do you still remember who I am?"

Maeve's eyes were filled with a watery gleam as she stared at him for several seconds. "Do you think I'm so stupid that I can't even recognize my lover? I already said you're leaving soon. What if my husband finds out about our affair and breaks us apart?" Byron stared at her, his temples twitching with every word she said. 'Lover. Adultery. Breaking the lovebirds apart.

Even in this situation, she dared to say she was not stupid.

Byron sighed in exasperation. "Next time, if you dare touch alcohol again," he warned her in a harsh tone. He picked up the bowl of liquid from the table. "Open your mouth and drink the hangover remedy."

Maeve, weakly leaning against his shoulder, opened her mouth like a queen. "Ah."

Byron looked at her, speechless.

He resigned himself to fate and fed her the hangover remedy one mouthful at a time. He seemed impatient, but his movements were gentle and slow, making sure not to spill a single drop.

After she finished the soup, Byron stuffed her back under the blanket, his expression cold as he ordered, "Close your eyes and sleep."

Maeve, however, was not about to obey him. Her eyes were wide open, filled with worry. "You should go. My husband will be back soon."

Byron sneered. "If he dares to come, I'll break his legs."

Sun, Nov

Kiss

The hidden ruthlessness in his voice made Maeve tremble involuntarily. Her red lips pursed as she said, "You're so fierce, just like Byron."

Byron's expression darkened, but he said nothing.

Maeve pouted, looking a little aggrieved. "Why don't you break Byron's legs? Anyway, when he has legs, he just avoids me. He won't even give me time to say a few words." hen him?

Byron's gaze instantly became complicated as he looked at her deeply. "What do you want to tell him?"

"If I tell you, will you keep it a secret for me?" Maeve asked.

"Yeah," Byron replied.

Maeve, completely out of her senses, smiled foolishly and waved at Byron. When he leaned in, she whispered into his ear, "Actually, I also hid a child. I didn't let him know." Byron's eyes suddenly darkened. He knew. And he had known for three days.

The little one staying at her place was her and Jaylen's son.

Byron clenched his fists, a biting coldness radiating from his handsome face.

Oblivious to the tension, Maeve continued in his ear, "This child is..."

"Enough," Byron coldly interrupted. "I have no interest in this matter nor want to know anything related to that child. My tolerance isn't large enough to accept him."

Byron suddenly stood up, his gaze cold and mocking as he stared at Maeve. "Maeve, did you agree to be Jaylen's nancée because you owe him a favor or because you feel guilty?" Maeve's mind was a mess, and she did not understand what he meant.

Byron did not expect her to give an answer in her current state. He restrained the emotions swirling inside him and said, "Let's both calm down and not see each other for a while." Without waiting for Maeve to respond, he left the bedroom with long strides.

Maeve let out a small burp, confusion flashing in her eyes, thinking, 'Why did he leave before I could finish speaking? Was he leaving to report me to Byr