The Heir's Secret Bride

Chapter

18

He shot a glance at the scruffy brown pup, then turned back to Maeve, eyebrows raised, clearly questioning her bizarre. anties.

Maeve's anger vanished in an instant. She pulled back the hand she'd been waving at the dog, her face flushing as a wave of heat spread across her cheeks and ears, turning them a deep shade of red. "I-I wasn't arguing with it," she stammered, her voice shaky. "I was just... reasoning with it."

Byron had just come from a negotiation, still carrying the scent of alcohol and a lingering bad mood. But when Maeve offered her ridiculously naive explanation, a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. That amusement quickly faded when his eyes fell on the torn collar of her shirt. His expression darkened, and he asked, "What the hell happened to your clothes?"

His gaze moved from her collar to the red marks on her neck, and his frown deepened. "Get in the car."

Maeve's checks cooled as she nodded and slipped into the passenger seat. As she fastened her seatbelt, she glanced around at the sleek, luxurious interior and asked, "Is this your boss's car? Are you even allowed to be driving it?" eah. Byron replied nonchalantly.

Maeve's eyes widened. She recognized this was a Maybach-definitely a sign that Byron's boss was someone important. Even the license plate, with its elite number, was enough to make that clear. She wondered if the earlier chase had something to do with his boss. She frowned, thinking to herself. Must be rough working for someone that high up.

Byron noticed her awkwardly trying to cover her torn collar, her attempts doing little to hide the smooth skin underneath.

Without looking directly at her, he shrugged off his coat and draped it over her lap. "Put this on."

Maeve looked down at the coat, then back up at him with a small, grateful smile. "Thanks."

The coat still carried the warmth of of Byron's body, and since Maeve was petite, it nearly reached her calves, enveloping her in its warmth. Byron nodded odded briefly, started the engine, and drove off.

After they had driven for a while, Byron asked, "How'd you hurt your hand?"

Maeve's

"If

fingers paused as she

as she adjusted her slee

hand instinctively clenching. She wasn't sure how to

that's fine,"

murmured her thanks and began searching for the tissue box, but it wasn't

word, pressed a hidden latch. The compartment slid open,

suddenly felt like a total country bumpkin. This car is really high-tech," she remarked with an awkward laugh, pulling out a tissue to clean the

wandered. She had no regrets about stabbing Jeff-if she hadn't acted,

Iris control f forever.

the relative safety of Byron's car, a new fear took hold. 'With the Graves family's influence, if Jeff seeks revenge, could Byron

and frowned, falling silent. The rest of the drive passed in

got home, Marve immediately grabbed some clothes

Byron went to the guest room, pulled out his phone, and called Archer, instructing him to find out where Maeve had been

sent over a video-surveillance footage from the private room where Maeve had been. The rich

initial detachment slowly shifting to a stern, intense focus. As Maeve drove the knife into Jeff's hand, a flash of surprise darkened his deep brown eyes. Just then, a knock came at the

I'm Mr.

done

can go ahead now," Maeve's soft voice came through, with a hint of

the screen as he rewound the video, replaying the scene

the third time, Byron opened the chat box and sent a message to Archer. [Handle the aftermath and also help Nestor secure the Yruhsall project.] Archer's reply came almost immediately. [Got it. I'll take care of

Securing the

be a game-changer for Nestor, effectively closing off any opportunity for Jeff to challenge him for control of the company Maeve called out to Byron once, then made her way

had occurred when she accidentally injured herself while stabbing Jeff. Since the wound

plan to struggle with that?" Byron asked, his voice casual. Maeve looked up in surprise to find him.

gaze.

shook, and the cotton swab she was holding fell to the floor. As she bent to retrieve it, she replied softly, "I'm almost

smeared across her skin, raising an eyebrow in silent observation. He didn't offer to help, simply watched her with a faint smirk as

flustered under his gaze. Her unfamiliarity with using her left hand made her movements shaky and clumsy. Frustration mounting, she finally turned to him

a loss for words, her frustration bubbling beneath the surface. It was clear to her now-he was definitely doing this

her younger brother, which instilled in her a strong sense of independence. She was accustomed to managing things on her own, never considering asking for help. Byron knew exactly how to push her buttons,

be both annoyed and amused by

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