The Heir's Secret Bride

Even Maeve, who almost never lost her composure, felt a surge of anger boiling up inside her.

Why does helping him always come back to bite me? Is kindness really just a mistake?' she thought, her eyes burning with frustration.

All Maeve could feel was the sting on her lips. The moment Byron pulled away from that degrading kiss, her hand flew up. instinctively ready to slap him.

But Byron caught her wrist effortlessly, a mocking grin spreading across his face as he met her furious gaze. "What? Want another kiss?"

Maeve's cheeks flushed bright red as she yanked her hand away. You **d! Why do people like you even exist? Every time I try to help, you just turn it into shit!" Her voice shook with rage, barely keeping her frustration in check. Byron straightened up, his eyes cold as ice as he stared her down. "If you know I'm just gonna let you down, then stay the hell out of my way. Don't think I don't see through your little games."

She was so furious she could barely get the words out; her anger was reaching a boiling point. She should never have been so soft-hearted even if he dropped dead from that fever, it wouldn't have been her problem.

"Fine! If I ever give a damn about you again, I'll be the biggest fool on earth!" Maeve snapped, her face tight with anger as she stormed our of the room.

That night, Maeve would have gladly crashed on the couch rather than share a bed with Byron. But with the chilly autumn air and the unheated living room, it wasn't a real option. She'd probably end up with a cold by morning if she stayed out there..

As it got closer to eleven, and Byron was supposed to be asleep, Maeve slipped back into the bedroom. Wait a minute-this is my place. Why am I sneaking around?'

With that thought, she dropped the pretense and marched straight to the closet to grab a blanket.

As she rummaged through the closet, a faint groan of pain caught her ear. She bit her lip, trying to ignore it, grabbing the blanket and heading for the door.

But just as she was about to leave, the dim light from the bedside lamp highlighted Byron's face, contorted in pain.

He lay there quietly, his usually sharp, cold features softened into an expression of discomfort. His lips were flushed red, his face pale and drawn, his brows furrowed tightly. There wasn't a hint of peace on his face.

'Is he running a fever? Maeve wondered, torn between checking on him and remembering his past rotten behavior. "Maybe it's best to just leave him be. I'd be asking for trouble otherwise.

She bit her lower lip, clutching the blanket tightly as she quietly slipped out of the room.

Less than five minutes later, unable to shake off the worry gnawing at her, Maeve returned with a thermometer, her face a mix of reluctant concern and determination.

She told herself it was just her good deed for the day. If he tried anything funny again, she'd make sure to fight back without

hesitation

But Byron didn't move an inch as Maeve took his temperature. He didn't flinch or even bat an eyelid, as if he was completely out of it.

Maeve checked the thermometer-it read nearly 102 degrees Fahrenheit. With a fever that high, he'd definitely need a hospital. But then she remembered how much Byron hated hospitals, and there was no way she could drag him there on her

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Luckily, she found some fever reducers at home. After getting him to take the medicine, she filled a basin with warm water and began wiping his body down to help lower his temperature You better not blame me when you wake up, she muttered, taking advantage of Byron's unconscious state to speak her mind. "I didn't mean to touch you, but if I don't do something, you might end up with brain damage and turn into a vegetable. Then I'd really be screwed...

Maybe it was the medicine, but an hour later, Maeve checked Byron's temperature and saw it had dropped a bit.

To stay on top of things, she set an alarm to wake herself every two hours for another check. She kept this up until morning. when sheer exhaustion finally claimed her, and she drifted off to sleep.

Not long after, Byron woke to a dull ache in his temples and slowly opened his eyes. The throbbing was still there, but it wasn't as fierce as it had been the night before. He noticed his abdominal wound had been re-dressed, and it felt much better, with no real discomfort. He rubbed his temple and turned his head to see Maeve sleeping beside the bed, her head resting on the edge. His expression softened a little.

Here was the same woman who had vowed to stop caring about him, yet she had spent the entire night tending to him.

Byron's face betrayed a flicker of conflicted emotion. 'If this is just an act, then she's a damn good actress, he thought.

When Maeve woke up, Byron was already gone. She thought, He's just gotten over a fever and his wounds are barely healed, and he's off to work? Now that's dedication. But honestly, it's probably for the best. Running into him would've been really awkward. The memory of last night's forced kiss flashed through her mind, making her head poundOriginal from NôvelDrama.Org.

During her lunch break, Maeve gathered her things and caught a taxi home. Scott had taken the day off just to be there. when she arrived.

"You're back? Your mom filled me in on the details. So, is this whole 'married thing just a way to g asked, sipping his coffee with a nonchalant air.

get under Jeff's skin?" Scott

Maeve knew they wouldn't take her word for it, so she'd come prepared with her marriage license. She pulled it from her bag and flipped it open for her father to see. "I'm not just trying to get under anyone's skin. I'm really married

The official stamp on the marriage license caught Scott's eye instantly. His face went from calm to thundercloud in a heartbeat. With a furious motion, he slammed the coffee cup onto the floor, sending shards scattering at Maeve's feet.

"What the f*****k?" Scott bellowed, his face bright red with anger as he rose from his seat. "Who the hell gave you permission to marry without our say-so? Do you even realize the mess you've just made for us and the Graves family