The Heir's Secret Bride

Unfortunately, those who needed his medical expertise dared not challenge him. They could only butter him up.

But clearly. Byron was not the type to go soft.

"Find out who he has offended recently, stir the pot, and force him back to the country. Byron smirked coldly. "Those guys in the Secret Sect have been idle long enough. It's time they got little exercise." Archer could not help breaking into a cold sweat.

a

After so many years, Byron was finally unleashing those madmen.

He hoped that Jaylen had some thick skin and could take a hit.

The storage room on the third floor of the Mcdaniel residence was dim. Only a faint light shone through a window.

Maeve had been locked in here for three days. At first, someone would bring her water and food. But suddenly, that stopped last night.

The room was chilly at night, and nothing in the storage room could keep her warm. Maeve curled herself up as tightly as possible, trying to conserve some body heat. However, it was futile.

After a full day with no food, her blood sugar had plummeted, and her stomach issues were flaring up. Her head spun. her breathing grew shallow.

She could even feel a dull ache throbbing in her lower abdomen.

Maeve bit her lip. If this went on, she might lose her baby, even if her body could take it.

"Knock, knock."

Suddenly, there was a faint knock on the door.

Maeve looked up and saw pieces of chocolate being slipped in under the door..

They piled up in a small heap.

Surprise flashed across her eyes. She wondered who it could be

Maeve forced herself up and walked to the door. She then tapped on the door. "Thank you."

"Hehe. Came a little giggle from outside.

Maeve thought the voice sounded familiar. It must be that silly little girl.

So it was her.

She wondered how the girl knew she was being held here.

and

Doubt flashed across Maeve's mind. But the thought quickly faded as her body's weakness took over. She unwrapped a piece of chocolate and began to gulp it down. Halfway through, the door of the storage room suddenly flung open.

Maeve squinted at the bright light. Before she could see who it was, the chocolate was slapped out of her hand.

"You've got the nerve treat, Alexis's voice was dripping with contempt. "Thanks to you, Mr. Mcdaniel is still in a come. How do you even get an appetite now?"

Maeve choked on the half-swallowed chocolate.

She clenched her fists tightly and retorted in a hoarse voice, "I told you, I didn't hurt Mr. Mcdaniel. It wasn't me

"Hah, as if anyone would believe you! If it weren't for the fact that you're still useful, I would've thrown you in jail already?"

Maeve furrowed her brows. "Useful?"

"Mr. Mcdaniel is in a critical condition. Byron said that miracle doctor from the Chatterly family may be his last chance." Alexis' tone was cold. "You saved Mr. Chatterly before, and they owe you a favor. If you ask for help, they will definitely help you

Maeve heaved a sigh of relief.

She did not think that Alexis was taking advantage of her.

On the contrary, as long as she could help Gilbert, she'd be more than willing

The following noon arrived.

At the Chatterly residence, Maeve was led into the study on the fifth floor.

Wearing navy traditional clothes, Charles was practicing painting at his desk.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Chatterly Maeve greeted him with a polite smile. I'm sorry to disturb you."

Charles did not answer her. He continued to examine his work and said casually, "Come and help me prepare the paint."

Maeve hesitated for a second before nodding. "Okay."

She walked to the side of the desk, picked up the watercolors, and got to work.

Nearly an hour passed, and Charles did not say a word.

Maeve's wrist began to ache, but she kept her expression calm and composed, maintaining a steady rhythm as she prepared the paint.

She stole a glance at Charles's painting, and a trace of surprise flashed across her eyes.

The painting was highly abstract.

The paint danced wildly across the paper, making it nearly impossible to tell what it was supposed to be..

"So, what do you think of this painting?" Charles straightened up and asked her.

Maeve pondered briefly before responding tactfully, "Your style is quite unique." "In what way?"

"I'd say it's on the level of an abstract master in the watercolor wash painting industry."

Charles' hand paused mid-stroke as he stroked his beard. 'Is that a compliment or an insult?"

"Would you prefer the truth or a lie?"

Hearing this, Charles let out a dissatisfied grunt. He casually tossed aside the brush and walked around the desk before

09:07

Mon, Uct

making his way to the coffee table.

Then, he began to order Maeve around.

I'm thirsty. Come make me a pot of coffee," Charles said leisurely. "Let it steep for exactly six minutes, no more, no less, or I won't drink it."

He was clearly making things difficult for Maeve.

However, Maeve had no intention of demanding anything in return.

She was here to ask for help to save Gilbert's life, and she was prepared to be as humble as necessary.

Maeve lowered her gaze and picked up the ingredients on the table. She then began preparing the coffee with graceful and practiced motions. Her slender hands moved fluidly as if painting a picture themselves. A dark glint flickered in Charles' eyes.

"I heard you come from a modest background. How did your parents manage to teach you the art of coffee?"

Maeve smiled lightly. "I picked it up on my own."

Of course, her parents would never have taken the time to teach her such things.

She had learned it while working a part-time cleaning job in college at a barista's house.

When the coffee was done, Maeve poured a glass for Charles, filling it precisely to

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percent.

Charles tapped his fingers lightly on the table and took a sip of the coffee.

Maeve waited nervously for his judgment.

"It's just average" Charles frowned. After setting down the glass, he went straight to the point. "You came today to ask my grandson to help treat someone, right?" "Yes. I'd be grateful if you could help."

"Well, you're probably aware my grandson has a rather particular temperament, along with his own strict rules about who he will and won't treat?"

Maeve nodded. "I know. As long as Dr. Chatterly is willing to help, I'm willing to pay any price."

Charles gave a dismissive chuckle. "I've heard that line countless times. It's hardly new."

His tone

was

soft, and Maeve did not catch what he said. "Pardon?"

"Anyone can claim they'd do whatever it takes, but very few can follow through. Charles' eyes carried a hint of arrogance, but it disappeared in an instant. "Words are cheap." Understanding the sarcasm in his words, Maeve clenched her fists on her knees.

Tell me what you'd like me to do. If it's within my power, I'll give it everything I've got."

Charles let out a mocking laugh. "I heard you're a designer."

""Yes, I am"

"In that case, give me one of your hands as the price" Charles replied as if it were the most casual request in the world.

Maeve's eyes wideneil

"You want... one of my hands?"

Charles looked at her, seemingly unsurprised by her reaction. "What's wrong? Dirin't you just say you'd do anything?"

"It's not that. I just...

Before Maeve could finish her sentence, Charles stood up and sal coldly, "ver make things difficult for others. If you're unwilling. Ms. Reese, you may leave."