The Heir's Secret Bride

"Wait!" Maeve hurriedly called out as Charles was about to turn around and leave. Almost immediately, she said, "One hand, right? I'll do it!"

Charles paused. He narrowell his eyes and looked at the pale-faced Maeve, who was pretending to be calm. Suddenly, he smiled.

He then pointed to the fruit knife on the table. Are you sure?

Maeve bit her lip and did not answer right away. Her mind raced, but eventually, she grabbed the knife.

Her right hand was still sore from preparing the paint just now, and it trembled slightly as she held the knife.

In one swift, decisive motion, she closed her eyes and prepared to slice into her left hand.

But the expected pain never came.

Instead, a cool hand had gripped her wrist.

Maeve opened her eyes in shock and saw Charles who was now standing before her. He said in confusion, "You..."

"Ms. Reese, if I'm not mistaken, you're doing this for someone else." Charles' voice was hoarse and utterly cold. You're giving up your hand to save someone else? Are you out of your mind?" Maeve barely registered the harshness in his tone, but she was not angry.

Perhaps it was because she hadn't eaten for too long, and she felt emotionally numb.

She did not have the strength to think further.

Hence, when she heard this, she remained calm. "Doctors save lives in exchange for payment. Sometimes it's money. sometimes it's something even more valuable."

believe this is a fair trade, and I'm willing to pay whatever it takes. It's the result that matters, not who it's for."

Maeve might not have realized it, but she sounded ruthless when she said that

Being ruthless was one thing.

But it was pretty scary to see someone behaving so ruthlessly while being sober.

Charles eyes darkened.

Perhaps she had convinced him, or maybe he had his reasons. Either way, he released her wrist and muttered indifferently. "Fine, you pass."

Maeve looked stunned. "You mean... I don't have to give up my hand?"

Charles sneered. "Why would I need your hand? To make soup?

Then are you willing to help me?"

"Yes, I'll go visit Mr. Mcdaniel tomorrow." Charles walked back to his desk, picked up his brush, and continued, "As for the price, I'll decide that later."

Joy filled Maeve's eyes. Her hand relaxed, and the knife clattered to the floor.

She picked it up and placed it back on the table before saying to Charles, who had resumed painting again. "Thank you"

Charles gave no response

Not pressing him further, Marve turned to leave.

As she reached the door of the study, she suddenly thought of something. Then, she turned around and asked. "I have a question. If you never planned to take my hand, then why make that demand?" It was as if he wanted to watch her squirm.

Charles cast her a sidelong glance. "Anyone too afraid of death isn't worth my time."

Hearing this. Maeve was not surprised at all. Realization dawned on her.

She smiled faintly and said. "Mr. Chatterly, you indeed have quite the character."

A trace of surprise appeared on Charles' calm face in an instant.

After a long silence, he spoke again in a voice that suddenly seemed younger and more distant.

"You've only met my grandfather once. How can you tell?"

Maeve observed his slender figure after he straightened his back. A strange blend of cynicism and detachment emanated from him

-His light brown eyes were indifferent.

He seemed to look right through the world as if nothing truly mattered.

He didn't look like a doctor. Instead, he looked more like a demon who was used to killing people.

Maeve pursed her lips and answered truthfully. "You spent 30 minutes painting without bending your back or showing any strain. I suspected then that you weren't Mr. Chatterly.

"And when you asked for my hand, I knew I was facing the miracle doctor himself."

Charles' eyes turned gloomy. "So, you were just putting on a show for me?"

"Not at all," Maeve responded, "I figured out who you were, but I had no idea what you were thinking. Even if I knew who you were from the beginning. I would have made the same choice. Charles studied her calm and beautiful face for a long time before breaking into a smile.

""Get out."

Marve nodded and left the study.

After the door clicked shut, Charles put down his brush and ran a finger along the edge of his jaw. After a moment, he peeled away a layer of thin, almost translucent skin.

He also took off the silver hair he wore.

Now revealed, his skin was pale, and he looked cold. He had dark brows as fine as willow leaves, eyes that glinted like starlight, and a single red mole under his left eye-a touch of crimson that made his sharp, haunted features seem almost dangerously alluring. His hair fell all the way to his waist, yet he didn't look feminine. It gave him the air of an ancient, carefree poet.Belonging to NôvelDrama.Org.

Jaylen casually threw the mask into the trash can and continued painting.

Halfway through, he paused, and a smirk tugged at his lips.

"Interesting."

He liked interesting people.

They made life feel less dull.

After the Chatterly family's matter was settled, Maeve was brought back to the Mcdaniel family by Alexis.

When she entered, she was surprised to see Byron here. Maeve was stunned for a few seconds, and she felt a sharp pang hitting her chest.

"Byron, you're back?" Alexis stepped forward and asked, "How is your grandfather? The Chatterly family had already agreed to help. They'll go to the hospital tomorrow."

"Nothing much changed. Byron walked past Alexis to reach Maeve. He held her wrist and said, 'ed to talk to her. You should get some rest.

Alexis frowned. "No, she needs to stay in the storage room. What if she..."

"Once the police finish their investigation, you can punish her however you like." Byron's expression was cold as he led Maeve to the dining room.

Alexis stood there, fuming.

She was doing this for Byron's sake!

What if Maeve suddenly acted up and injured him too?

Maeve felt even more complicated than Alexis.

She had assumed that Byron had taken the time to come back from the hospital to question her about everything that had happened that day and whether she had stolen anything before assaulting Gilbert. But he did something out of expectation.

Byron had the chef prepare another table of dishes. Glancing at his watch, he said in a low voice, "You've got 30 minutes."

Maeve wasn't sure what he was up to. She asked in confusion, "Didn't you say you wanted to talk?"

"We'll talk after you eat."

"Why don't you just tell me now? I'm too nervous to eat with you staring at me like that."

Byron narrowed his eyes. "Look who's suddenly found her backbone. Funny, considering you didn't seem so tough when she locked you up. You were fine going hungry for a day"

Maeve choked on her words and could not help but retort, "Of course, I'd stand up for myself if I could. But when your mother snaps her fingers, there are plenty of people willing to back her up. I'm hardly a match for any of them, am I?*