The Heir's Secret Bride



Maeve had spent most of the last few days drifting in and out of sleep, too exhausted to do anything, not even reach out to anyone.

Even Alex, who she hadn't heard from much lately, could sense something was wrong and shot her a message to check-in.

But Byron? Not a word.

He hadn't said anything since the day he hung up on her--no calls, no texts--just complete radio silence.

Maybe it was the sickness making her more emotional than usual, but her throat tightened, and a wave of stinging heat hit her eyes. Maeve bit down hard on her lip, refusing to let the tears fall. She wasn't about to feel sorry for herself.

When she got better, she'd book ten gorgeous male models and have a blast to rub it in Byron's face.

She thought, 'Who needed him, anyway?'

Just then, the door creaked open.

Maeve glanced up and squinted at the figure standing in front of her, completely suited up in protective gear. She hesitated for a second, then asked, "Jaylen?"

"Yeah, it's me." Jaylen moved closer, checking her temperature, then her blood pressure and heart rate. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"It's manageable now. Way better than when I was out cold," she answered.

That had been its kind of hell--caught in the space between sleep and wakefulness, completely aware but powerless to break free from it.

Jaylen's expression softened, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Don't stress, we're close to having the antidote ready. You won't have to wait too much longer."

"Thanks..." Maeve's voice faltered as her gaze lowered. "Even though you're not feeling well either, you're still pushing yourself to help me. I--"

Jaylen brushed a hand over her hair gently, cutting her off. "No need to say anything. Just treat me to some coffee once you're better, okay? I've been missing that special brew of yours."

He'd tried plenty of coffee over the years, but nothing had ever hit the spot quite like Maeve's.

Her face lit up with a smile. "You can drink as much as you want--bottomless refills!"

Jaylen chuckled, his eyes softening as he looked at her.

"You must be starving after sleeping so long. I brought you lunch--it's all healthy, but fair warning, it's pretty bland. You'll have to put up with it."Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

"Thanks, I'll manage."

Maeve reached for her fork, about to start eating, when she noticed the thick curtain pulled across one side of the room. Frowning, she pointed to it. "Why's that curtain there? Is someone else over there?"

The material was so heavy, she couldn't see a thing behind it.

Jaylen's mouth tightened slightly under his mask, but he kept his voice steady. "Just stay on this side, okay? There's another patient over there."

Maeve bit her lip, worry gnawing at her. "Already? Another infected patient? Did I...

Jaylen shook his head. "No, you weren't contagious when your symptoms first showed up. It's not because of you. I just found out--there've been dozens of cases in Kleymond in the last two weeks. They've kept it quiet to avoid causing a panic. But right now, only two people have the mutated strain."

Maeve scratched her cheek. "So, what? I'm just unlucky, huh? The virus decides to mutate right when it hits me and this other poor soul."

The other patients only needed one dose of Antidote X and they were fine.

But she and this other unlucky person? They'd have to sit tight until Jaylen finished developing the new cure.

Of course, it had to be them. Just their luck.

Jaylen looked like he was trying to figure something out, but he didn't say anything more, just gave her a nod and left the room.

Once he was gone, Maeve forced herself to eat, even though the bland food only added to the nausea already churning in her stomach.

Honestly, Maeve could hardly recognize her own hands anymore.

She had never been this skinny before.

Looking in the mirror, she barely recognized the person staring back at her.

If her little ones saw her like this, they'd probably cry enough tears to fill a river.

That thought alone made Maeve take a few extra spoonfuls, determined to get back the weight she'd lost.

After she finished eating, feeling a little more energized, Maeve asked the nurse for some paper and a pen.

The Islaton Private International Kindergarten uniform design competition was only two weeks away, and she still hadn't finished her sketches. Considering how much time the design and production would take, two weeks felt like it was cutting it close.

Rubbing her temples, Maeve started to sketch out some rough lines on the paper.

For the spring and summer uniforms, she was thinking of a fresh, woodsy look with a hint of something exotic--pure and elegant at the same time.

She planned to use olive branch details on the collars and cuffs, embroidered in gold thread to give the uniforms a subtle but luxurious touch.

With the idea clear in her mind, translating it to paper became much easier.

After tweaking the details over and over, Maeve finally felt satisfied with the final design.

All that was left now was to send it off for production.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room's partition, Byron was in the middle of an important video conference.

Once the meeting wrapped up, he dove straight into some urgent work emails.

Archer, the only person in the company who knew Byron was in the hospital, had hesitated several times before gently suggesting that maybe his boss should take it easy and focus on getting better. Byron casually adjusted his silver-rimmed glasses and replied in an indifferent tone, "I've got nothing else to do while I'm here. Might as well push the next project forward."

Archer didn't know how to respond to that. He'd underestimated the situation.

Other people in the hospital might spend their downtime browsing the internet, but Byron was working himself to the bone.

Now, in Archer's eyes, it was no wonder Byron was a CEO. People like him were on a whole other level.

Thanks to his strong immune system, the virus hadn't fully taken hold in Byron's body yet. Other than feeling a little tired, he didn't have many symptoms.

By the time he finished his work, the clock on the wall read ten o'clock.

Byron rubbed the back of his neck and glanced toward the partition, looking thoughtful.

He took off his glasses and set them aside, then stood and walked over to the other side of the room.

By now, Maeve should be fast asleep.

Pulling back the curtain, he found her curled up on her side, just as he expected.

Her right hand was tucked under her cheek, her eyes closed, with long lashes casting soft shadows over her skin. She looked peaceful, almost angelic.

But she was too thin.

The weight she'd worked so hard to gain was all gone.

Byron's brow furrowed as he reached down and gently tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

Maeve's eyelashes fluttered, and she slowly opened her eyes, locking onto his.

Byron froze, his hand hovering mid-air, unsure whether to pull it back or keep going.

Still half-asleep, Maeve blinked up at him and muttered, "Ugh, why are you in my dream? Go away, go away."

Byron didn't flinch, instead pinching her cheek lightly. "What if I don't? What are you gonna do about it?"

"Ugh, you're so annoying," Maeve grumbled, sounding frustrated. "When I want to see you, you're nowhere to be found. But when I don't, you show up in my dream, coming and going like you own the place. Who permitted you?" Byron's eyes gleamed with amusement. "You want to see me? When?"

Even in her dream, Maeve wasn't about to admit that. She shut her eyes tight, hoping he would disappear if she just ignored him.

Byron smirked, watching her attempt to escape him.

"You close your eyes like that--are you hoping I'll kiss you?" he teased.

Maeve silently cursed him for being so shameless, still confused as to why she couldn't control her dream. 'Why is his voice still there?' she wondered.

Before she could fully process what was happening, she felt the warm, soft press of his lips against hers.