The Heir's Secret Bride

3

"Alright." Maeve quickly set up the drawing board and glanced at the man. "Feel free to pose however you like. I'll start sketching now."

The man nodded but didn't change his posture. He sat upright, polite, and composed, like a university professor or a high-ranking lawyer, his presence exuding a solemnity that made it difficult to look directly at him. Maeve sized him up momentarily, mentally framing the composition before she began to draw.

She had been making money from her art recently, not for her skill, but for speed.

While others took at least thirty minutes for a single piece, she could finish one in just fifteen. Those who paid her were always satisfied.

If anyone who knew Maeve found out she'd ditched her design career to perform on the streets, they'd be baffled, to say the least.

"Done!" Maeve handed the sketch to him with a smile. "Take a look and let me know if anything needs tweaking."

The man took the drawing and studied it, his gaze meeting the reflection of himself on the paper. He was surprised.novelbin

The strokes were soft yet powerful. The interplay of light and shadow was expertly done, and the details of his facial features were so lifelike it almost felt like a breeze was rippling across the water in the painting.

A person's character could be seen in their work. Only someone as gentle as Maeve could capture these subtle beauties and infuse them into her art.

"You're very talented. I really like it," the man said, his pale lips curling into an uncharacteristically rare smile. Then, his tone shifted. "Could I ask you a favor? There's a small shop nearby. Could you buy me a bottle of water?" Maeve was puzzled and pondered, 'Why doesn't he go himself?' But she didn't ask. Maybe there was a reason. She took the money he handed her and asked him to keep an eye on the easel while she went.

By the time she returned with the water, the easel was abandoned. There was no sign of him.

Instead, Maeve noticed something under her drawing paper.

It was a stack of money.

The paper had two bold characters scrawled on it: For your

talent.

Was it payment for the drawing, or for the water? Maeve glanced at the bottle in her hand and couldn't help but think that the water was probably part of the payment too.

It was rare to come across a person who was both rich and generous.

But today, with a decent tip and three paintings sold, Maeve decided to call it a day. She packed up her easel, returned to her cozy Airbnb, and headed to a jazz café for some live music.

The stage lit up with the smooth sounds of Louis Armstrong's What a Wonderful World. She had arrived just in time.

A steaming cup of coffee sat on the table next to her, paired with a slice of cake. As the soulful jazz wove itself into the cool evening breeze drifting in through the window, Maeve let herself melt into the moment, setting aside the worries she wasn't ready to face. As dusk settled, the rain began to fall, gently tapping against the window. It was another kind of quiet pleasure.

3

"Did you check the trending topics today? Zephyr Corp handed over their nearly-secured project to the Mcdaniel Group. Are those two companies planning some kind of partnership?" "If those two giants team up, what chance do the rest of us have?

"Speaking of the McDaniel Group, their Instagram has been hosting giveaways non-stop. And their slogan? Weird as hell. 'Wherever you are, Stay safe? What's that even supposed to mean?" "Who cares? I've reposted every single one. Gotta increase my odels, right?"

At the mention of "Wherever you are, Stay safe" Maeve froze her hand midway to her coffee cup. The sweet aftertaste lingering in her mouth turned faintly bitter,

If she wasn't mistaken, those words were probably a message from Byron, spoken from afar.

Unable to find her, he had stirred up a buzz through the giveaways, hoping to catch her attention.

In the end, those words would inevitably find their way to her ears.

She set the cup down carefully, grabbed the umbrella leaning against the table, and made her way downstairs. Stepping out, she opened the umbrella and disappeared into the misty rain.

When she returned to the guesthouse, there was tension in the air. The sound of tables and chairs scraping against the floor rang in her ears.

"How many times do I have to tell you? My son has nothing to do with this case! He doesn't have time to testify for you. Get out!" The guesthouse owner, Esme's angry voice filtered through the door.

Maeve hesitated before opening it,just in time to hear a familiar voice. "Is there any room available? It's raining outside." Esme's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "No, we're fully booked! Don't even think about trying anything sneaky, I won't agree to it!"

The tension in the room was palpable, and just as voices threatened to rise further, Maeve placed her dripping umbrella by the door and stepped inside.

"What's going on here, Esme?" she asked, glancing between the two.

Esme's demeanor shifted in an instant when she saw Maeve. Her scowl transformed into a bright, almost exaggerated smile. "Oh, Maeve! You're back! I saw the rain earlier and was just about to send someone to bring you an umbrella, but I got distracted by this... unpleasant situation."

His outfit was understated yet refined, a fine shirt and tailored black pants, while his demeanor carried an air of quiet distinction that set him apart.

She thought, 'It was him, the kind stranger from earlier that afternoon.'

"It's you?" Maeve said, her surprise evident. "The payment you gave was way more than the sketch was worth. And thank you for the water, by the way."

Aiden Soar gave a slight nod. "You deserved it. No need to thank me."

Esme, noticing Maeve's familiarity with him, leaned in. "Ms. Reese, are you two friends? If he's with you, I'll make sure he gets a room."

Maeve hesitated briefly before nodding. "Yes, we've met. Thank you for accommodating him, Esme."

"No need to thank me," Esme said warmly. "I owe you so much already. That medicine you gave me has been the only

reason I can sleep through the night these days."

Maeve and Esme exchanged a few more pleasant words before the latter, still visibly unkind toward Aiden, reluctantly handed him a room key.

As a new guest rang the desk bell, Esme excused herself and bustled away.

"Thanks for earlier," Aiden said to Maeve, his tone polite but measured. "I have my reasons for needing to stay here. If you hadn't stepped in, she likely wouldn't have changed her mind." Maeve waved him off. "It's no big deal, just a little talking. But even though I helped, I hope you won't make trouble for the innkeeper while you're staying here. She's got enough on her plate as it is." "Of course," Aiden said after a moment's thought. "You seem close to her?"

Maeve shrugged. "When I first got to Naso, I was flat broke. She took pity on me and let me stay in exchange for bartering. One thing led to another, and we got to know each other."

It was sheer luck that she had a habit of carrying medicine with her, medicine the innkeeper desperately needed for her back pain. Without it, Maeve would have ended up sleeping on the streets. Aiden nodded, though his expression gave nothing away. "I see. He didn't press further.

Remembering his earlier generosity, Maeve offered, "I'm heading to the restaurant for dinner. Care to join me?"

"It'd be my pleasure," Aiden replied. Then, as if realizing something, he added, "By the way, I didn't catch your name."

Maeve hesitated. A fleeting thought crossed her mind: she had come all this way to leave her old life behind-why not

f change her name as well?

"Call me Rosie," she said finally.

"Rosie," Aiden repeated thoughtfully. "It's a unique name. I'm Aiden. Nice to meet you."

He extended his hand to her with a faint, almost imperceptible smile.

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