Maeve was stunned. "Why do you think that's me?"

"It is you, Mom," Will said firmly. "But younger than now."

Maeve felt bitter and upset. Even her son got it wrong. She must be very similar to Byron's first love, but she hadn't realized it before.

"That person isn't Mom. She's your father's first love!" Theo exclaimed.

Will opened his mouth slightly, disbelief etched on his face. Theo slapped the sofa angrily. "He still has a photo of his first love? Bad man!"

"Is it really not you, Mom?" Will mused, still feeling a strong resemblance between the woman in the painting and his mother. "Mom, did you see Dad when you were in school?"

Maeve patted his head, her eyes filled with pity. "No, if I had seen him before, I probably wouldn't have forgotten." Byron's face and unique temperament were unmistakable. She couldn't forget such a man if she had seen him before.

However, her clearest memory of high school was her final year. After a university visit, Horace stole money from the family. Scott and Valda wrongly accused Maeve, finding $40 in her pocket. They beat her and made her kneel outside in the rain as punishment. That night, she ran a high fever and nearly fainted. Even when she called an ambulance, Valda scolded her. Since then, her memory had become hazy.

One thing was certain: she had never seen Byron before, and his first love could not be her. Her high school uniform was completely different from the girl's in the painting.

Will remained unconvinced until Maeve went to shower. Theo nudged him. "You have to be discreet this time. Mommy said you can't tell anyone, including Dad. Betray us, and I'll graffiti your ECE in the middle of the night!"

Will, unusually compliant, said, "I know. I won't tell Dad. A gentleman never goes back on his word."

He was annoyed by his parents' foolishness. Why couldn't Dad forget his first love, now that he had Mom? He couldn't bear it any longer and jumped off the sofa.

"Where are you going?" Theo called.

"To meditate," Will replied, running away.

In the master bedroom of the apartment across the way, Byron took his sleeping pills. Just as he was drifting off, he heard rhythmic drumming. He opened his eyes, frowning. The drumming persisted, forcing him to get up.

In the living room, Will sat drumming. The insistent rhythm was a headache for his father.

Byron's eyebrows twitched. "Will, why aren't you sleeping? It's late."

Will kept his eyes closed. "Daddy, I can't figure it out."

"Figure out what?" Byron sighed.

"To succeed, we must focus," Will said calmly. "People should be loyal. Fickleness is bad. Don't you think so?"

Byron massaged his temples. "Think about it tomorrow. Children need sleep to grow tall."

"I can't sleep," Will insisted.

"What happened?" Byron asked, helpless.

"Thinking of that woman's portrait in your study, not Mom, hurts my heart," Will confessed.

Byron rolled his eyes. "So you've been drumming all this time?"

He scooped Will up and carried him back to his room. Will remained cross-legged, his expression unchanged.

"Go to sleep. Kids shouldn't worry about adults," Byron said, patting his head.

Will remained motionless. "I'll grow up sooner or later."

Leaving Will's room, Byron entered his study. He picked up the photo, studying the faded sketch. His thin eyelids hid his troubled thoughts. "Loyal? What did Will mean?"

The next day, Byron arranged a chauffeur for Will and Theo. This ensured that Maeve would inevitably encounter him while dropping Theo off at kindergarten.

After dropping Will off, Byron walked to his car, ignoring Maeve. Despite expecting this, Maeve felt a pang of loss. She composed herself and walked to the roadside. Due to traffic changes, she couldn't drive to the studio. A black Spyker stopped before her.

The driver lowered the window. "Ms. Reese. Please get in. I'll give you a ride."

Maeve noticed the closed back window and her heart leaped. It was Byron's car; the driver wouldn't do this without his permission.

"Thank you," she murmured, getting in.

Byron crossed his arms, eyes closed, seemingly avoiding her.

Due to the previous day's argument, Maeve remained silent, gazing out the window. A tense silence hung between them, even the driver sensing their discord.

Approaching a turn, the driver swerved sharply. The sudden movement threw Maeve onto Byron.

"Mr. McDaniel, Ms. Reese. I'm sorry, the road is slippery," the driver explained.

"Be careful," Byron instructed calmly.

"Alright," the driver nodded.

Byron looked down at Maeve, still leaning against him. "Are you paralyzed?" he asked indifferently.