One look told him something was wrong. Maeve's face was drawn, her eyes bloodshot, and there was a feverish flush under the pallor.
He lifted a hand and touched her forehead.
His expression darkened. "You're running a fever."
Maeve swatted his hand away—not hard, but firm—and nodded toward the scene he'd just bulldozed into. "What is all this?"
God, how annoying.
This was the second time Andres had ruined her chance to blow off steam.
She'd been seconds away from getting water dumped on her. Seconds away from having a perfect excuse to hit back.
Andres didn't bother explaining. He slid an arm under her knees, another behind her back, and lifted her as if she weighed nothing.
"Come home," he said, leaving no room for argument.
As he carried her past the crowd, he didn't even spare them a glance.
Not even Mateo—who'd clearly been trying to play hero.
Maeve was exhausted down to her bones—body and mind.
Fine.
If someone wanted to handle the trash for her, she wasn't going to fight for the privilege.
She let Andres carry her, curling against him like a cat that had finally decided it was done roaming.
Not long after she got into the car, she fell asleep in his arms.
She slept a long time.
When she woke again, it was three in the afternoon.
A stack of documents sat near Andres. When he noticed her stirring, he set the contract aside and helped her sit up, arranging pillows behind her until she was comfortable.
He checked her temperature with a forehead scanner. A low-grade fever—still up. He pressed a cool compress to her forehead. "The doctor said you've been overworking yourself and caught a chill. You got a fever shot before he left, and he said you need to rest and take your meds on schedule for the next few days."
He steadied her by the shoulders. "How do you feel?"
Maeve's head was foggy. "Dizzy. And… hungry."
Maeve took a small sip of porridge. "If I'm not panicking, why are you?"
Then, to make sure he didn't go off and play savior behind her back, she said evenly, "I want to see what else the Morales family has. Once I know their full hand, I'll know how to play mine."
Andres held her gaze for a moment, then let it go. "Fine."
He shifted topics, voice quieter. "These last two days…"
Maeve already knew what he was asking. "Lab."
His annoyance flashed. "You worked for two days and two nights without sleeping?"
"I needed some data," she said, brushing it off.
Andres studied her hard. "Is this about the Puzzle Sphere? Are you still mad at me?"
A gift from an ex sitting in his house—Maeve having feelings about that would've been normal.
Maeve blinked, genuinely confused. "What about the Puzzle Sphere?"

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