"She wanted me to sign a contract with the lab, and she apologized for Subject 1152."
Simon's tone was absolute.
"You rejected her!"
"That's a statement, not a question," Maeve replied smoothly.
Simon stared at her, his eyes swirling with complex emotions.
"When you initially agreed to join Lab C, you had an ulterior motive, didn't you?"
Maeve felt a flicker of surprise.
Simon Grover was significantly sharper than she had given him credit for.
He took a slow, calculated step toward her.
"Did I hit the nail on the head?"
Maeve remained perfectly unbothered.
"Why don't you take another guess? What exactly was my grand motive for infiltrating Lab C?"
They were standing so close now that only inches separated them.
"Lab C houses classified data that you intended to steal."
Maeve raised her index finger and gave it a slow wag.
"I don't think 'steal' is the appropriate verb here."
Simon's gaze darkened.
"Since you rejected the offer so ruthlessly today, I can only assume you've already acquired whatever you came for."
A provocative gleam danced in Maeve's eyes.
"What do you think?"
Simon reached out, attempting to forcefully grip her chin, but Maeve effortlessly caught his wrist mid-air.
"Getting physical is a terrible habit."
Her grip was terrifyingly strong, clamping down so hard that Simon couldn't even flinch away.
"Maeve, I never expected you to have so many hidden, unpredictable layers."
"Since we're laying all our cards on the table, why don't you explain why you've repeatedly spat on the Grover Family's invitations? Do you have a personal vendetta against us?"
Maeve's smile turned wicked.
"Keep guessing."
"Is it for Andres..." Simon began, but quickly shot down his own theory.
"No, you aren't a lovesick fool. You wouldn't orchestrate something this massive over petty jealousy."
Maeve finally released his hand.
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