Sweet Mischief’s Rollercoaster Romance
Chapter 522

Maggie's eyes snapped open in the darkness, her mind clearing as memories of Tom's words danced at the edges of her consciousness. She rolled onto her back, her gaze finding Tom standing in her room in the dead of night.

"Who's there?!" she blurted out, her voice tinged with sleep and confusion.

Tom's eyes burned with an intensity that sent fresh waves of recollection flooding Maggie's mind. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog of sleep.

With a shy rustle of sheets, she pulled the comforter over her head, hiding from Tom's penetrating gaze.

But Tom was relentless, flipping back the blanket. "You've been telling everyone you're hell-bent on marrying me. Have you gone mad?"

Maggie remained silent, turning away from him.

Undeterred, Tom pulled her to sit up. "I said yes."

Maggie's eyes widened in shock. "You said yes to what?"

Tom was dead serious. "To us getting married."

Maggie was bewildered. When exactly had she asked for his consent?

In a daze, Maggie felt like she had won the lottery-everything seemed unreal, floating in a state of disbelief.

"Have you been drinking?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

Tom leaned in close. "Do I smell like booze?"

Maggie shook her head. "Then I must be dreaming."

Tom slapped her leg sharply. "Does that hurt?"

"Ouch, yes!"

"Still dreaming?"

Maggie was silent, her annoyance growing. In retaliation, she slapped Tom's shoulder, leaving her hand awkwardly hovering in the air, unsure of what to do next.

She tried to explain, "You hit me, I hit you. We're even."

Tom realized she was not quite on the same page with him.

"Grandma and Grandpa have agreed to let Vivian marry me," he said.

Maggie was incredulous. "No way!"

Tom began to lay out his case. "Our mom's been sick, unable to handle business affairs for a couple of years now. You're still studying, and legally, there's no blood relation between us." Maggie had to admit that was true.

Tom started to tempt and coax her, still groggy from sleep. "What's my salary? How much does Byrne Enterprises make a month?"

Maggie's mind whirred, attempting to do the math, but before she could get anywhere, Tom added, "I'm just a simple cop. Without Byrne Enterprises, I couldn't afford a house in Havenbrook within a decade. But now, given my job, I'm not eligible to inherit Byrne Enterprises. If Mom leaves the company to you, where does that leave me?"

Not waiting for her response, he continued, "Even if you inherit the company and treat me well, what about when you get married? You'll have kids, and they'll inherit your company. And if I marry and have kids, won't I lose my claim to the company..." "Hold on! Simplify that, my head's spinning," Maggie interrupted.

Tom got straight to the point. "Mom and Dad, Grandma and Grandpa-they're not saints. Mom built a company from the ground up, and if she hands it over to you, then later to your kids, that's unfair to me."

"It's okay," Maggie said naively. "I'll just leave it to your son."

Tom pressed, "No one can guarantee the future. Even if you were a blood relative, which you're not, you can't count on their affection forever."

Maggie understood the harsh reality; after all, her last name was Rivers.

"So, what's your point, bro?"

Tom sighed. It was time to be blunt.

"Marry me."

Maggie, staring into Tom's earnest eyes, felt as if she'd been struck by lightning. Was he serious?

Tom explained, "At Byrne Enterprises, you need a Byrne identity. Marrying me would also infuriate Vivian, and... well, I saw more than I should have last night. I need to take responsibility."

Maggie was appalled. "No way! I refuse, I vehemently refuse. First off, I don't even want Byrne Enterprises; I'll give it back to Mom when she's better. Second, I've got plenty of ways to deal with Vivian without resorting to extremes. And lastly!" Her face flushed as she locked eyes with Tom. "Just pretend last night never happened. Can't we both just have amnesia?"

That night was going to be Maggie's dark secret, indelible and inescapable.

"It's too late," Tom stated plainly.

Maggie looked at him, puzzled.

"I mean, we slept together."

Maggie felt as if a thunderbolt had cleaved her in two. Her eyes went wide, her mouth agape, and with difficulty, she eked out a single word, "What?"

"I'm going home tonight and telling the folks that we've consummated our marriage."

Maggie felt like she was on fire, her temper flaring uncontrollably. "You're lying, none of that happened! My parents will never believe you!"

Tom countered, "I described the birthmark under your breast, size and location. They believed."

Maggie, incensed, rose from the bed and started to punch Tom's shoulder. "You're making it up, all of it. The birthmark-you saw it tonight by accident. We didn't do anything else."

Tom anticipated her lack of composure, pinning her wrists and forcing her back onto the bed, compelling her to calm down and not strike him. "Maggie, no one's going to believe your denial."

Maggie tried to headbutt Tom in frustration, but he dodged smoothly.

"I'll tell Mom the truth-that everything you saw tonight was an accident."

"How could it be an accident?" Tom retorted. "I undressed you, was that an accident? I know your bra is light blue, was that an accident? And I accidentally kissed you, and then saw your birthmark, all by accident? Who would believe that?" Maggie's face turned crimson. "But, that's exactly what happened!"

Tom held her down, asking, "Even if it was an accident on my part, tell me, who climbed on top of me at noon and kissed me?"

Maggie was mortified. How could Vivian have made such a private scandal public?

Maggie's cheeks burned crimson, her words tripping over each other in a frantic tumble. "I-I didn't, I didn't climb up to kiss you on the lips, I swear. It was just the corner, the very corner of your mouth, and it was just a brush, really. And it was, you know, an accident." Tom tried to swallow the lump in his throat, seizing the moment to probe further. "What about that picture you sent this morning, huh? With my pajama shirt beside you on the bed, and a strand of hair that looked suspiciously like mine on the pillow? What's the deal with that?"

Maggie's gaze darted away, her fingers fidgeting as she cobbled together an explanation. "That, um, that was all staged. I deliberately put the shirt there, and the hair? That was mine. I yanked out a chunk of my own hair and laid it there to... to fool her."