Layla's pov
Today marks my second anniversary with Mark. He's been my boyfriend since I met him at a café two years back. It was love instantly, and I have no regrets about having him in my life. I invited him to come to the house to celebrate, but he forgot it's our anniversary and that I want to surprise him.
My car stops in front of my parents’ mansion, a place I previously considered home but that now felt like a foreign land. The sight of the grand house makes me feel uneasy, Iike I don't belong here anymore.The expansive windows shimmered in the afternoon light, creating lengthy shadows on the beautifully kept lawn. This place used to feel like home, but now it feels cold, distant–just like my family. I came back sooner than anticipated, aiming to catch Mark off guard. I considered that we might share the afternoon, enjoying laughter as we once did.
I step out of the car, holding my gift for Mark and head towards the door. The front door was slightly open, which was unusual. Pushing it open, I step inside. The sound of my heels echoing on the marble floors, sharp and loud, sending chills down my spine. I ascend the stairs, holding the tiny box tightly in my hand, but the discomfort in my stomach intensifies with every step.
Then I could hear it–a laugh. Mark's laugh, floating down the hallway, light and familiar. I'd recognise it anywhere.
He's talking to someone. His voice sounds relaxed, even happy. My heart beats faster as I walk towards the sound, my steps slower now, my chest tightening.
I opened the door to my room. And there they stood—Mark and Celeste, entwined in one another's embrace. My stepsister, the family's favorite, and my boyfriend, the guy who professed his love for me just last night.
Celeste, always the performer, pulled away from him, gasping like she's the one who's been wronged. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.” she says, her voice calm, almost bored.
Find out this way? Not a hint of remorse in her tone. Simply shocked that her secret had been revealed.
Mark let out a deep sigh, brushing a hand through his hair. Looking at me like I'm the one causing a scene "Listen, Layla” he says, his voice so calm it makes my blood boil. “I was going to tell you. Celeste and I... it just happened.”
It just happened? My chest feels tight, and my hands tremble as I step back. The betrayal cuts deep, the pain almost too much to bear.
"Was everything a lie, then?" I ask, each word taking a part of my soul. "Everything you said to me? Every promise?"
Mark had the audacity to appear emotionless. “Let’s be honest, Layla. Things haven't been good between us for a while. You've simply been too absorbed in your own problems that you didn't even notice.”
My problems? My anger surged as the pieces began to fit together. He was accusing me, making the situation even worse.
And Celeste... she just stood there, watching me with that same self-satisfied smile she always had. She had won. She had seized it all—my family's love, their attention, and now, the man I thought I would spend my life with.
Unable to endure it any longer, I rushed downstairs. Each step felt more heavy, the air denser. I needed fresh air. I had to break free from the distorted reality that my life had turned into.
But the nightmare had just begun.
At the foot of the stairs, my parents stood waiting, their faces emotionless and calm. My mother had her arms folded and wore a serious expression. My father, glancing aside, avoiding my gaze, his jaw tense.
“Mom, Dad,” I started, fighting to maintain my calm. "Did you know?"
My mom looked away, unwilling to meet my stare. Dad cleared his throat. “Layla, you need to understand.”
Understand?. His words hit me like a blow to the body. My parents were supporting her. Protecting both of them, as if my suffering was insignificant.
"Oh, I understand." "So, I’m the problem in this family, is that right?" My voice rised, anger and heartbreak mixing in every word.
My father's stare grew intense. "Layla, stop being so dramatic." "We expected more maturity from you."
Maturity?. I bit my lip to prevent it from quivering. I wasn’t the one being dramatic. I was the one being betrayed.
I felt the urge to run, to leave this house as fast as I could. But my mother's voice stopped me.
“There's something else you should know”
I turned slowly, preparing myself.
“Celeste will be inheriting Monroe Enterprises.” “It’s what’s best for the family,” she said, her voice cold and detached, as if she's reading off a grocery list. "You... you've always been too gentle for the corporate world, Layla,"
The room rotated, and I fought to maintain my balance. Monroe Enterprises belonged to me. I spent years getting ready, giving up so much, delaying my dreams to grasp every detail, each strategy, and every connection. Everything had been for this—my future, my heritage. And now, in just one sentence, they were giving it to her. Just like that.
“And regarding you,” my father said, cutting through my thoughts, “we’ve set up your marriage to Damian Blackwood. “Do you remember him?”
My thoughts faded away. Damian Blackwood—the controversial offspring of an ex-billionaire, whose family's dynasty had fallen apart due to accusations of fraud and dishonesty. He was everything I despised—arrogant, ruthless and dangerous.
"That's meant to be Celeste's duty," I said, my voice rising. “She is the one who's supposed to marry for the family.” “Not I.”
My mother let out a sigh, a look of contempt crossing her features. "You don't have a choice , Layla. Celeste is the future of this family now. “You'll have to do this for her—and for us."
"Is it for her?" My laughter felt empty. "You're throwing my life away for her?" "You want me to marry a total sranger I don't even love, just to make her life easier?"
My father's stare became intense. "It's not about love, Layla." It's about responsibility. You will be taken care of. "Plus, you require the funds for your grandmother, right?"
The reference to my grandmother broke whatever remained of my determination. She was the only person who had ever shown me unconditional care. The only person who had cared for me without expecting anything in return. She was unwell, and the medical expenses were pilling more quickly than I could handle. Without assistance, I wouldn’t be able to afford her treatment
I felt the walls closing in on me. This isn't a choice, it's a trap.
This was my decision: give up my happiness, my future, or witness the only person who ever mattered to me in pain.
The voice of my father was steady, unyielding. "Consider this an opportunity, Layla."A chance to prove your worth to this family. Show us that you can make the right choices.”
The right choice. Like I had a say in the situation.
“Alright,” I murmured, my voice barely heard. The words felt poisonous on my tongue. "I will do it." “I will marry Damian Blackwood.”
Layla’s POVI positioned myself before the mirror, gazing at my reflection. The white wedding dress hugged my figure like a second skin, its beautiful designs mocking the emptiness I felt within. My hair was styled up, and my makeup was flawless. I looked like a magazine bride, but I didn’t feel that way."You look amazing," my mother remarked as she entered the room. Her tone lacked warmth, and her approval was entirely shallow. "Thanks," I whispered, my throat tight.She handed me a set of diamond earrings, her face impossible to read. "These belonged to your grandmother." "She would have liked you to put them on today.”I nodded and put them on silently. As soon as I entered the church, I spotted Damian by the altar. He appeared flawless—as if he was destined to be there, as if he possessed the entire cosmos. His dark suit fit him perfectly, seemingly made just for him, with every detail sharp and impeccable. He stood tall and calm, his face showing no emotion, as if he felt no u
Layla's pov I gazed at my image in the mirror, fixing the crimson red dress that Damian had picked out for me. The material embraced my figure flawlessly, highlighting my curves with a sweetheart neckline and a slit ascending one side. It was stunning, graceful, and unmistakably daring—entirely beyond my comfort zone. But tonight wasn’t about me; it was about Damian.I took a deep breath and grabbed the matching clutch resting on the dresser. I felt tense, and my hands trembled a bit. As I left my room and went down the majestic staircase, I saw Damian awaiting me at the bottom. He stood upright, his tailored black suit fitting him flawlessly, resembling a second skin. The dark crimson tie he had on complimented my dress, and the faint grin on his face made it hard to look elsewhere. Damian was attractive every day, but this evening, he appeared to be a man who possessed the universe—and likely did. When I hit the final step, his gaze moved over my body, pausing just enough to caus
Layla's pov From the moment I entered Damian’s realm, I sensed I was a shadow—minor, unimportant, and perpetually eclipsed by his might. His penthouse mirrored his character flawlessly. It was frigid, emotionless, and unbelievably magnificent. The walls were embellished with invaluable artwork, the type you typically find in museums, and the perspective from the large windows extended infinitely over the city skyline. It was stunning yet stifling, a perpetual indication of how distanced I had become from the life I previously experienced. The days went by in a haze of stress. I couldn’t dismiss the recollection of the elderly man at the meal, his enigmatic phrases resonating in my thoughts. "Recovering after what Monroe did to you must have been difficult." What had my dad done to Damian? What was it about the name “Monroe” that held such significance and resentment in this world? Damian, naturally, provided no insight. He stayed true to his usual demeanor—aloof, frosty, and enigma
Layla's pov Damian wasn't merely intimidating—he was untouchable. Each look, each word, each action appeared designed to highlight my inferiority in his realm. I despised feeling like this, akin to a mouse sneaking around a lion. However, I could no longer exist in ignorance. After walking around my room for what seemed like hours, I finally found the courage to approach him. Damian was typically in his office during the mornings, so that’s the place I went. My heart raced quicker with each step, my palms moist with perspiration. As I approached the door, it was slightly open, and I peeked inside. Damian reclined in his large chair, his demeanor both at ease and authoritative. Sunlight poured through the tall windows, creating a warm radiance on the dark wood and leather furnishings. He was examining a pile of documents, his forehead wrinkled in focus. For a moment, I thought if going back . He still hadn’t seen me, and I could return to the safety of my room. However, I refused t
Celeste's pov The gentle murmur of chatter fills my ears as I make my way through the crowd. My steps are light and effortless, and my smile flows across my face as if it was painted on. I can feel the eyes on me, and I take pleasure in it—the way in which the room changes and adjusts when I enter. All eyes turn, just like they always do.I boom in moments like this. The family reunion, the joy, the sound of glasses—it’s all for me. I’ve dedicated myself to earning this attention, their admiration, and I won’t allow anyone to take it away from me. Tonight, I am the spotlight.Everybody loves me."Celeste, darling," Aunt Victoria calls out, her voice dripping with the sweetness that only people who believe they can get something from you possess. "You look absolutely radiant tonight.”Certainly, I do. I always do.“Thanks,” I responded with a smile, my tone cheerful and breezy. "You look stunning too, Aunt V. Is that the latest from Milan?" It's easy to say what they want to hear. A s
Layla's pov I wake up to a burning heat spreading over my body. My head is pounding like a drum, my throat hurts, and the blanket on me feels unbearably heavy. I try to rise, but my limbs feel heavy, and a surge of nausea overwhelms me.There is a problem.I closed my eyes firmly, attempting to clear the fog in my thoughts. The final memory I have is the family gathering from last night.The whole thing had been a show—my parents, Celeste, and the rest of them acting as if we were a perfect family. They had smiled and laughed, making sure the outside world only saw what they wanted them to see. But beneath the polished exterior, I knew the truth. They barely acknowledged me.Celeste had been at the center of it all, wallowing in their admiration. I'm glad I stood my ground; I cannot allow them to dominate me any longer, especially now that I'm away from that house. I needed to return early; I was exhausted from feigning that I wasn’t suffocating in that home.And now, here I am—weak,
Layla's pov The message lingers in my mind long after Damian leaves the room."You don’t belong with him."The words are simple, but they feel like a warning. Or a threat.I should ignore it. I should convince myself it’s just some random prank or a mistake. But I can’t.Not when my gut tells me otherwise.I stare at my phone, my fingers tightening around it. I check the sender again—an unknown number. No name. No clue who it could be.For a moment, I consider calling back, but my thumb hovers over the screen, hesitating. Something about this feels… off. Like whoever sent this doesn’t want a conversation. They just want me to know.But why?A tap on the door startles me. My heart races in my chest, yet I compel myself to remain composed.The door opens a bit with a creak. A servant glances inside. “Mrs. Blackwood, would you like me to bring your breakfast?”I breathe out, becoming aware that I had been suspending my breath. “No, thanks.”The maid nods and disappears, leaving me alone
Layla's pov The message stays on my screen, burning into my mind.“You’re running out of time, Layla.”I stare at it, my heart pounding.Time for what?Who is sending these messages? And why do they sound like a threat?I swallow hard, my fingers shaking as I type a response.Who are you? What do you want?I hit send. Seconds pass. Then minutes.No reply.A heavy weight settles in my chest.I need to do something. I can't just stay here, waiting for the next message, expecting something even worse.I come down from the bed and take my robe, securing it snugly around me. My palms feel damp, my breath is irregular, but I compel myself to remain composed.I exit the bedroom, proceeding carefully along the softly lit corridor. The estate is silent, with the sole noise being the subtle ticking of a grandfather clock located somewhere below.I'm not certain about what I seek, yet I require answers.I feel like I am being watched.Someone wants me to be afraid.And I need to find out why.
Layla's pov The echo of the gunshot fills my ears, intertwining with my heartbeat.Damian grips my wrist tightly, his body shielding mine as we crouch behind a stone bench in the garden."Stay down," he snarls, his voice like a knife.I am unable to breathe. My mind races. Who fired the shot? Where did it come from?Damian’s men move fast, fanning out, weapons raised. Someone shouts an order. Another voice curses.Then—silence.Long. Heavy. Drenched in tension.Finally, a guard approaches Damian, his face grim.“The shooter’s gone.”Damian’s fingers tighten around me before he lets go. Slowly, he stands, helping me up.I force my shaking legs to move, my eyes darting around. The shadows stretch long across the garden, shifting under the swaying lanterns.Damian turns to his men. “Find him. Now.”They scatter immediately, disappearing into the streets of the
Layla's pov The rose sits on my windowsill like a silent threat.A message. A warning. A promise.I hold my phone tightly, my fingers frigid as I go over the message again.“I'll see you shortly.”My abdomen churns. My heart beats so fiercely it aches.I compel myself to shift, to take action, to do something.I take the rose with trembling hands and rush out of my room, my breathing irregular. The hallway is eerily quiet, with the soft glow of the chandeliers making the shadows stretch longer.Damian's room is situated at the corridor's end. My bare feet move quietly on the ground as I open the door without any knocking.He’s awake. Sitting at the edge of his bed.His head snaps up, eyes locking onto mine instantly.“Layla?” His voice is rough, low, but there’s an edge to it. Like he was already on high alert.I toss the rose onto the bed between us.His gaze d
Layla's pov The message stays on my screen, burning into my mind.“You’re running out of time, Layla.”I stare at it, my heart pounding.Time for what?Who is sending these messages? And why do they sound like a threat?I swallow hard, my fingers shaking as I type a response.Who are you? What do you want?I hit send. Seconds pass. Then minutes.No reply.A heavy weight settles in my chest.I need to do something. I can't just stay here, waiting for the next message, expecting something even worse.I come down from the bed and take my robe, securing it snugly around me. My palms feel damp, my breath is irregular, but I compel myself to remain composed.I exit the bedroom, proceeding carefully along the softly lit corridor. The estate is silent, with the sole noise being the subtle ticking of a grandfather clock located somewhere below.I'm not certain about what I seek, yet I require answers.I feel like I am being watched.Someone wants me to be afraid.And I need to find out why.
Layla's pov The message lingers in my mind long after Damian leaves the room."You don’t belong with him."The words are simple, but they feel like a warning. Or a threat.I should ignore it. I should convince myself it’s just some random prank or a mistake. But I can’t.Not when my gut tells me otherwise.I stare at my phone, my fingers tightening around it. I check the sender again—an unknown number. No name. No clue who it could be.For a moment, I consider calling back, but my thumb hovers over the screen, hesitating. Something about this feels… off. Like whoever sent this doesn’t want a conversation. They just want me to know.But why?A tap on the door startles me. My heart races in my chest, yet I compel myself to remain composed.The door opens a bit with a creak. A servant glances inside. “Mrs. Blackwood, would you like me to bring your breakfast?”I breathe out, becoming aware that I had been suspending my breath. “No, thanks.”The maid nods and disappears, leaving me alone
Layla's pov I wake up to a burning heat spreading over my body. My head is pounding like a drum, my throat hurts, and the blanket on me feels unbearably heavy. I try to rise, but my limbs feel heavy, and a surge of nausea overwhelms me.There is a problem.I closed my eyes firmly, attempting to clear the fog in my thoughts. The final memory I have is the family gathering from last night.The whole thing had been a show—my parents, Celeste, and the rest of them acting as if we were a perfect family. They had smiled and laughed, making sure the outside world only saw what they wanted them to see. But beneath the polished exterior, I knew the truth. They barely acknowledged me.Celeste had been at the center of it all, wallowing in their admiration. I'm glad I stood my ground; I cannot allow them to dominate me any longer, especially now that I'm away from that house. I needed to return early; I was exhausted from feigning that I wasn’t suffocating in that home.And now, here I am—weak,
Celeste's pov The gentle murmur of chatter fills my ears as I make my way through the crowd. My steps are light and effortless, and my smile flows across my face as if it was painted on. I can feel the eyes on me, and I take pleasure in it—the way in which the room changes and adjusts when I enter. All eyes turn, just like they always do.I boom in moments like this. The family reunion, the joy, the sound of glasses—it’s all for me. I’ve dedicated myself to earning this attention, their admiration, and I won’t allow anyone to take it away from me. Tonight, I am the spotlight.Everybody loves me."Celeste, darling," Aunt Victoria calls out, her voice dripping with the sweetness that only people who believe they can get something from you possess. "You look absolutely radiant tonight.”Certainly, I do. I always do.“Thanks,” I responded with a smile, my tone cheerful and breezy. "You look stunning too, Aunt V. Is that the latest from Milan?" It's easy to say what they want to hear. A s
Layla's pov Damian wasn't merely intimidating—he was untouchable. Each look, each word, each action appeared designed to highlight my inferiority in his realm. I despised feeling like this, akin to a mouse sneaking around a lion. However, I could no longer exist in ignorance. After walking around my room for what seemed like hours, I finally found the courage to approach him. Damian was typically in his office during the mornings, so that’s the place I went. My heart raced quicker with each step, my palms moist with perspiration. As I approached the door, it was slightly open, and I peeked inside. Damian reclined in his large chair, his demeanor both at ease and authoritative. Sunlight poured through the tall windows, creating a warm radiance on the dark wood and leather furnishings. He was examining a pile of documents, his forehead wrinkled in focus. For a moment, I thought if going back . He still hadn’t seen me, and I could return to the safety of my room. However, I refused t
Layla's pov From the moment I entered Damian’s realm, I sensed I was a shadow—minor, unimportant, and perpetually eclipsed by his might. His penthouse mirrored his character flawlessly. It was frigid, emotionless, and unbelievably magnificent. The walls were embellished with invaluable artwork, the type you typically find in museums, and the perspective from the large windows extended infinitely over the city skyline. It was stunning yet stifling, a perpetual indication of how distanced I had become from the life I previously experienced. The days went by in a haze of stress. I couldn’t dismiss the recollection of the elderly man at the meal, his enigmatic phrases resonating in my thoughts. "Recovering after what Monroe did to you must have been difficult." What had my dad done to Damian? What was it about the name “Monroe” that held such significance and resentment in this world? Damian, naturally, provided no insight. He stayed true to his usual demeanor—aloof, frosty, and enigma
Layla's pov I gazed at my image in the mirror, fixing the crimson red dress that Damian had picked out for me. The material embraced my figure flawlessly, highlighting my curves with a sweetheart neckline and a slit ascending one side. It was stunning, graceful, and unmistakably daring—entirely beyond my comfort zone. But tonight wasn’t about me; it was about Damian.I took a deep breath and grabbed the matching clutch resting on the dresser. I felt tense, and my hands trembled a bit. As I left my room and went down the majestic staircase, I saw Damian awaiting me at the bottom. He stood upright, his tailored black suit fitting him flawlessly, resembling a second skin. The dark crimson tie he had on complimented my dress, and the faint grin on his face made it hard to look elsewhere. Damian was attractive every day, but this evening, he appeared to be a man who possessed the universe—and likely did. When I hit the final step, his gaze moved over my body, pausing just enough to caus