Chapter 135

The weather at the end of the summer was unpredictable.

It was clear when Layla set off after one, but halfway through, a downpour began without warning.

The windshield wipers frantically swept back and forth, and the way forward was obscured by sheets of rain.

She drove at a crawl, cautiously.

Then, without warning, the car stalled and wouldn't start again.

Layla tried the key several times, but the engine remained silent.

Growing up, Layla had learned a thing or two from a mechanic next door, capable of handling most minor issues. She braved the deluge, opened the hood, and was greeted by a billow of smoke.

"Cough, cough, cough..."

"Cough, cough..."

Layla waved her hand in front of her face, choking on the fumes.

Nope, this was beyond her repair skills.

Only three miles left to Nora's company, she figured she could briskly walk it and leave the car be till the rain eased up and she could call for a tow truck.

Battling the downpour, Layla stood drenched to the bone by the roadside, attempting to hail a cab. But each passing taxi was already carrying passengers, not only failing to stop but also splashing her in their haste. Covered in grime and mud, she looked a bedraggled mess.

She couldn't wait like this any longer, she decided, steeling herself for the next attempt.

A white Bentley pulled up abruptly.

Anthony leaned forward slightly.

"I'm sorry, sir. Someone's trying to flag us down," his driver announced with a hint of urgency.

Flag us down?

Anthony glanced outside and saw a drenched figure knocking on the driver's side window. A small frame, completely soaked, looking utterly pitiful.

Her voice was muffled through the glass but it was clear she was desperate.

"Just leave her be," the driver suggested, about to start the Bentley again.

Instead, Anthony pushed open the rear door.

"Sir" The driver seemed anxious. They didn't have a clue who she was. What if she was trouble?

"Thank you." Layla scrambled into the back seat, her clothes streaming water and soaking the upholstery. She apologized profusely, "I'm so sorry. I can pay for a car wash."

"No worries." If he had let her in, he wasn't going to fuss about a wet car.

His voice was crisp and refreshing.

For a fleeting moment, the term "melodious" crossed Layla's mind. It was gentle but not overly so, just perfectly soothing.

Like water from a spring.

She couldn't help but look up in curiosity. The man in front of her had striking features, with dense eyebrows and bright amber eyes behind his glasses, exuding an effortless elegance. His nose was aquiline and his lips had a natural rose tint, all contributing to his ink-painting kind of handsomeness. He would have been an exceptionally dashing figure in a period film! Layla was momentarily spellbound.

Their gazes met and Anthony was also slightly taken aback.

Those distinct black and white eyes reminded him of someone from the recesses of his memory, Angel, with her infant-like innocence and purity that touched the soul on sight, bringing forth an intense sense of familiarity.

Still, Anthony didn't believe in such coincidences.

She just happened to have eyes that resembled Angel's.

As for the rest of her face, it was filthy, reminding him of a little beggar. Despite her disheveled appearance, she retained an undeniable cuteness and purity.

Anthony smiled and handed her a towel.

A snow-white towel.

Layla felt her cheeks warm slightly at the sight. Sitting next to such a flawless man, these reactions seemed normal enough.

Murmuring a low "thank you," Layla wiped her face while stealing another glance or two. Why did his profile seem familiar, and yet, she couldn't place where she'd seen him before?

Had she been seeing too many handsome faces lately that they all started looking familiar? That's just silly.

A random thought flashed through her mind. Could he be the "third love charm" that Alice spoke of? If so, he was of exceptional quality.

Although Layla had been quite lucky in love lately, she never imagined it would reach such extremes. Unless, of course, she had saved the entire galaxy in a past life.

She couldn't help but laugh.

A girl drenched from head to toe would typically be upset, wouldn't she? Yet here she was, sneakily chuckling to herself. What an interesting girl, Anthony thought to himself.

"Just drop me off at the next corner," Layla said, casually wiping her face without a mirror, unaware that smudges still streaked her cheeks and that only her eyes sparkled clean.

"Thank you," she said with gratitude. She had tried to hail several cars, but he was the only one who stopped and let her in; the others just cursed as they passed by.

"How much do I owe you for the car wash?" She offered.

"No charge," he replied.

"Well... thank you, then." Layla thanked him earnestly.

As she was about to get out of the car, Anthony called out to her, holding out an umbrella.

"I've already made a mess of your car; I can't take your umbrella too," Layla said, waving her hand in protest.

"Then tell me your name," he requested.

"Huh?"

"As a trade."

Layla paused for a moment, then smiled brightly, "Layla, my name is Layla."

"That's a beautiful name."

She thought to herself how charming his voice was.

"Now you can take the umbrella," he said.

"Alright then, thank you." Layla opened the umbrella and stepped out of the car.

Anthony watched her walk away, contemplative. Why had he suddenly wanted to know her name? Was it because her eyes felt familiar?

His phone rang, snapping him out of his reverie.

"Mr. Smith, we've found her," the voice on the other end said.

Anthony's heart skipped a beat as his eyes brightened with anticipation.

...

At the ritzy hotel restaurant, Sarah, with her blonde hair, wore an oversized shirt with ripped jeans, exuding a rebellious teen vibe. She chewed her gum loudly with her legs crossed, clearly impatient.

"What's taking them so long?" she muttered to herself, hating to wait.

"Mr. Smith is on his way," she was assured.

"Oh."

Mr. Smith, the name oozed wealth. That's why Sarah had agreed to come here.

She usually slacked off at her lousy school, skipping class to hang out at the internet cafe and game. Today, as she was doing just that, these people came out of nowhere, asking about a bracelet she had. Sarah was scared out of her wits, initially thinking Layla had gotten into trouble, but when they mentioned Mr. Smith was looking for her, she decided to take a risk.

If this Mr. Smith was here to repay a favor, she'd make sure to get her cut. But if it was trouble, she'd throw Layla under the bus.

When Layla was a child, she saved a male bodyguard's life, so asking him for half a million shouldn't be a problem, right? The thought alone sent Sarah into a frenzy of excitement.

At that moment, a young man in a white dress shirt, exuding an aura of elegance, walked in through the front door. The bodyguard bowed respectfully and greeted him, "Mr. Guard."

Wow, he's handsome!

Sarah was so struck by his charm that she stood up abruptly, her mouth agape, and her gum fell to the floor.

Layla was so lucky-abandoned by her mom to an orphanage, yet she managed to save someone as gorgeous and wealthy as this bodyguard.

Fortunately, she had persuaded Layla to share that story when they were young and even secretly borrowed Layla's bracelet to wear.

Sarah fumbled with her hair, regretting the heavy makeup she'd chosen for the day. Given his refined demeanor, he probably wouldn't appreciate her flashy look.

What do I do?