Chapter 167
In that moment, time seemed to freeze.
Tears that Layla had just dried from her cheeks welled up once more, threatening to spill over. She yearned to rush into his arms, to let her tears flow freely. For a fleeting moment, she almost succumbed to the urge.
But she held herself back.
With a deep, shuddering breath, she averted her gaze and began to walk away. As she passed him, his hand shot out, seizing her wrist with a grip that felt as though it was clutching her heart, sending tremors through her entire being.
"Why are you here?" The eerily calm tone of Samuel's voice sent a chill down her spine.
He looked thinner, gaunt, his deep-set eyes accentuating his dangerously sharp features. His gaze was more piercing than a bayonet.
"I... I took a wrong turn..." she stammered.
"Took a wrong turn? Don't tell me you're here to stroll down memory lane. Can't let go, can you?" Samuel sneered, pulling her close. "Does a woman who betrayed me have the right to reminisce about the past?"
If she truly loved him, she wouldn't have gotten drunk with another man. And even if she had, she wouldn't have done what she did.
Revulsion and hatred for her welled up within Samuel.
For the first time in his life, he had been betrayed by a woman who had poured out her heart to him-a brutal trampling of his feelings.
He could not stand betrayal; he should've been ruthless, should've cut ties with her at once and never looked back.
But what did he do instead? He drowned himself in work during the day to exhaustion, to keep her off his mind, and at night, he turned to liquor, all in a futile attempt to forget her.
Yet, alcohol only made her image clearer in his mind, tormenting him relentlessly.
The clearer she became in his mind, the more he hated her.
"Or perhaps you're putting on a sorrowful act, playing the victim to elicit my forgiveness?" A cold, mocking smile played on Samuel's lips. "Layla, do you think I would go soft on someone like you?"
Layla's captured wrist ached, but her heart ached more as a tear rolled down her cheek.
Samuel's eyes stung at the sight of it, and he frowned deeply. "Save your tears; they won't work on me anymore." He gritted his teeth. "Your tears only make you more of a hypocrite!"
"I'm sorry..." Layla's voice was choked and disjointed.
"Sorry? You certainly should be sorry! But what you did is unforgivable, not something a simple apology can erase."
Samuel pulled her roughly towards him, with such force that Layla had to tiptoe; his bloodshot eyes looked ferocious.
"You don't belong here! Don't let me see you again, get out of my sight!"
With that, Samuel released her.
Layla stumbled back a couple of steps and fell to the ground, scraping her hand.
Instinctively, Samuel reached out to help her, but he stopped himself, his outstretched fingers clenched into a tight fist.
She wasn't worth it!
Clutching her face, Layla ran off, tears streaming down her cheeks, her heart silently shattering with countless whispers of "I'm sorry."
...
The following morning.
In the first-class cabin of the flight to Chicago, there was only one passenger. Dressed in a black shirt and sporting dark sunglasses that covered most of his face, his eyes were unreadable. But the tight line of his pressed lips was a clear indicator of his displeasure.
Even with just a glimpse of his chiseled jawline, his allure was undeniable. He had the air of a Justin-a megawatt celebrity-compelling, yet keeping others at bay.
The flight attendant, heart racing and cheeks flushed with a nervous blush, approached him. "Mr. Holland, the plane is about to take off, please fasten your seatbelt."
To the flight attendant, this god-like man made her breath hitch just by being near. He was like a vortex, drawing her in, enrapturing her with his handsomeness and aristocratic charm.
"Booking the entire first-class cabin, Mr. Holland? Do you always travel with such grandeur?" a pleasant, teasing voice broke the tension.
Nora Eilish, clad in a white designer suit, strode in with the confidence of an heiress. Her tall frame and the elegance unique to a woman of her standing suddenly diminished the flight attendant's charm.
"Miss Eilish," the attendant greeted with due respect, while hiding a twinge of jealousy and curiosity within.
Hadn't Mr. Holland publicly denied any engagement to her? So...what was their relationship?
Despite the attendant's envy, she knew she was no match for Nora Eilish and discreetly excused herself.
"I don't do business class; hope you don't mind sharing a spot?" Nora's casual tone and her light makeup couldn't hide her stunning beauty, unsurpassed by any. Within moments, she had settled into the seat next to Samuel.
Samuel, lips sealed since the beginning, gave no response as if she didn't exist.
Was he upset? The worse his mood got, the more Nora Eilish relished it. It proved that his ties with Layla were severed. And women, sometimes, do harbor a desire for revenge.
Nora couldn't help but feel a sense of schadenfreude. He'd passed over a top socialite like her for a gold-digging assistant - nothing more than a mismatch in every sense. Now, he was reaping the consequences.
Even the gods need a taste of their own medicine now and then, to realize what kind of woman they should be choosing as a wife.
And she, Nora Eilish, was inevitably the one.
Her gaze locked onto Samuel's rigid profile with an unhidden glint of determination.
She was Miss Eilish of the Eilish family, a talented surgeon, the crème de la crème of society, and an elite school graduate. There had never been something-or someone-she wanted that eluded her grasp, especially when it came to a life partner who had to be at the pinnacle of men.
The upcoming grand opening of a seven-star hotel-a joint investment by the Holland Group and the Eilish Group-was her golden opportunity to reclaim his heart. Their itineraries intertwined for the following days, and she was poised to seize the moment.
...
Layla tossed and turned throughout the night, tormented by nightmares, until a particularly harrowing dream jerked her awake. Her phone was vibrating incessantly.
Groggy and disoriented, she didn't even look at the caller ID before she answered. "Hello?"
"Your dad's gone missing, and you're still sleeping? Ignoring my calls on purpose, are you? Ungrateful brat," Sophia berated from the other end.
"What do you mean 'missing'? What happened?" Layla's head was spinning, her thoughts thick and sluggish.
"If you weren't so disrespectful, not sending money to your dad, would he have ever gone to G City to collect debts? We're so broke at home, do you even know?" Sophia accused.
"Collecting debts?" Layla echoed, confused.
"He mentioned an old buddy owes him money for years, and hasn't paid back. He went to confront him, and it's been three days with no word," Sophia explained, her voice laced with worry.
"Then call the police!" Layla urged.
"The cops say he disappeared in G City. That's out of their jurisdiction. Even if we report it, we need to reach out to the G City police. I'm too old for this, and Sarah is still in school. You need to go take care of this," Sophia said before abruptly hanging up.
Sophia was notorious for her lies and trickery; Layla took her words with a grain of salt. She quickly called Owen to get his take on the situation.
"How could Dad just vanish like that? I've been working all week and am out of the loop, but I did hear he was heading to G City-nothing about debt collection, though. Mom wouldn't scare you using this kind of lie, I'm sure," Owen reassured her.
"I better go myself," Layla said, already scrambling to her feet.
"It's not safe for you to go all that way alone. I'll come with you. Give me the address, and I'll meet you there."
Considering her pregnancy, Layla agreed. "Okay."