Chapter 338
Layla was already on edge. She cursed underneath. 'You scumbag, and now you're poking the hornet's nest!'
His calling her baby caused her anger to rise several degrees.
Gritting her teeth, she coldly stated, "You've got the wrong person."
"In this world, there's only one baby, and that's my Layla, no mistake." Samuel smiled with a hint of intoxication, creating ripples in her heart like a stone skipping on water.
Suppressing the urge to curse, Layla's voice was low and impatient. "I'm hanging up."
"I miss you. I'm outside your place."
"You should go find someone else."
'Find that mixed-race beauty! After dating her, you now come running back. What do you take me for?' She thought.
"I just want to see you. Layla, I'm drunk. Please let me in."
'Nonsense. Do you treat my house as a hotel?' She thought angrily.
"Find other places. I'm going to bed. Stop bothering me."
She was about to hang up.
"I'm at your doorstep."
"Samuel!" Layla shot up from the bed like a fish, exasperated, "You know I hate it when you push me."
"I'm not trying to push you. I just miss you. Open the door, okay?"
"No. You need to leave."
"Then I'll just have to spend the night at your doorstep tonight."
"Are you threatening me?"
"No, I'm just acting pitiful."
Layla stayed silent for a few seconds, gripping her phone tightly, then went to open the door.
Samuel leaned against the wall, collar open, tie loose. With his tall stature, he exuded a lazy charm, a slight flush on his neck to cheeks, strikingly handsome features, and a smile carrying a seductive allure.
"Hey." He lazily smiled at her, waving his phone.
'He had the nerve to smile!' She cursed inwardly.
Layla wanted to slap his smug face.
"What do you want?"
"You."
"Samuel, please refrain from using honey words with me in the middle of the night."
"It's cold outside. Let me in."
"No way!" Layla pushed him out with both hands against his chest. "I told you this morning. Last night was the last time I'll shelter you."
"Right, we made a bet, didn't we?" Samuel lazily smiled, a hint of indulgence. "Tomorrow, I'll transfer the Holland Group to your name."
"I'm not joking."
"Neither am I. Layla, everything I have is yours; I am yours too." Samuel chuckled softly, his posture lazy. He cradled her face, leaning down to kiss her lips, a faint fragrance lingering between them.
She widened her eyes, pushing him away forcefully. "Don't touch me."
"What's wrong? Angry? Because I came too late?"
"My little princess, what's got you upset?"
"Shall we go inside and talk?
"Huh? Weren't we fine this morning?"
"Who said we were fine? Samuel, we were never fine before. I made it clear before that we're impossible. Harassing me like this late at night is especially annoying. If you keep it up, I'll call the police." Layla raised her phone.
Samuel blinked, squinting. "Are you serious?"
Layla pressed her lips together, her gaze firm.
Samuel closed his eyes and smiled, "Alright, alright. I won't push you, okay? I'll go back first. We'll talk tomorrow. Goodnight."
As he took a step forward, he didn't know whether to kiss her or not. Layla quickly stepped back, looking at him warily.
Samuel only said, "I'm leaving."
As he gave her a deep look, he turned and walked away, entering the elevator.
The elevator doors closed. Layla sighed heavily and then began to get annoyed with herself. She was too agitated, like a volatile bomb.
'What was wrong with me? Why did his being with other women make me so easily agitated?' She pondered.
Layla's answer to this question was clear, and it was because she knew, that she was in a panic.
That night, she tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
When she arrived at work in the morning, Layla was having one of the worst days mentally in a week, with heavy dark circles under her eyes.
"Good morning, Layla."
"Layla is never late in the mornings. So diligent."
"You must be the most outstanding employee this year, Layla!"
Her female colleagues' enthusiasm made Layla feel like she was working in a fraudulent company.
"Layla, your outfit today looks great. Did you buy it online? If so, give me a link, and we can get matching outfits."
"Layla has such great taste. She must have bought it in a brick-and-mortar store."
"Yeah, Layla is so elegant."
"Layla is young and pretty. She has a great figure, and everything looks good on her."
Layla felt exhausted. She really thought that they didn't need to compliment her. She had tried not to respond, but it didn't affect their enthusiasm at all. They were on fire, showering her with compliments.
"Miss Layla, where should I put this?" A delivery guy came in with a bouquet.
"Here, here."
"Wow, Layla, your boyfriend sent you flowers."
"These must be expensive. Were they air-shipped from abroad? Even though there are only nineteen flowers, it must have cost a lot."
"Your boyfriend is so rich. Is he a second-generation affluent?"
"How envious."
Layla signed for the flowers, took them, and glanced at the small card on top, which read 'Sorry.'
'Is Samuel apologizing to me? What's he apologizing for? Betrayal?
Didn't this confirm his betrayal? Why else would he feel guilty?' She pondered.
Layla pursed her lips and put the flowers on the table with a stern face. She crumpled the card and threw it in the trash.
"Look! So many balloons!"
Layla turned around to see hundreds of pink balloons flying out of the window, each one with 'sorry' printed on it.
She was taken aback. Just a moment ago, she was relieved that Samuel hadn't made a big gesture, sending a few hundred roses, but the real show was yet to come.
So many balloons! Not just their company but even passersby were in awe.
"Look across!"
On the huge screen, which was flashing continuously, of the opposite building, it displayed 'Sorry.'
"Wow, which second-generation affluent is apologizing so sincerely?"
"He's burning money, spending tens of thousands to apologize. So sincere! Which girl would stay mad at him?"
"This apology is too romantic. Who can resist it?"
"Rich people's love is true love. Spending money to apologize is a real apology. I want to break up!"
"Why can't I meet a second-generation affluent?"
Everyone was leaning against the window, looking up in amazement.
Layla opened an MMS. The photo showed Samuel's handwritten 'sorry'.
It was impossible for her not to be moved at all, but she felt more awkward at such a time, pursing her lips. 'What's the use of apologizing afterward? Hypocrite.' She thought.
In any case, whether Samuel apologized or not, he was wrong. Samuel's existence was a mistake.
Layla replied, [Enough].