She couldn't remember unlocking her door or riding the elevator. Forget taking off her jacket and scarf. Adrian's question stuck with her: Who are you, really?She couldn't shake the look in his eyes, filled with pain and uncertainty. Sitting on the couch, she felt like she had to pull away from what they'd just been through. The truth, long suppressed, was now relentlessly closing in, leaving her paralyzed and without a viable defense.
She'd worked so hard to create a life separate from her father's name.Away from the deals he'd made in back rooms and the headlines that had made her seventeen-year-old self a scandalized ghost in prep school hallways.
And now Adrian knew.
Or maybe she just had a feeling about it.
Her phone buzzed on the coffee table.Not Adrian.
Eden.
Eden: "L. You okay? You haven't responded all day."
Eden: "Something's wrong. I can feel it."
Layla stared at the messages, fingers poised to type but nothing she could say would make sense.
She had no idea what Adrian was thinking. It seems like everything was slipping away from her.
So, she throw her phone onto the couch and got up, starting to walks around.
She really didn't want to cry. Crying would make it real.
But then a knock blast the silence.
She froze.
Another knock—harder this time. Urgent.Her heart raced.
She stepped quietly into the room, her bare feet feeling the cool hardwood floor, and sees through the door.. It was Adrian. She paused for a second before she unlocked the door. He came in before she could speak, looking tense and frustrated. "I'm sorry," he said fast. "I shouldn't have just walked out." Layla frowned. You made me feel like I didn't belong, she said. I wasn't sure how to feel, he answered.
"I tried to explain."
"I know," he said, voice low. "I just… seeing that message—seeing your name next to his—it threw me."
Layla stepped back, putting space between them. "So what now? You came to… what? Confront me again?"
"No," he said. "I need you to be straight with me. All of it. No lies. No fake stuff."
She watched him for a bit, feeling a lightness in her chest. Finally, she said quietly, "Okay." Then she walked over to the window, taking in the city stretching out in front of her, filled with gold and gray.
"My father is Thomas Hart. Yes. The man your family helped destroy. He wasn't perfect. I know that. He made mistakes—stupid, selfish mistakes. But he didn't deserve what they did to him. What your father did."
Adrian flinched. "You think Elliot set him up?"
"I don't think. I know."
Silence.
Then, Adrian said, "Prove it."
Layla turned sharply. "Excuse me?"
"If you really believe my father framed yours—show me. I'll help you. But I need something real."She looked at him, breathless.
He was giving her a chance.
To blow everything wide open.
To finally seek justice.
But it came with a cost.
Because if she said yes, there would be no going back.
No more secrets. No more safety.
Just the fire.
Layla stepped closer. "Okay. I'll show you everything. But when I do—when you see what your family really is—you don't get to pretend you didn't know."
"I won't."
Their eyes locked.
And somewhere deep in that moment, something broke open between them.
Not trust.
Not yet.
But something like the beginning of war.