~LAYLA~
The thing about sheltered princesses was that they had nowhere to go. Or genuine friends to talk to.
All my friends were socialites who probably witnessed my meltdown and formed their opinion.
I could barely remember the drive back to the Watson estate. I'd called my driver to take me home after I left the reception. My mind was blank, and my body was just operating on instinct.
The grand house was eerily silent and the staff needed not to be told that something had gone terribly wrong. They avoided my gaze as I made my way upstairs.
No one questioned why I returned by myself. No one asked why my wedding dress was wrinkled and dirty, dragging on the marble floor.
The moment I stepped inside my room, the weight of everything came crashing down on me. I nervously pulled the veil off my head and looked in the mirror. It felt like a cruel joke.
My mascara was smudged, my lips were shaking, and my eyes looked empty. I dropped onto the bed and curled up into a ball, gripping the silk sheets as if they could keep me from falling apart.
But nothing could.
Not when I had been humiliated in front of hundreds of people… millions if I counted the damage the press would do.
Not when the man I had loved and trusted had been sleeping with my sister to the point she got pregnant for him. And then, standing at the altar, he declared he'd loved her all along, like I had never mattered.
Five years.
Five years of my life I'd devoted to Daniel Hart, and in less than five minutes, he'd completely ruined me.
A sob broke from my lips. I tried to fight it back, but then came another, and another until I broke out in tears, shaking with the force of my grief.
How could they do this to me?
I buried my face in the pillow as I let out all the pain. My silent sobs gradually faded until I was too exhausted to keep my eyes open, and I finally fell asleep.
I woke up disoriented to the sound of voices coming from downstairs. A gentle light streamed through the curtains and I glanced at the clock on my nightstand.
It was evening as I'd slept through the rest of the day.
My body felt achy and worn out. Then, everything that happened yesterday hit me hard, like a punch to the stomach.
The wedding. Daniel. Cassandra.
I shot up, my heart pounding in my chest. The voices around me were growing louder: my dad's deep voice, my mom's, and Cassandra's sweet, familiar voice.
Pulling down the zipper, I undressed out of the miserable wedding gown that reminded me of how quickly my life had gone downhill. I made sure I looked presentable before heading downstairs.
The moment I walked into the grand living room, I could feel the air around me shift. Everyone turned to look at me as if I was a stranger.
Cassandra sat next to Daniel on the couch, lightly placing her hand on his. She looked radiant in her pale pink dress; her dark hair was styled perfectly, as if nothing had happened yesterday.
As if she hadn't destroyed me.
My father stood by the fireplace with his arms crossed, his expression hard to read. My mother sat in her usual spot, looking tense but silent.
And Daniel, he barely even had the decency to look guilty.
I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat. "What's going on?"
Cassandra gave me that naive expression that fooled others, not me. "Oh, Layla. We were just talking about the union between our families."
I stiffened. "What union?"
She looked at Daniel and then back at me, unsure. "After you left, Daniel and I decided to go ahead with the wedding. It was a shame you weren't there, but…," she shrugged, "everything worked out in the end."
I felt completely shocked, like I'd just been slapped in the face. "What?!"
My breath caught as I looked at my parents. "You went along with this?"
My father sighed, rubbing his temple. "Layla, what happened was quite… unfortunate. But Daniel made his choice. And Cassandra," he glanced at her with approval, "was willing to step up and secure our family's future. What really matters is the Watson-Hart union, and we got that."
'Willing to step up' , My father's words rang in my ears. Suddenly, I felt like I was a spare part. Something to be used and then tossed aside. I have given my all to this family and this was how they paid me back?
I turned to my mother, hoping she'd take my side. I needed someone to support me. But she declared. "Daniel was never truly yours, Layla. Don't worry, it will be fine."
Cassandra continued, her voice dripping with false sympathy as she subtly rubbed her tummy. "I'm so sorry, sister. I'm truly sorry. But don't worry, we'd find you another man that would make you happy."
"Wow," I breathed in total disbelief. How had I not seen it all along? My family were truly pieces of shit.
Daniel spoke this time. "I won't apologise for following my heart, Layla."
"Fine, I understand." I said, making up my mind. " And I wish you the best." My gaze fell on my parents. "All of you."
To Cassandra, I said. "Enjoy the scumbag."
"Language, Layla," my father cautioned.
But I couldn't care less about what he thought. Not anymore.
"It's alright, Daddy, she's just speaking from a place of hurt. I understand," Cassandra said as she leaned closer to Daniel, a smug glint in her eyes. "She'd get over it."
Oh, I'd get over it, alright.
Without a word, I turned and headed upstairs, my heart racing over the decision I was about to make.
Pulling out my phone, I booked a hotel room in the city centre and grabbed a few essentials to throw into a small duffel bag.
"Where do you think you're going, young lady?" I heard my father's stern voice question as I walked past the living room.
"I'm leaving for good."
"Don't be dramatic, Sister. I already apologized to you, so why won't you forgive me?" Cassandra said, aggrieved.
"Are you being real right now?" I spat in anger. "You can take your forgiveness to hell."
I turned to leave, but my father's cold voice stopped me.
"Take one more step, Layla, and you forfeit every right to the Watson name. Think carefully before you do this."
I felt my chest constrict at my father's words. He was willing to go as far as disowning me because of my sister. It was then that I knew he never loved me. All along, I'd just been a necessary pawn in his quest for more power, and I knew I wouldn't regret it.
"Very well, father."
I walked out of the Watson estate.
Not a single soul tried to stop me, not even my mother. And that hurt more than anything. Sometimes I wondered if she ever saw me as her daughter at all. I'd lived my life as the perfect child, meeting every demand of the family, and still, it was never enough for them.
I expected to feel heartbreak, maybe even grief, but all that echoed inside me was silence. Cold, consuming silence.
I reached the hotel and the receptionist gave me a key to my room. I dragged myself along, feeling exhausted. It was late already and all I needed was sleep. I needed to close my eyes and pretend, even just for a little while, that none of this had happened.
So I swiped the keycard and pushed the door open, stepping inside.
The first thing I noticed was that this was not the standard room I had booked.
Floor-to-ceiling windows displayed the sparkling city skyline, neatly arranged leather furniture filled the spacious living area, and a well-stocked bar shone under soft lights.
This wasn't just a hotel room; it was a luxurious penthouse suite. I stepped further inside, feeling confused, and that's when I saw him.
He stood by the bar, half-naked, a towel tied low around his waist, showing his V-line, and leaving a complete view of his sculpted chest and toned arms. His muscles flexed subtly as he poured himself a drink, the amber liquid swirling in his glass.
I barely had time to process the sharp angles of his face, the tousled dark hair, the faint scars that only made him more dangerously alluring, before my eyes landed on something else.
A gun, casually resting on the table beside him.
My breath hitched.
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. The man, looking completely unbothered by my surprise, raised an eyebrow and said, "You're not room service."
I blinked rapidly, my fingers tightening around the door handle. "You… why the hell are you in my room?"
He took a slow sip of his drink before correcting me, "My suite."
My stomach dropped.
I looked at the keycard in my hand, feeling my heart beat faster."No, the receptionist gave me this key. This is supposed to be my room." I put extra emphasis on "my", as if that would change reality.
The stranger appeared completely calm and relaxed. "Looks like there's been a mix-up."
I was about to respond when he casually set his drink down, right beside the gun.
My heart pounded.
Taking a cautious step back, I swallowed hard. "Who the hell are you?"
He studied me for a long moment, then, with the slowest, most calculated smirk, he finally spoke. "Axel O'Brien."
The name was enough to send shivers down my spine because I knew exactly who he was…
And he was the last man I ever wanted to cross paths with.