09

LAYLA

02/60

BRANDON ESTATE - LAYLA'S APARTMENT.

THURSDAY.

"Is this some joke? How did an article pop up like that?"

I flipped my hair, standing beside him and having to raise my toe to stare at his phone. The article was pasted. The font is twice the size of the main body. Attention seeking fuckers.

"Billionaire Penélope Cruz is caught in a cheating scandal."

"The question on the entire public's mind can be put to rest. It seems the young billionaire has her eyes set on someone else despite being engaged. We see the heiress speaking and maintaining a compromising position with an unnamed man…"

"This is bull."

I slung his phone, lifting both hands in the air.

"I know. The media are just searching for their smoking gun. They have nothing."

I checked the picture again. It's not too bad. Penelope has her hands slung on someone's shoulder. His face is shielded, but his hands are across his waist. He has a fire tattoo, so it's not Quentin. One can tell. Okay, it's bad.

"Wait..."

I eyed it ag