Chapter 3

Inside the office.

Dylan sat in his leather chair, staring at the door Layla had walked out of. He didn’t snap out of it for a long while. He didn’t even notice Lily calling his name over and over.

Layla had come and gone so quickly, treating him with that cold, businesslike manner. Something felt off.

Suddenly Lily’s face popped into view, annoyed that he was ignoring her.

“Dylan, what are you thinking about?”

He pressed his lips together, then finally muttered, “Nothing.”

Usually, whenever Lily said she felt unwell, Layla would panic more than he did. Yet today Layla didn’t seem to care at all. She didn’t even look at him properly.

It was the first time she had ever treated him that way.

But Dylan didn’t dwell on it for long. His attention drifted back to Lily soon enough.

…

The villa.

The master bedroom she had shared with Dylan was full of memories. Every item carried some trace of their life together.

Anything that belonged to her, she had the housekeeper pack up.

“Ma’am, should we move your things somewhere else?”

“No. Throw everything away.”

Layla was seated in the living room, sipping tea. The suitcase by her side held the few things that were truly hers. Everything else felt tainted and belonged in the trash.

She had the suitcase carried out to the car. She planned to finish her tea before leaving.

But someone walked in.

“Layla, who told you you could drink tea?

“You’re pregnant now. You shouldn’t touch anything that’s bad for the baby.”

Lily marched forward to snatch the cup from Layla’s hands. Layla held it firmly, and Lily’s sudden jerk only made her stumble.

Lily was about to pull harder, but Layla flicked her wrist and splashed the hot tea right across Lily’s face.

Before Lily could explode, Layla lifted both hands, all innocence. “Sorry, Lily. Slipped. Ever since I got pregnant, I’ve been weak. I can’t hold things well. Maybe I should get rid of the baby after all.”

“No!”

The tea was nothing. The baby was everything.

Lily immediately shut it down, forcing a soothing tone. “Sis, a child is a life. Please don’t joke about that.”

She then ordered the servants to bring out the expensive supplements she’d just bought and invited Layla to have some.

Layla let out a cold, amused breath. “Sure.”

They sat down, and the servants started placing bowl after bowl on the table.

There was creamy chicken soup, a heavy seafood chowder, and a thick beef stew. All rich, greasy, and way too much.

Layla’s stomach turned at the sight.

But Lily looked determined, as if Layla wasn’t allowed to leave until she ate every bit of it.

“Layla, this is good for pregnant women. Eat more.”

Layla pretended to comply. She picked up the bowl, and in the next second, poured the entire chicken soup over Lily.

“Sorry. Slipped.”

Lily jumped to her feet, startled by the heat.

“Layla Spencer, stop pretending! There’s no way someone’s hand slips twice in a row!”

She didn’t finish the sentence before the seafood chowder followed.

Layla corrected her kindly. “Three times.”

Only the bowl of beef stew remained untouched on the table. Lily backed away quickly, wary.

The mix of smells on her soaked clothes was unbearable, and her wet outfit clung to her skin. Her face had gone dark with rage.

But she couldn’t let herself lash out. She gritted her teeth and forced a smile.

“It’s fine, Layla. Pregnant women get emotional. I understand. I only came back to grab something for Dylan. I’ll leave once I have it.”

Watching Lily march upstairs into Dylan’s study, Layla felt that familiar sting rise in her chest again.

All those years together, and after they got married, he never let her into that room. Every time she tried, he would smile and say, “The work piled up in there. It’ll just stress you out. My wife should stay happy forever.”

Yet Lily had been allowed to waltz in and out of his “sacred space” whenever she pleased.

Layla remembered the night she woke up alone and heard movement coming from the study. Half-asleep, she wandered over and pushed the door open, only to be met with Dylan’s furious shout.

“Who told you to come in here? Get out!”

The shock snapped her fully awake.

Later he said he was only worried she’d get headaches from staying up too late, which was why he raised his voice.

But looking back now, she remembered the frantic tapping of his fingers on the keyboard right before he yelled. She remembered the lingering trace of a woman’s voice and his chuckles.

The truth was obvious. Dylan didn’t suddenly turn into a piece of trash. He had been rotten for a long time. She just didn’t see it.

Half an hour later, Lily’s voice floated out again.

“Put all the snacks, coffee, and tea in my car. Layla’s pregnant. She shouldn’t be eating junk.”

She had gone upstairs to “grab something,” but when she came out, she was wearing one of Dylan’s oversized shirts, her hair dripping wet as if she’d just showered.

She met Layla’s steady gaze with a smug, taunting look.

“Layla, you ruined my clothes, so I took a shower and borrowed one of Dylan’s shirts. You don’t mind, right?”

Layla let out a quiet laugh. “You’re already wearing it. What do you expect me to do, tear it off you and send you home naked?”

Lily lifted her chin proudly and started ordering the housekeeper and staff around, telling them what to load into her car. Anyone who didn’t know better would think she was the lady of the house.

And everyone let her get away with it.

Back then she would come over often, pretending she was there to keep Layla company. Layla, foolishly generous, had told her to make herself at home and not be shy.

The sports car roared out of the driveway. Two minutes later, Layla’s phone rang.

Dylan.

“Who told you to throw hot soup on Lily? Her skin is delicate. Do you know she got burned?

“I’m not coming home tonight. Think about what you did and write me a full apology letter by tomorrow.”

He hung up before she could answer, all anger and accusation.

Layla couldn’t help but laugh.

When two people are in love, writing apology letters feels more like a sweet, playful thing.

When the love is gone, doing it just makes you pathetic.

He could come home or not. She no longer cared.

Layla grabbed her things, walked out the door, and left without looking back.