CHAPTER 10

♥♥♥♥

A week passed in uneasy silence, with Margot’s daily calls and veiled threats reminding Layla that escape wasn’t an option. Each message carried the same warning… “Don’t you dare run.”

Now, as laughter and the clinking of glasses filled the Hilton estate’s grand ballroom, Layla felt her pulse quicken. Warm lighting bathed the room in a soft golden glow, but none of it eased the weight pressing on her chest. This was her engagement night… and every elegant shimmer around her only deepened the ache inside.

Her heels clicked softly against the marble floor as she entered the room. She held her head high, her movements graceful, but her unease was clear in the way she kept tugging lightly at her bracelet...a nervous habit she couldn’t shake.

The moment she spotted him, her steps faltered.

Lucian Hilton. Immaculate in a tailored black suit, his presence commanded the room without effort. His expression was cool, detached… as if none of this mattered to him. When his eyes met hers, a flicker of something unreadable passed between them.

Layla drew a sharp breath, forced a polite smile, and whispered through her teeth, “What is it now?”

Lucian tilted his head slightly, his eyes sharp yet lazy with disinterest. “Relax,” he murmured. “I’ll escort you to your seat.”

“That’s unnecessary,” she replied quickly, still smiling for the onlookers. Her words were laced with quiet irritation, though she hid it well behind the poised expression of a bride-to-be.

“You think I want to?” His voice was low, edged with dry amusement. “Let’s just play along, Miss Carter. For the audience, little girl.”

That tone… unbothered, commanding… sent a ripple of heat up her neck. She hated how his voice carried that calm authority, as if he knew she’d fall in line.

And she did.

Without another word, she let him guide her through the room. His hand rested lightly at the small of her back…a polite gesture, but it burned through the thin fabric of her dress.

At the elders’ table, Layla bowed slightly. “Good evening,” she said softly, her smile warm but practiced.

“Layla, my dear,” said the elderly woman beside Elder Hilton… Her tone was surprisingly gentle. Layla had braced herself for scorn, not kindness. They chatted briefly, and though the words were polite, Layla could feel eyes following her every move.

Afterward, as Lucian left to take a call, Layla tried to mingle on her own. She approached a man in his forties… warm smile, charming energy.

“Good evening, Miss Carter?” he asked, pleasantly surprised.

“Yes, sir.”

“I must say,” he chuckled, “beauty truly runs in the Carter family.”

Layla blushed lightly. “Thank you, sir. That’s kind of you.”

“The groom is my brother,” he added smoothly.

Her brows lifted. Miguel's Hilton? He didn’t resemble Lucian at all… where Lucian was sharp and reserved, Miguel radiated warmth.

“Surprised?” he teased, noticing her hesitation.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted, smiling awkwardly.

Before she could say more, she felt the air shift… colder, heavier.

Lucian had returned.

He stood beside them silently for a second before saying, “I see you’ve met my brother.” His voice carried a warning that only she could sense.

Miguel gave him a sly smirk. “Be gentle with her, little brother. Not everyone is used to your… charm.”

Layla gave a polite laugh, trying to ease the tension, but Lucian’s gaze lingered on her a moment too long… unreadable, steady.

When they finally moved away, he spoke again. “Don’t get too friendly with anyone in my family.”

Layla blinked. “And why should I listen to you?”

He leaned in slightly, voice smooth, barely above a whisper. “Because I said so.”

Her lips parted, but no words came. The faint scent of his cologne wrapped around her… subtle, intoxicating. For a second, she forgot to breathe.

She forced a scoff. “Is that an order then?”

Lucian didn’t answer. He just smiled faintly… not warm, but knowing… before leaning back in his seat, as though she’d amused him.

When Vanessa approached their table moments later, her syrupy voice cut through the charged silence. “Mr. Lucian, are you enjoying the evening?”

Layla rolled her eyes, though she hid it behind her glass.

Lucian didn’t even look up.

Vanessa persisted, filling his glass with wine. He didn’t touch it. Instead, his attention flickered toward Layla, who sat still, quietly observing.

When Vanessa’s heel snapped and she stumbled, Layla’s first instinct was kindness. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.

Vanessa glared daggers at her in reply.

Layla smiled faintly, took Vanessa’s untouched glass, and raised it to her lips… a silent dare.

Lucian’s gaze caught hers over the rim of her glass. For the briefest second, the world seemed to narrow… just his eyes, her smirk, and the pulse at her throat.

Then he looked away.

The rest of the evening blurred into polite conversations and lingering glances.

Lucian spoke little, but every time she moved, she felt his attention… quiet, precise, as though he was studying her. Not with warmth, but curiosity.

And when the toast was finally made, and the laughter faded, Layla realized she had spent the entire evening caught between resentment… and something far more dangerous.

Vanessa left the hall with the help of her assistant.

"I can't believe I almost missed my best friend's engagement party," a hoarse voice says, approaching their table. “Good evening, upcoming Mrs. Hilton," the man says, and Layla is puzzled, looking like she doesn't know the man, but he is being friendly with her.

She checked out the man's features; he was almost the same height as Lucian and had the same haircut. "Are they trying to form artificial twins or what?" she thought, staring at the two middle-aged men.

"Good...evening," she says carefully.

"Nice meeting you; this grumpy man is my best friend," he says with a friendly face. 'What? He is Steve Hilfiger?' Layla thought. Everyone knew who his best friend was, but Layla didn't recognize him; she only knew his name.

Lucian shot him a glare for him to be quiet, but it never works on Steve. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well," Layla says.

“It's a week to your wedding; how do you feel?" Steve asks jokingly. Layla got the question as bad news. She was sad that everything was too fast.

“Just," she replied, and smiled faintly.

Lucian glanced at her slightly; he was surprised by her reply, but the expression didn't last.

“Just?" Steve was also amazed by her reply. “This is unusual; you are different," Steve added before looking at Lucian, then shifted his gaze back to Layla.

'Interesting,' he thought, and smiled slightly.

Steve looked around the room; it seemed he was searching for someone, he crossed his legs as he faced Lucian.

“She is not here,” Steve says and smirks.

Lucian nodded. “She must be cooking something big for us.”

“I don't like surprises, though,” Steve says as he squeezes his face cutely with a dangerous smirk. Layla, who was sitting on the same table with them, could not understand what they were saying.

‘Who are they referring to as 'she’?’ She mulled in her head.

Old man Hilton summoned Layla and Lucian to his table, and he called the people's attention, then he made a toast to their engagement and upcoming wedding.

Not too long after, the party ended. The room that was filled with people and laughter became empty, and the silence was so great that a needle could make noise.

*******************

The next day,

Layla woke up as early as possible, had her bath, and went to the hospital without informing anybody; she received a message that her daughter was conscious already.

She got to the hospital, and she bumped into her friend at the entrance, and they both went to her daughter's ward together, and Layla saw her daughter was asleep without a life-supporting machine; she was happy.

Tears rolled down her cheek as she was smiling at the same time. Amara was happy for her friend and glad; they hugged each other happily.

Layla went to the doctor's office, and she had a conversation about her daughter’s condition with him, and she was happy about the result of their conversation.

The two sat beside Zara and waited for her to wake up.

After some time, the little girl woke up. She and Layla had a mother-and-daughter moment, and she was happy.

And Layla introduced her friend to Zara.

“I am your mother's friend; I should have come to see you sooner.”

“Really?” Zara said cutely she was so excited.

“Yes, don't you like me?”

“I like you; I am just surprised. Mommy has never introduced any of her friends to me. You are pretty.”

Her cute face lightened up. “I am glad.”

“Will you be my godmother? I want to be pretty like you,” Zara smiled.

“Huh? I will be so happy to be your godmother, but you are pretty already.”

Layla smiled, looking at the two conversing. Amara and Zara got along and were comfortable with each other, but they left the little girl to rest after some time.

Layla began to worry about telling her daughter that she won't be around when she's recovering. Amara patted her back. “It will pass,” she sighed heavily.