CHAPTER 4: SAVING HER

♥♥♥♥

Layla froze when she saw the thugs who had been chasing her. They stood right in front of her as she stepped out of the room she’d been hiding in. Her heart pounded painfully. She knew it was over.

One of the thugs reached out to grab her, but a deep baritone voice cut through the tension like a blade.

“If you have a death wish, touch her,” the man said, stepping out of the same room she’d hidden in.

The thugs barely paid him any mind, until he revealed his face. His cold aura was enough to make their bodies stiffen. They staggered backward instantly, letting go of Layla.

“We’d appreciate it if you let us do our job,” one of them muttered.

The man shot him a glare that made the thug lower his eyes immediately. None of them dared to meet his gaze. Layla looked between them, confused and curious. Who was this man? She didn’t recognize him, but his presence demanded respect.

“A step closer to her might cost your life. She’s my guest for tonight,” he said coldly.

He reached out, clamped his hand around Layla’s, and led her out of the bar. The thugs didn’t dare move. His bodyguards were already stationed everywhere, watching silently.

They walked through the back exit in silence. The air between them was thick and awkward, and Layla kept glancing away, afraid of him. She didn’t want him to see her face, not after everything that had happened.

“Do you want to get yourself treated or what?” he asked, his eyes sweeping over her bruised body.

Layla shifted uncomfortably. She wasn’t used to receiving kindness from strangers, especially men like him.

“It’s okay… I’ll be fine. Thank you so much,” she said quickly.

She turned to leave, but his voice stopped her again.

“Don’t I deserve to know your name, Miss?” His voice was calm, but it carried quiet authority.

Layla hesitated. For a moment, she almost spoke her truth, but fear clawed at her throat. She shook her head instead.

“Your name?” he repeated, a cunning smirk playing on his lips.

“It’s… Gina. Gorgegina,” she lied.

He raised a brow. “Last name?”

Layla’s heart skipped, but she hid her expression well. “Hilton. Gorgegina Hilton,” she added, forcing a smile.

The man’s smirk deepened. He already knew she was lying, but he didn’t call her out on it.

Layla immediately stopped a cab. She turned back and bowed slightly. The man nodded once, that faint smirk still lingering on his lips. She climbed into the car and sank into the seat.

The city lights blurred past the window as the cab drove off. Her eyes filled with tears.

She felt miserable.

Once, she had been the eldest young mistress of a proud household. But a single mistake, one night stolen by drugs and regret, had destroyed everything. Now, she was nothing but a broken mother clinging to her daughter’s fading breath.

Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably. She bit her lip, trembling. Her whole world was falling apart, and she could do nothing to stop it.

The cab driver glanced at her through the mirror but said nothing. He quietly turned on soft music and let her be. Layla pressed her forehead to the window, watching the blur of people and cars pass by as the melody filled the silence.

When she reached the hospital, she went straight to her daughter’s ward. Her heart broke at the sight of the little girl lying pale on the hospital bed, struggling for every breath.

The doctor’s words echoed in her head: “If the surgery is delayed any longer, the consequences could be fatal.”

Layla’s legs gave way. She sank to the floor in the hallway, crying helplessly. She didn’t want to go back to her family. That place was forbidden. But what choice did she have?

Even if it meant swallowing her pride, her dignity, she would go back. She would beg if she had to.

After some time, she wiped her tears and went to her daughter’s bedside again, brushing a strand of hair off the little girl’s forehead. Guilt crushed her chest.

“I’m sorry, baby… I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “You deserve a better mother than me.”

By morning, Layla left the hospital. Her legs trembled as she stood before the tall, familiar gates of the mansion she once called home. Memories flooded back, her stepmother’s cold eyes, the humiliation, the night she was thrown out like trash.

Tears slipped down her cheeks again, but she forced herself to breathe and took a shaky step forward.

A car was pulling out of the driveway just as she approached. Layla froze when she saw the person inside, the face she had dreaded most. Without thinking, she ran forward and stood in front of the car.

The driver hit the brakes and stepped out, followed by the passenger. Layla’s heart sank when she saw her stepmother.

“Mother…” Layla’s voice was small, trembling. “I’m back.”

She knew she shouldn’t be here. The air itself felt hostile, like the house remembered her shame. But she had nowhere else to go.

Her stepmother crossed her arms, staring at her in disgust. “To do what?”

“I need your help, Mother,” Layla said, half crying.

Her stepmother’s lips curled. “I see you’re not pregnant anymore. Is the baby dead? Are you here to repent?” she asked coldly.

Layla shook her head, tears spilling. “My daughter is in the hospital. I need money to pay her medical bills.”

“Daughter?” Her stepmother scoffed. “A girl? Just let her die. Do you really want to bring another you into the world?”

Layla fell to her knees immediately. “Please, I beg you, Mother. Please help me this time. I swear, I won’t show up again.”

Her stepmother tilted her head with a mocking smile. “Why should I help you? If you keep showing up, maybe I should just have you locked away somewhere.”

Layla crawled closer, desperate. “Please… I’ll do anything. I’ll do whatever you want. Just lend me the money.”

Her stepmother’s smirk widened. “Anything?” She exchanged a glance with her secretary.

Layla nodded without hesitation. She knew this woman was dangerous, but she didn’t care anymore. Her daughter’s life was all that mattered.

“I’ll do anything, Mother,” Layla said, her voice breaking.

Her stepmother’s expression shifted, first thoughtful, then sly. A glint appeared in her eyes, the kind that always meant trouble.

“Follow me,” she said curtly.

Layla obeyed without question.

She didn’t know where they were going, only that her heart wouldn’t stop pounding.

The car stopped in front of an elegant restaurant. Her stepmother ordered her to get out, and they entered a private dining room.

Layla looked around nervously. “What are we doing here?”

“To have a proper conversation, of course. What else?” Her stepmother scoffed. “Did you think I brought you here to eat?”

Layla forced a weak smile. “I was just… curious.”

Her stepmother leaned back in her seat. “How much is your daughter’s medical bill?”

“Four hundred thousand dollars,” Layla said, her voice trembling.

After a moment of silence, her stepmother nodded. “Alright. I’ll handle it.”

Layla’s eyes widened. “Really? Thank you, Mother! Thank you so much!”

But her relief died the moment she saw the expression in her stepmother’s eyes darken.

“Yes,” she said slowly, “but it comes with a condition.”

Layla’s smile faded. “A… condition?” she asked carefully, fear curling in her stomach.

Her mind raced. What condition? What could she possibly want from me? Don’t tell me she’s going to ask for something impossible...

Her heart thudded painfully as she stared at the woman who’d once called her daughter.