CHAPTER 5

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“What?” Layla’s voice trembled in disbelief. She sat across from her stepmother, Margot, in the quiet private room. Margot didn’t even glance at her, she sipped her tea slowly, like the situation was nothing more than a casual conversation.

Margot’s tone was calm, too calm. “You’ll be getting married.”

Layla blinked, unable to comprehend her words. “Married? To who?”

Margot finally looked up, her eyes cold and sharp. “To a man named Lucian Hilton. He’s the illegitimate son of a powerful family, older, wealthy, and… let’s just say, not the kind of man you refuse.”

Layla’s lips parted in shock. “How can I do that? I have a daughter!”

“It’s your choice to make,” Margot said flatly, setting her teacup down. “You asked for four hundred thousand dollars, didn’t you? Did you really think I’d hand you that amount for free? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Layla’s heart sank. “This condition is too much. Can’t you give me another option?” she asked desperately.

“That’s the only option you have, silly girl.” Margot smirked, the corners of her lips curling with cruel amusement.

Layla shook her head slowly, disbelief clouding her face. “I can’t just marry someone I don’t know. And I have a child to take care of. Please, Mother, reconsider…”

Margot suddenly burst into laughter, loud and mocking. “Oh, don’t act so dramatic. Who do you think you are? Nobody’s asking you to fall in love. Just do it, and the problem will go away.”

Her laughter faded, but the mockery in her eyes deepened. “You’ll get rich once you marry him. You can even take care of your daughter secretly. Then, when you’ve had enough, divorce him. A loose girl like you can’t stay married for long anyway.”

Layla’s body stiffened. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest. Marry a stranger? A man tied to the underground? She wanted to scream, to refuse, but her daughter’s face flashed in her mind. Her little girl lying on the hospital bed, fragile and fading.

Her throat tightened. She lowered her gaze.

Margot stood, ready to leave, but halted when she heard Layla’s voice, quiet yet sharp.

“I’ll do it,” Layla said.

Margot turned slowly, raising a brow. “foutlr hundred thousand dollars, right?”

Layla nodded weakly.

“Good,” Margot murmured, signaling to her secretary. “Collect her account details. Send it through a borrowed account… I don’t want her name appearing anywhere.”

Her secretary nodded obediently.

“Come to the mansion tomorrow morning,” Margot ordered. “We’ll inform your father and finalize everything.” She didn’t wait for Layla’s reply. Her heels clicked against the floor as she left the room, the sound echoing like a verdict.

Layla stood frozen, her hands trembling. Her father… the man who had thrown her out without hearing her side, how was she supposed to face him again?

When she finally received the alert on her phone, her chest tightened with mixed emotions, relief, pain, and shame. She went straight to the hospital and paid for her daughter’s surgery in full. The doctor assured her that the operation would take place soon. Layla’s knees nearly gave out in gratitude.

The nurses and attendants whispered among themselves, how could the woman who couldn’t afford two thousand dollars suddenly pay four hundred? Layla heard the whispers but ignored them. None of it mattered now. Her child would live.

***********

The Next Morning

The city was still half-asleep. The early light spilled softly across the streets, painting them gold. The air smelled fresh,

dew on grass, faint perfume from blooming flowers.

Layla stood by the roadside, waiting for a cab. Her face looked pale and tired, but there was a quiet resolve in her eyes. When a taxi finally stopped, she climbed in and gave the driver the address of the mansion she once called home.

Her hands trembled in her lap as the car rolled through familiar streets. Five years, and yet the sight of those gates still made her chest ache.

When she stepped into the mansion, her heart clenched. The scent, the silence, even the gleam of the marble floor, nothing had changed.

A maid led her into the living room. She didn’t sit. Her legs felt heavy, but her mind was blank, too numb for thought.

After a few minutes, footsteps echoed. Layla lifted her head, and her breath hitched.

“Father,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Her father’s expression was unreadable. He didn’t even meet her gaze. “You’re back,” he said, his tone distant. “Don’t cause trouble for the family.”

Layla’s throat burned as she nodded silently. Five years apart, and that was all he had to say.

Margot cleared her throat to break the tension. “Since you’re rejoining this family, behave yourself. And remember—” her gaze sharpened, “—you owe me.”

Layla didn’t respond. She didn’t have the strength to.

Her father left the room without a glance back, leaving the air thick with unspoken pain.

Margot smiled faintly, satisfied. “You’ll meet your husband-to-be tonight. Be ready.”

Layla’s stomach turned. “So soon?”

“Yes,” Margot replied, as if she were discussing a business deal. “Your stepsister… disappeared. Ran away last night. The engagement must continue, and you’ll take her place. It’s the least you can do for the family that once sheltered you.”

Layla froze. Her stepsister had escaped, and now she was the replacement bride.

A shiver ran through her body. Marry a man involved in the underground world… a dangerous man?

But then she remembered her daughter lying in that hospital bed.

She closed her eyes and nodded. “I understand.”

*********

The day passed in quiet turmoil. Margot dragged Layla to several boutiques, selecting gowns and jewelry as though she were dressing a doll. “You’ll look perfect,” she said coldly.

By evening, the mansion glowed under chandeliers and expensive lights. Cars began to arrive, one after another. Layla stood by the door in a black dinner gown that hugged her frame. It was elegant, simple, yet stunning, a reflection of the woman she had once been.

“The Hilton family is here,” Margot whispered, straightening her hair. “Behave yourself. Smile when you must. Remember you are the one he chose. He mustn't find out and unless you want us all dead. So live as your sister from now on.”

Layla swallowed hard.

Her father greeted the guests warmly. “Welcome, Mr. Hilton,” he said, shaking the hand of an older man with silver hair and a powerful presence.

Layla bowed politely, forcing a faint smile. Her eyes darted nervously, searching for the man she was supposed to marry.

The old man chuckled. “My son should be here any moment,” he said. “He’s a busy man.”

Minutes later, footsteps echoed across the hall. The air shifted.

Layla turned her head…. and froze.

A tall figure walked in, his presence commanding every eye in the room. Sharp suit. Calm eyes. A dangerous aura wrapped in quiet elegance.

Layla’s heart stopped.

The man from the bar.

He walked toward them, his steps unhurried but filled with power. When he reached the table, he bowed slightly to the elder Hilton.

“Apologies for being late,” he said, his voice calm, rich, and deep.

Layla’s world tilted.

Lucian Hilton.

The same man who had saved her, now the man she was meant to marry. Won't her identity be exposed before the wedding day?