Semua Bab The Lies We Call Love : Bab 11 - Bab 19

**Jayla's POV** As I lay in the hospital bed, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The beeping machines and sterile smell made me anxious. I glanced around the room, my eyes landing on Warren pacing back and forth outside the glass window. He looked worried, and that gave me flutters in my heart. I turned to the doctor, who was standing beside my bed. "Doctor, I have a question. Do you know if anyone outside of this hospital room knows that I'm...pregnant?" The doctor's expression turned serious. "No, we haven't informed anyone. We wanted to confirm with you first. Since you're not a direct relative of anyone here, we need your permission to disclose that information." I hesitated for a moment before responding. "Please, let's keep it that way for now. I don't want anyone to know." The doctor nodded understandingly. "Of course, we'll respect your wishes. But I think it's time we let your...friends know that you're awake and stable." Before I could respond, Warren and his

**Warren's POV**I walked into the house, my eyes scanning the room for any sign of Jayla. She was supposed to be resting, but she was nowhere to be found. I tried calling her phone, but it went straight to voicemail."Where is she?" I muttered to myself, starting to feel a sense of unease.I turned to Patricia, who was sitting on the couch, watching TV. "Hey, Pat, have you seen Jayla? She was supposed to be resting."Patricia looked up away from the television and over at me, a concerned expression on her face. "Actually, Sir Warren, she left about an hour ago. She didn't say where she was going, just that she needed to go out."My brow furrowed. "What? That's not like her. Did she say anything to Mom?"Patricia shook her head. "No, nothing. I thought maybe she went for a walk or something."I sighed, feeling a growing sense of frustration. Why would Jayla leave without telling anyone? Didn't she know that people would worry about her?I tried to shake off the feeling, telling mysel

**Jayla’s POV** Mrs. Christopher stood there, hands on her hips, her eyes sparkling with that unshakeable mom energy that made resistance feel pointless. “Well? Don’t just stand there gawking! Kiss her now! You can’t leave here without kissing Jayla goodbye.” Warren froze halfway to the door, his briefcase dangling from one hand, tie perfectly knotted like he was about to conquer the boardroom. He turned slowly, his gaze landing on me where I sat at the dining table, still nursing the last of my coffee. My cheeks were already burning from the breakfast feeding fiasco, and now this? I could feel the heat creeping up my neck. Part of me wanted to laugh it off, wave him away, but Mrs. Christopher’s enthusiasm pinned us both in place. She thought we were the real deal...a whirlwind romance blooming right under her roof. She had no clue it was all for show, a convenient cover to keep Warren’s love life drama still and my messy life from spilling over. “Mom, come on,” Warren protested

**Daniel’s POV** The gala was in full swing, a glittering haze of champagne flutes and forced laughter echoing off the high ceilings. Politicians schmoozed, donors networked, and I played my part like always....shaking hands, dropping soundbites about policy reforms that would "change the game." But something felt off. Jayla. She'd been by my side earlier, her white dress a stark contrast to the sea of black tuxes and jewel-toned gowns, her smile which was always tight but holding. Now, she was gone. I'd scanned the room twice already, my eyes darting from one cluster of guests to the next. No sign of her. "Have you seen Jayla, my wife?" I asked a waiter passing with a tray of hors d'oeuvres, keeping my voice low to avoid drawing attention. He shook his head, barely pausing. "No, sir. Sorry." Frustration bubbled up. Where could she be? The bathroom? A quiet corner to catch her breath? She hadn't seemed right all night... she'd been distant, emotional. That tear on the red ca

**Patricia’s POV** The house was finally quiet. Too quiet, really...like the kind of quiet that makes your skin prickle because you know it won’t last, so I had to act fast before I get caught. I’d spent the last hour tidying up the living room after breakfast: fluffing the throw pillows Mrs. Christopher insisted on having in every corner, wiping down the glass coffee table until it gleamed, vacuuming the Persian rug that probably cost more than my yearly salary. The kitchen was spotless too. I had done the dishes, wiped the counters, the faint scent of lemon cleaner still hanging in the air. I paused in the foyer, listening. No footsteps upstairs. No clatter from the kitchen. No Mrs. Christopher humming old jazz tunes while she arranged flowers. Mr. Warren had left for the office hours ago, looking sharp in that navy suit, briefcase in his hand, his jaw tight and face a little mean after whatever silent storm had passed between him and Jayla the night before. And Jayla… w