Chapter 139 Why Me?
Nora shot Layla a piercing look that sent shivers down her spine. She quickly denied it. "I just don't think it's right to hit someone, that's all."
"Mistresses should be held accountable. I'm here to make sure she faces the consequences today. Let go!" Seraphina tried to shake Layla off, but Layla held on.
"You're all the same, all part of the same filth. You must be a mistress too - only one would defend another!" Seraphina aimed a slap at Layla, who dodged it.
Layla was strong, and Seraphina couldn't land a hit; she ended up at a disadvantage.
Eventually, it was Nora who called security to drag Mrs. Seraphina away.
Olivia, the secretary, crawled to Nora's feet. She clung to her boss’s legs and pleaded tearfully, "I was wrong, Nora, please forgive me. Give me another chance..."
But Nora pushed Olivia away. "Seraphina was right to hit you. No one has sympathy for a mistress. Leave. Keeping someone like you around would be an insult to me."
Then, glancing at Layla, her gaze sharp and mocking, she added, "There is no good ending for mistresses!"
In that instant, Layla saw a glint of coldness in Nora's eye.
A suspicion crossed her mind: Was Nora staging this whole scene to make an example?
But Nora had always left an impression of being dignified and kind - not the type to play mind games. Perhaps it was Layla's own insecurities running wild.
Regardless, Layla's heart grew even more anxious. She had resolved to clear the air with Nora today, but after this incident, she lost the nerve to speak up.
With a heavy heart and no desire to work, she left the office.
"Miss Adkins, Miss Adkins?"
"Hmm?" Layla was slow to react.
"What's wrong? Do you think I was too heartless just now?"
"No, I don't think that," Layla shook her head.
"But that's what you're thinking, right? In hiring people, I value character over ability. I despise those with poor character, and among them, mistresses are the worst. Such people are, frankly, morally corrupt, like maggots. Don't you agree?"
‘I'm not his mistress. I was never with Samuel.’ Layla protested silently in her mind. But her throat felt choked, not a whisper could escape. She remained silent.
"You're not talking? Don't you agree? Do you think it's acceptable for women to lower themselves to being mistresses?"
Layla was in no mood to engage in this conversation. "I need to go."
"Let me drive you."
"No, thanks. My car broke down; I have to call a tow truck." Without giving Nora a chance to respond, Layla quickly walked away.
Nora watched her leave with a sneer before returning to the office.
Her secretary, Olivia, was waiting in a small room.
Olivia had been roughed up; her hair a mess, her face still stinging.
"Sorry you had to go through that." Nora handed her a bank card. "There's half a million dollars there—leave the city."
"Thank you, Nora." Olivia exited through the back door.
Nora looked out the window, catching a glimpse of Layla walking briskly with a black umbrella.
Scared, huh?
Those slaps should've been for her face.
Nora never condoned violence; she used to scoff at news of wronged wives publicly attacking mistresses, believing such acts beneath them, foolish and powerless.
But when faced with the other woman herself, the instinct was to lash out.
It was just a warning for Layla—a clear one. Nora knew Layla wouldn't back down so easily, but she was already planning her next moves.
...
During dinner, Layla was visibly unsettled.
As she cut her steak, the knife suddenly screeched against the ceramic plate.
"What's on your mind?" Samuel took the knife from her and passed her a piece of his perfectly cut steak.
"Nothing, really." Layla shook her head, her face showing signs of fatigue.
"You say it's nothing, but usually, you're quite the talker. Tonight, you've hardly said a word. You’re being eerily quiet." Samuel looked at her with concern in his deep eyes.
He hadn't brought it up, not wanting to add to her stress. Sometimes people needed space to process their feelings, and he was willing to give that to her. But seeing her so out of sorts, he couldn't help but worry.
"Maybe I'm just tired today. Achoo—" Layla sneezed loudly.
In an instant, Samuel's hand was on her forehead. "You've got a fever."
"Do I?" she hadn't even noticed, feeling a bit dizzy and weak, not realizing she was running a fever.
"You really don't know how to take care of yourself," Samuel said as he scooped her up, marching up the stairs briskly and gently placing her onto the bed. Then he lay down beside her, pulling the blanket over them both.
"Stop, you'll catch my cold," Layla mumbled through her covered mouth.
Sam chuckled softly and pried her hand away. " I don't care if I catch your cold; I'm staying right here with you."
He pulled the blanket snugly around them. "Don't worry about it. Just get some rest and let the fever run its course—it'll help you get better."
"Mhm," Layla murmured, snuggling into his chest, comforted by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The tumultuous emotions inside her began to settle.
His heartbeat didn't lie, and she believed every word he said.
He never dated Nora Eilish; it was all just gossip. So she wasn't the other woman.
She couldn't help but bite her lip gently.
Samuel heard the unevenness in her breathing and asked, "Not sleeping? What's on your mind?"
"Just wondering... why me." Layla's muffled voice was soft, childlike in his embrace.
"I'm so average... and you're always surrounded by such beautiful women," she pondered aloud, as if both questioning him and talking to herself.
"Maybe it's because there are way too many beauties."
Layla pouted. She could dislike herself all she wanted, but it wasn't okay for him to.
"Silly girl. Who said you're average? You’re a woman who shines bright, striving for her dreams."
"But Nora is hardworking too, and she's a doctor, a savior, an angel in white."
"I don't like her."
"That's not a good explanation."
"If feelings were that logical, that we could give a reasonable explanation, wouldn't that just reduce them to a transaction?" Samuel queried.
"I admit Nora is exceptional, but that doesn't mean I want to be with her, to embrace her, to be intimate with her. With you, I do."
Layla huffed, "That just means you're thinking with your hormones."
"No, it means I like you. A man touching a woman doesn't always mean he likes her. On the contrary, if he doesn't even want to touch her, he definitely doesn't like her. So far, you're the only woman I want to touch, you’re the only one I want to become one with," he said as he gently nibbled Layla's ear.
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