Chapter 147 Escape
At six o'clock in the evening, Samuel returned to the villa.
"Dinner's ready, Mr. Morris," the bodyguard announced, then added with concern, "Miss Adkins skipped lunch, too."
"What's the matter?" Samuel asked, his worry tinged with a hint of rebuke.
Mr. Morris quickly explained, "Miss Adkins came home at noon, and locked herself in her room straight away. I knocked several times, but she said she was too tired to eat."
Before Mr. Morris could say any more, Samuel was already striding upstairs.
"Layla?" he called out, knocking on her door. "Layla?"
After a few knocks with no response, his concern deepened. "You feeling okay?" he called out.
He turned to the bodyguard and instructed, "Go get the keys."
"Right away," the bodyguard replied.
Just as Mr. Morris stepped away, Layla cracked open the door. Half her face showed. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes puffy, her skin so pale it looked almost translucent, and her lips were devoid of color.
Samuel felt his heart clench. "Have you been crying?"
"No, no, just... slept so much my eyes are swollen," she mumbled.
When Samuel attempted to enter, she resisted, bracing against the door. "I want some more sleep."
Now, seeing him only brought a wave of shame that made her want to cry. She felt dirty, unworthy of facing this man who cherished and trusted her.
"What's wrong?"
"Just not hungry. It's common to feel nauseous during pregnancy," she said.
"I'll stay with you," Samuel insisted, pushing his way into the room. She was drowning in an oversized robe that fell to her ankles, revealing just her small feet, her neck flushed red.
"Why's your neck so red?" It looked almost like it was peeling.
Layla shrank back as Samuel reached out his hand, "Don't... don't touch me..."
His brow furrowed; her reaction was off.
"Tell me, what happened last night?"
At his question, she trembled like a leaf, panic-stricken, as if on the verge of collapse.
Lying had never been her strong suit, especially not about something as serious as the previous night's events.
Her eyes reddened in an instant, tears swirling.
"What's wrong?" Samuel pressed for answers, growing more anxious.
"I'm just so tired..." Layla wiped the tears from the corner of her eye. "It's just the pregnancy and work... I'm overwhelmed," she sobbed softly, like a little girl seeking comfort.
"Is that all?" Samuel exhaled in relief.
She was always so energetic, seemingly with boundless strength, yet at her core, she was a delicate 21-year-old young woman who needed protection and tender care. If he had his way, he wouldn't want her working during her pregnancy.
"Ugh... am I useless? Crying over such a trivial matter," Layla choked, her eyes darting away, too timid to meet his gaze.
"It's not uselessness, it's adorable," Samuel chuckled, lifting her up and gently placing her on the bed as if she were a porcelain doll.
"I've told you to just stay home and take care of yourself. But no, you insisted on going to work. It's not like I can't support us."
"I... I wasn't trying to be strong; it's just these pregnancy hormones wreaking havoc."
"Kind of like how some women get moody on their period?"
Layla nodded softly. "Yeah."
She reproached herself over and over in her heart: I'm sorry, Samuel, so very sorry.
She had a thousand urges to confess to him, yet a single reason kept her silent.
She had fallen for him.
Before she knew it, she had fallen hard.
She feared losing him.
She was a terrible, selfish coward.
Anxiety and guilt tormented Layla's heart. She couldn't help but snuggle closer, clutching him tightly. She was scared she might not get another chance to lie in his embrace.
If he knew about last night's incident, he would never want her, and she'd have no face to cling to him.
Was she doomed to be unhappy, unworthy of love? It felt as if the heavens wanted to hurl her down from the clouds.
"Samuel..." Layla's sobs became cries, her throat felt sour as if it were crammed with lemons.
"I'm here." Samuel knew women had their emotional times, especially pregnant ones with moods that changed like the wind. All he could offer was a warm embrace for her to cry into.
After she wept for a while, Samuel coaxed her to sip half a bowl of soup.
"You’re the most optimistic person I know. Never thought you'd be a crybaby," Samuel said with a mix of laughter and empathy as he look at her red, bunny-like eyes. He reached out to playfully tweak her nose.
"So... are you gonna return me?"
"Return?" Samuel raised an eyebrow, his features striking, "Is that even an option?"
Layla's eyes began to brim with tears again.
"Silly girl, just kidding. How could I return someone I adore so much?" In that moment, moved by her frail, tender figure, Samuel felt his affection for her deeply. It was as if his heart had turned into soft metal. He couldn’t help but want to pour all of his tenderness into her.
He lowered his head, moving toward her lips.
Suddenly, the image of Nathan kissing her flashed in front of Layla's eyes.
Amid the roses and lights, Nathan had pressed his lips onto hers, pinning her down on the couch.
"Stop—" She yelled out loud, desperately pushing against his chest.
Her gesture was full of resistance. She was panic-stricken.
Samuel furrowed his brows and asked, "What's wrong?"
"I... I just ate and didn't brush my teeth."
"We've kissed like this before," he said, suspicious of her reaction.
"I—I don’t like this. I’m feeling nauseous,” Layla muttered, anxiety tumbling through her like ants on a hot skillet, as she dodged his probing gaze.
She chastised herself fiercely, engulfed in shame.
She felt tainted, guilty of betrayal. How could she dare to be in his arms still?
"I'm going to bed," she said, desperate to escape.
"It's only seven o'clock."
"I'm really tired. I was up all night, talking with Alice. Barely slept.”
“Then let me hold you while you sleep."
"No, I want to be alone," Layla choked out, her voice breaking, unable to face him any longer, "Can you please leave?"
Samuel's frown deepened. He’d figured her earlier odd behavior was just pregnancy hormones at play, but now he couldn’t help but suspect something more.
Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to press her further at this moment.
"Alright, get some rest," Samuel conceded without further questions. He moved to kiss her forehead but Layla flinched away, curling up like a cat, her extremities cold—clear signs of resistance and insecurity.
Shutting the bedroom door behind him, Samuel put in a call to Mr. Vandella.
"Did you notice anything off about her when you picked her up this morning?" he asked, his voice stern.
There was a brief silence on the line before Mr. Vandella responded, "No, I didn’t notice anything unusual about Miss Adkins."
Samuel was about to probe further when another call came through.
“Doctor Tom," he said, his expression turning grave.
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