Chapter 150 59 Seconds
At the villa.
"Miss Adkins, why are you home so early?" Mr. Morris was genuinely worried about her well-being.
Layla ascended the stairs, her presence ghost-like.
"The bodyguard insisted I prepare some chicken soup for you. Have some, won't you?"
"I'm not hungry."
Mr. Morris persisted, "The bodyguard is deeply concerned for you; it would be a shame to disregard his kindness."
Taking a step onto the staircase, Layla halted at his words, then turned back around.
"That's more like it, especially now that it's not just you." Mr. Morris brought the chicken soup, "Autumn's upon us; you should nourish yourself. It's good for you and the baby."
Layla took a sip of what should have been a sweet broth, but it tasted unbearably bitter and hard to swallow. Yet, she numbly forced herself to drink.
When he returned from Europe, she would confess.
She knew he would insist on her terminating the pregnancy, believing that a tainted woman had no right to carry his child, that the child was tainted, too.
No matter how much he doted on her, he couldn't abide such a fundamental transgression.
Tears blurred Layla's vision.
"Miss Adkins, how's the soup?" Mr. Morris inquired with a kind tone.
"It's delicious," Layla choked out.
"If you like it, I'll have the kitchen make it more often in the future."
No more ‘in the future.’ There was no future.
Holding back tears, Layla lifted her gaze and forced a smile for Mr. Morris, "Thank you for looking after me all this time."
"Don't mention it," Mr. Morris said warmly. "It's what I'm here for. You and the bodyguard are like family to me. Being with you all makes every day worthwhile." A happy gleam shone in his eyes as he continued, "My greatest wish now is for the little guy to be healthy. I gotta keep fit myself, so I can take care of the kid in the future."
Layla’s heart ached watching Mr. Morris dream of the future.
She could have been so happy... She had destroyed it with her own hands.
She blamed Nathan, but she despised herself even more.
Unable to take another sip, Layla pushed the bowl away and stood up, "I'm going to rest now."
"Miss Adkins, Miss Adkins?" Mr. Morris called as he walked to the elevator, but the doors had already closed.
What happened?
Mr. Morris was worried. Unable to reach Samuel, his brow furrowed tighter.
...
Back in her room, Layla locked the door and let the tears fall unchecked.
She wiped them away over and over, but they just kept flowing, cursing her helplessness.
But what else could she do? Nothing could change the situation; she had ruined her own happiness.
Curling up, she sat on the edge of the bed, hugging her knees, sobbing for a long while.
Her phone rang with a hidden number displayed.
She had a feeling it was him.
Too scared to answer, she buried the phone under a pillow.
"Ring, ring, ring…" The call persisted.
Just a second before the ringing was about to stop, Layla, as if possessed, hastily picked up.
"At the office?" Samuel's voice came through the receiver, reassuringly steady and powerful.
That reassurance only deepened Layla's sorrow.
"Home," she managed to say, "I'm at home..."
"Not feeling well? I'll send a doctor over."
"No, I'm not feeling ill. Just tired, so I came back to rest," Layla said, her hand muffling her nose, terrified her crying would give her away.
"You should still see a doctor, sweetheart."
"Yeah, I know." Layla forced a bittersweet smile. "Have you arrived?"
"Yeah."
Samuel glanced at his phone. The call had lasted only fifty seconds. It was too brief. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but time was pressing. He had to keep the call under a minute to avoid the Holland family tracing their location.
He shouldn't have called at all; the urge to hear her voice and his concern for her well-being overpowered his restraint.
"I've got things to handle. I miss you. Wait for me to come home."
"Samuel..." Layla's voice halted him, a lump forming in her throat as emotion overpowered her, "I miss you so much, too..."
Soon, she wouldn't even have the right to tell him that.
"Wait for me," he said tenderly before hanging up, his gaze lingering with reluctance.
The call had lasted 59 seconds—a brief yet priceless 59 seconds for Samuel.
Turning away, he pushed open the door to the room.
His mother, Caroline, lay peacefully on the bed, her expression serene, her skin pallid as the IV dripped nutrients into her veins. With tender eyes and a hint of sorrow, Samuel carefully tucked her in and took a seat beside her.
He took her hand gently and said, "Mom, I'm getting married—not to the woman the Hollands had in mind. Her name's Layla. She comes from a modest background, but she's the first girl I ever fell for, ten years my junior..." Samuel went on, talking to her with a smile, "I never thought I'd fall for a young girl—and I keep falling deeper every day.
"But that's love, isn't it? Unexplainable, uncontrollable..." he murmured, his voice laden with genuine feeling.
"You'd like her, I'm sure.
"I wanted to bring her here this time, but... she's pregnant. I didn't want to put her through the journey.
"You're going to be a grandmother soon.
"Mom, I'm longing for you to wake up, to be there at my wedding."
Samuel poured out his heart, but Caroline lay still and unresponsive.
A wave of sorrow swept over Sam, his heartache for his mother intensified by a rising bitterness toward the Hollands.
If only they hadn't banished him and his mother abroad for the sake of the Holland family's reputation. If only the Hollands hadn’t forced them to the streets, homeless, his mother wouldn't have been in that accident. She wouldn't be lying here now, like a living statue. Had he not been working himself to exhaustion to pay for her medical bills, his own kidneys wouldn't be failing.
He was forever grateful to his older brother for donating a kidney to him, but he held no gratitude for the Holland family; he was determined to take everything from them.
Samuel's gaze turned ice-cold in an instant.
A knock on the door preceded the nurse's entrance. "Doctor Tom is here."
"Rest now; I'll be right back," promised Samuel as he gently placed Caroline's hand back under the covers and stood up to leave.
After he softly closed the door behind him, Caroline's eyelashes fluttered slightly.
...
City A.
Midnight.
The bar thumped with music, while young men and women reveled in unrestrained fun.
A strikingly attractive mixed-race woman entered, her eyes alight with excitement. “Hey, isn’t that Mr. Marley?”
She made a move to approach him, but her friend cautioned, “Look, you’d be the twenty-third woman Mr. Marley has turned down tonight. Don’t bother.”
“Hah! As if they could compare to me. Watch and learn." The woman flipped her hair confidently and sashayed over, scoffing at the twenty-third rejected woman.
That woman returned a glance full of schadenfreude: Just wait to be embarrassed.
"Mr. Marley, won't you buy a lady a drink?" The bold woman draped her hand on Nathan's thigh.
Nathan, immersed in his whiskey, ignored her.
"Mr. Marley..." She coiled around him like a perfumed snake.
"Beat it—" Nathan grabbed her hand and shoved her away. Her high heels failed her, and she landed on the floor with a thud, drawing a round of laughter. She stormed off, seething with humiliation.
"You're injured, stop drinking," said a voice as Nathan's glass was snatched away. He was about to explode in anger but relented when he saw it was Nora.
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