Chapter 90 No Negotiation Over the Child
Samuel's gaze darkened, and then he said calmly, "You're pregnant; you shouldn't get too worked up."
"You’re about to drive me to suicide," Layla said in agony. "Yes, people are flesh and blood. I do love this child, and I have my doubts and hesitations. But the Hollands will never let me have this baby. I don't want to go through pregnancy feeling like I'm carrying a bomb. I don’t want to always be worried about being harmed."
"I'm here, and I won't let anyone hurt you," Samuel gripped her hand, making a solemn promise.
"But you can’t be there to protect me every second, accidents happen. If I live in constant fear, I might miscarry, even if they don't lay a finger on me. And you've said you've suffered a lot; you don't want your child to be a bastard like you were..."
"He won't be a bastard," Samuel said at once. Having endured such inhumane experiences himself, how could he let his own child go through the same?
"So, what, you'll snatch him away once he's born?"
"You heard me clearly just now; I'll marry you."
Despite his words, Layla couldn't bear to even contemplate it.
"Do you love me?"
Samuel fell silent.
It was the answer Layla expected.
"I like you," Samuel continued. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have let you come to my bed that night. I've turned down many women. You were my first."
A flicker of surprise crossed Layla's sharp black and white eyes.
The first? How could that be?
Yet, she didn't think Samuel would lie about such a thing.
"So, from the moment I wanted you, I decided you would bear my child."
...
So, he had planned this for so long...
Layla's eyes widened in shock and, after a few seconds, her hands tremulously grasped his shirt as she lashed out in furious embarrassment, "What gives you the right to decide my life? You're nothing but a selfish jerk. How could you play with people's fates like this?"
Samuel was silent. She was right; he was proud and selfish. And all the women he’d encountered were desperate to tie themselves to him—he never expected there to be an exception like her.
Things weren’t going as he had anticipated. She wasn’t as simple or controllable as he'd thought.
"Samuel, I don't love you, not even close. No, I despise you. I couldn't care less about the Holland family fortune; I just want to live my own life." Layla's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, "We come from different worlds. I'm suffocating in the shadow of the Holland family."
"Please, let me end this pregnancy and start over. I'm begging you..."
Faced with her plea, Samuel felt a pang of compassion for a brief moment. Not because of the baby, but because of her. The extent of his feelings for her had long surpassed his own understanding. It was no longer just about conquest but something far deeper and more complex...
He couldn't bear the thought of her leaving him.
The fissure in his heart sealed immediately.
"There's no negotiating about the baby. Get some rest.” After saying this, Samuel left the room.
Layla wrapped herself in her arms, crying all through the night.
In the morning, her eyes were so sore and swollen she could hardly open them.
With no other clothes in the room, Layla had no choice but to step out in her nightgown. While standing in the hallway, she glared down at the man sitting in the dining area below.
"Give me back my clothes; I have to get to work."
"You need time to recover." Samuel sipped his coffee, nonchalantly.
Layla's anger flared; she was ready to lash out, but Mr. Morris interjected, "Miss Adkins, the doctor checked on you yesterday and found you were too weak. You really shouldn't overexert yourself; a week of bed rest would do you good. Mr. Holland is only looking out for your well-being."
"Looking out for me? Ha! Trapping me into pregnancy is for my own good? Forcing me to keep this child is for my own good? Holding me prisoner in this godforsaken place is 'for my own good'? So, just because he's rich, he can do no wrong, and I'm just an ungrateful dummy under his thumb?"
Layla fired her words like a volley of shots, leaving Mr. Morris speechless. Indeed, in this matter, Mr. Holland had been less than perfect.
A twenty-year-old young woman, naturally seeking freedom and inclined to rebel, couldn't stand to be controlled. And having a child right now really was premature for her.
Samuel remained silent.
Layla was fuming. She surely couldn't go to work in her nightgown, could she?
With a huff, she slammed the door.
Minutes later, Samuel entered with a bowl of pumpkin porridge.
Seeing the keys in his hand only fueled Layla's rage. As long as she was here, she'd be under his thumb with no privacy to speak of.
But then again, if Samuel had the power to control everything so effortlessly, where could she possibly run?
"I've taken care of your leave. Rest for three days, and after that, you can go wherever you want."
Layla gave him a cold look, “Should I be thankful?”
"Just eat the porridge.”
"I won't."
"I'm getting this for the kid," Samuel said casually.
"I need to step out; it's my brother's birthday tomorrow, and I need to pick up a gift for him."
"What do you have in mind? I can have Mr. Vandella pick something up for you."
Layla glared at him in disbelief. "The whole point of a gift is the thought behind it; of course, you have to pick it yourself. Ha, an emotionless iceman like you wouldn't understand."
"Then I'll go with you."
"Not necessary."
"The Hollands might still be after you; I should come to make sure you're safe."
"As long as I carry your child, safety is a fantasy," Layla countered. She wasn't some clueless girl.
Was he planning on keeping her locked up here until the baby was born?
Even with the child's birth, the Hollands wouldn't soften. This kind of persecution was relentless.
"Let's get married."
He said it so easily, but to Layla, it sounded ludicrous.
"There's a ton of women out there who'd kill to marry you. Go find one of them."
"And the streets are full of men. Why don't you just grab any one of them to marry?" Samuel retorted. "Just as I'd need to actually want to marry one of those women no matter how many there are."
"Layla, I've told you I like you. That's why I put up with your whims and foul temper. Any other woman would've been long dealt with by now."
Samuel wasn't joking.
He'd shown her his gentlest side, unlike the harshness he had for others, which was why she was so spoiled.
"I'd rather you did me in," Layla said coldly. "Your so-called 'liking' is nothing but novelty and a desire to control. Samuel, you're a heartless control freak."
Not wanting to argue such a pointless issue, Samuel suggested, "Have some soup, and I'll go gift shopping with you. Or would you rather spend the whole day in the villa?"
It didn't matter to him; as long as he was with her, anywhere would do.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
