"Bella, the reunion is tomorrow. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to co?" Kylie asked over the phone, her voice tinged with disappointnt. "We kept rescheduling just for you. Everyone’s been so excited to see you, and now, out of nowhere, you’re saying you won’t be there?"
"I’m really sorry, Kylie," Orabela replied quietly.
"So, does that an Layla won’t co either?" Kylie pressed.
"I have no idea," Orabela answered flatly.
Kylie sighed. "Oh, co on! Without you two, it just won’t be the sa. Besides, Layla’s been all over the news lately. Marriage seems to have transford her—she’s got that radiant glow and everything. I can’t help but envy her; she’s found such a devoted husband."
Orabela felt her patience slipping. "I have a headache, Kylie. Let’s talk later, okay?"
"Alright... but, one last thing," Kylie added, not quite ready to let her off the hook. "Is it true you’ll be the next chairwoman? There’s this strange rumor going around that Layla might actually take over your father’s company instead."
"Kylie, if you know who started that rumor, then bring them to ," Orabela said sharply, her patience finally snapping. "I’ve had enough for today, and this headache isn’t helping. Let’s end this conversation here." Without waiting for a reply, she hung up and switched off her phone, tossing it aside with frustration.
"They’re planning to push out... as if I an nothing to them anymore," she muttered bitterly, her voice tight with anger and hurt. "How could it be so easy for them? The love Mom and Grandma once had for —it’s like it’s vanished completely."
She clenched her fists, feeling the betrayal sink deeper, as if the very people she had trusted most had suddenly turned their backs on her.
Even Layla wasn’t helping her. Orabela had tried to win her over, hoping that a few sincere words would awaken so sympathy in her, but Layla didn’t fall into her trap this ti.
Feeling utterly isolated, Orabela strode over to her cupboard and opened it with trembling hands. Inside the chest of the drawer lay a single, hidden file—a docunt she had painstakingly kept concealed from everyone.
She reached for it, her grip tightening around it as though it were her last lifeline. Holding the file close, she felt a small glimr of hope amid the chaos in her life.
"I won’t let them snatch from what’s mine," Orabela murmured.
~~~~
Layla set her handbag down on the couch, then eased herself onto the plush cushions, letting out a small sigh of relief. She thanked the maid with a polite nod as she accepted a glass of water, taking slow sips.
Just as she was finishing, the maid cleared her throat gently to get her attention. "Madam, soone left this envelope at the main gate," she said, holding out a plain, unmarked envelope. Its edges were slightly crumpled, and there was no indication of who had sent it.
Layla’s brows knitted together in curiosity. "Who left this?" she asked, eyeing the envelope suspiciously.
"I’m not sure, Madam. There’s no na or note," the maid replied apologetically, handing over the mysterious package.
With a final nod, Layla took the envelope from her, turning it over thoughtfully as the maid gathered her empty glass and exited the room.
Alone now, Layla carefully tore open the envelope, her heart quickening with a strange anticipation.
Inside, she found a collection of old newspaper clippings, so grainy photographs, and, tucked in at the back, a small USB drive.
Layla unfolded the articles, her eyes narrowing as she skimd the headlines detailing the tragic death of Antoine De Salvo, the heir of the powerful De Salvo family.
Every article implicated Lucius in Antoine’s untily death, casting shadows of suspicion and bla on him for the accident that had claid Antoine’s life.
Setting the articles aside, Layla picked up the photographs, her fingers lingering on their faded edges. The date stamped on them confused her more—it was the day of the accident. The images showed the wreckage of Antoine’s car, which was unrecognisable after the crash with the divider.
One photo captured Lucius with minor cuts and bruises, while Antoine had heavy injuries on his body.
"Roderick..." she whispered under her breath, suspicion lacing her tone. Had he sent this to rattle her? He knew the risks involved in contacting her directly, and she’d warned him repeatedly to stay away from her.
Layla dug her phone out of her handbag, her pulse quickening as she navigated to the Blocklist and scrolled until she found Roderick’s number and called him. After a few rings, his voice ca through.
"Why are you calling , Layla?" he asked, his tone revealing a trace of surprise.
"Don’t play gas with , Roderick," she spat, barely containing her anger. "Why did you send that envelope? I told you to stay out of my life and stop ddling."
He hesitated, then replied in an almost baffled tone, "What envelope? I don’t know what you’re talking about."
Layla’s grip on the phone tightened, frustration boiling over. "Don’t pretend you don’t know anything," she snapped. "I’m sick of these gas."
Roderick’s sigh ca through the line, sounding almost weary. "Layla, you always assu I’m lying. I genuinely have no clue what envelope you’re referring to." She could hear the sound of his footsteps, then the rustle of keys as he seed to be stopping by his car.
Layla, feeling her patience reach its end, abruptly ended the call. Without hesitation, she re-blocked his number, her mind whirling with questions.
"If it wasn’t him, then who?" she murmured, staring at the mysterious docunts scattered before her. "And why was soone taking pictures of Lucius and Antoine on the day of their accident?"
Her gaze shifted to the USB lying beside the papers and she picked it up.
Collecting the envelope, photographs, and USB, Layla hurried upstairs to her bedroom and powered on Lucius’s laptop. She inserted the USB, her hands a bit shaky, and opened the drive’s contents. Inside, she saw a single file: a video. After a mont’s hesitation, she pressed "Enter."
And the video began to play.
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