Chapter 4 The weight of desperation

Layla's pov

From the moment I entered Damian's realm, I sensed I was a shadow-minor, unimportant, and perpetually eclipsed by his might. His penthouse mirrored his character flawlessly. It was frigid, emotionless, and unbelievably magnificent. The walls were embellished with invaluable artwork, the type you typically find in museums, and the perspective from the large windows extended infinitely over the city skyline. It was stunning yet stifling, a perpetual indication of how distanced I had become from the life I previously experienced.

The days went by in a haze of stress. I couldn't dismiss the recollection of the elderly man at the meal, his enigmatic phrases resonating in my thoughts. "Recovering after what Monroe did to you must have been difficult." What had my dad done to Damian? What was it about the name "Monroe" that held such significance and resentment in this world?

Damian, naturally, provided no insight. He stayed true to his usual demeanor-aloof, frosty, and enigmatic. I despised the way he appeared to relish my bewilderment, observing me struggle for solutions while he remained well ahead.

It was intolerable. I concluded that I could no longer remain inactive. If Damian didn't plan to reveal the truth to me, I would uncover it on my own.

One afternoon, I grabbed my laptop and settled at the kitchen counter, resolved to discover any secrets my family might be concealing. I began with Monroe Enterprises.

Initially, everything appeared to be typical. The firm had been a leader in real estate for years, capturing headlines with tales of its achievements. However, as I explored further, I observed an unsettling pattern.

The firm had been discreetly disposing of assets-not merely one or two, but many. Complete portfolios had been dissolved over the previous year. The insight struck me like a blow to the stomach. Monroe Enterprises wasn't flourishing; it was crumbling.

I reclined in my chair, my heart racing. This was kept from me by my parents. Why?

Before I had a chance to think about it more, my phone vibrated. It was my mom.

Her note was brief and pressing: "Contact me." "Currently."

A feeling of dread formed in my stomach as I punched in her number. She picked up on the first ring.

"Layla," she uttered sharply, her voice already tense. "We need to have a conversation."

"What's the matter?" I inquired carefully.

"It's the business," she remarked, her tone strained with irritation. "Your dad and I... we require Damian's assistance."

The urgency in her voice was clearly evident. "Assistance with what?"

"The company is in trouble," she confessed, her voice trembling a bit. "If Damian doesn't intervene, we'll end up losing everything." "All of it, Layla."

My chest grew constricted. "And you expect me to plead with him for assistance?"

"You're his spouse," she retorted, as if that designation held any significance in this absurd union. "This falls under your responsibility." "You are indebted to us for this."

I held the phone so firmly that my knuckles became pale. "Do I owe you?" Following all that you've put me through? You treated me like a pawn in a deal, and now you expect me to beg at Damian's feet? No. "I will not do it."

Her voice became frigid. "You have no option, Layla." If you fail to persuade him, your father's heritage will be ruined. Do you wish to have that on your conscience? "Do you wish to be the cause of your family losing everything?"

Her words pierced sharply, yet they also ignited a spark of resistance inside me. "Perhaps you ought to have considered that before using me as a pawn," I retorted, my voice quaking with feeling.

"Don't act selfishly," she whispered. "This is not regarding you." "This pertains to the family."

"I'm a member of this family as well," I said softly. "And I no longer wish to be taken advantage of."

I hung up before she could say more, my hands trembling as I placed the phone down. Tears clouded my sight, yet I wouldn't allow them to drop.

That evening, Damian came back home, his presence just as authoritative as before. He strolled into the living room, unfastening his tie as if he bore no worries whatsoever.

"Damian," I remarked, rising from the sofa. "Could we have a conversation?"

He raised an eyebrow, obviously captivated. "Without a doubt."

I paused, my heart racing. "Are you... aware of my family's financial circumstances?"

A smile crept at the edge of his mouth, and I immediately wished I hadn't asked. "Certainly, I'm aware." Did you truly believe I would join your family in marriage without being fully aware of everything?

His arrogant tone sent chills down my spine. "Then you realize they are facing difficulties."

He served himself a beverage, gliding with exasperating grace. "I do," he replied, taking a drink. "And I assume they want you to request my assistance."

I nodded, experiencing a blend of rage and embarrassment. "Indeed."

He rested against the bar, observing me with those intense gray eyes. "And what is it that you desire, Layla?" "Would you like me to keep them?"

I gulped nervously, my throat parched. "Absolutely not," I replied resolutely. "I'm weary of being their tool." "I will not allow them to exploit me again."

Damian's expression changed just a bit, a brief look of surprise passing over his face. "Fascinating," he whispered. "I never expected you would have the courage to oppose them."

"I'm not doing this for you," I replied, my voice trembling. "I simply... I can't continue being taken advantage of."

He placed his glass down and moved a step closer to me. His presence was immense, saturating the room and leaving me feeling insignificant. "You are gaining knowledge," he said softly. "However, don't trick yourself into believing this has concluded." Your family isn't going to surrender so quickly. "They will relentlessly pursue you until they obtain what they desire."

I turned my head, unable to make eye contact with him.

"Let me clarify one point," he went on, his tone icy and firm. "I will not rescue your family." They created their situation, and now they must face it. Yet you, Layla... are allowed to decide for yourself. "Simply be ready to deal with the outcomes."

His remarks lingered in my mind well after he departed the room. Damian was correct-my family wouldn't back down. What he failed to realize was that I was no longer merely opposing them. I was battling him, battling this whole situation that had ensnared me in a tangle of deceit and control.

I was unsure of how to break free, but one fact was clear: I couldn't allow them to triumph. Not now.