Chapter 2 All she could think about was him.

Layla

She sat curled on the edge of her apartment's small sofa, half a cup of untouched coffee growing cold on the table in front of her. Her heels from the gala were still abandoned by the door. Her dress hung on the back of a chair, the green silk now wrinkled and forgotten.

All she could think about was him.

Adrian Blackwell had been a mistake from the moment she said her name. She'd seen it in the way his shoulders stiffened, in the delay that hadn't meant nothing.

She'd told herself it didn't matter. That maybe he didn't know. That maybe the sins of her father wouldn't follow her here. But deep down, she'd known better.

The Blackwells didn't forget.

Adrian had this calm charm and those smooth smiles, but deep down, he was still one of them. Layla waked up and walked to the window, placing her arms on her chest as she gazed out at the busy morning hold up in Manhattan. It was too far to hear, but she couldn't help but observed it.

Every taxi horn and blur of motion reminded her how small her world really was.

She didn't regret her work. Hart to Heart had saved lives-hers included. Giving kids a second chance, a voice, a purpose... that was something real. Something worth everything she'd lost to build it.

But last night reminded her that no matter how far she climbed, there were still doors she would never be invited through without suspicion.

Her phone buzzed.

She flinched, heart suddenly hammering. Him?

She forced a smile. "Maybe. It's not exactly an uncommon name."

But her stomach twisted. She hated this-tiptoeing through conversations, never knowing when her past might catch up to her present. Her father's legacy was a shadow she had spent most of her life running from. One careless whisper and people would connect the dots. She couldn't let Adrian-or anyone in this world-know who her father really was.

Not yet.

Adrian, for his part, didn't press. But there was a new stillness in him, as if he'd cataloged her answer and was filing it away for later.

"Hey," he said, decreasing his voice, "I'm not the best with... people. But if you're up for pretending this event isn't terrible, I'd pick you over anyone else here."

Layla lifted an eyebrow and smiled a bit. "Is that you trying to ask me to stay?"

"Something like that."

She glanced toward the door. Then back at him. Damn it.

"Alright, Adrian Blackwell. Surprise me."

He motioned toward the edge of the ballroom. "There's a balcony through here. Less noise. Better air."

Layla hesitated only a second before following.

The city lights blinked below them like stars spilled across concrete.

Layla looked at him, her heart racing. She confused . The gallery felt relaxed, with low conversations and the occasional clink of glasses behind the doors. Small breeze touched her skin. Adrian stood behind her, hands in his pockets, watching out at the view. After sometime, he said, I wasn't really feeling like going out tonight.' She looked over at him for a second.

"Then why are you?"

"My father. Optics. Family duty. All the usual chains."

Layla turned to face him fully. "And are you as trapped as you sound?"

His smile was faint and a bit melancholy. "Sometimes I feel like I was born in a cage with soft walls." That wasn't what she thought he would say.Not from a man like him.

She didn't speak for a moment. Then: "I know a thing or two about cages. Though mine didn't come with a view."

Adrian looked at her, really looked this time. "You're different."

"Is that your best line?"

Layla looks at him, her heart pounding. She had no idea what to say.A part of her wanted to just come out and be honest. About her name. Her father. Why she never should've come tonight.

Her wild side didn't want this to end. "I'm thinking," she carefully said, "maybe I should just walk out from this." "So why don't you?" he asked. "Because," she whispered, "I just know you'd come after me."

He didn't argue with that.And that scared her more than anything.

Because she wasn't sure who'd get hurt if he did.

Eden: You okay? Saw the Blackwell gala photos. You looked like you belonged there, L.

Eden (again): Also, who's the tall glass of trouble in the tux beside you?

Layla sighed, typing back a lie and a deflection.

Layla: It was just a gala. Nothing new. That guy? Nobody important.

She stared at the message for a moment before hitting send. Eden didn't need to know. No one did.

Still, part of her itched to talk to Adrian again. Not the billionaire or the Blackwell heir. Just the man who stood beside her on the balcony, confessing he felt trapped in a world he didn't choose. The man who looked at her like she was more than just a pretty accessory at an event full of ghosts.

But that version of him might not even be real.

She crossed the room to her laptop, flipping it open. Maybe it was time to focus on work. She had an outreach campaign to launch next week, two grant applications to revise, and an entire board meeting to prep for.

She clicked into her email-and froze.

One new message.

From: blackwell.adrian@blackwellholdings.com

Subject: About last night.

Her throat went dry.

She opened it.

> Layla,

I don't usually do this. I'm not someone who chases things. But I haven't been able to stop thinking about you-or the way you looked when you said I'd follow you.

You were right.I don't know much about you yet, and it seems like there are things you aren't quite ready to share. That's okay.I've got my own ghosts.

But I'm not done. Not yet. Let me see you again. Somewhere away from our last names.

- Adrian

Layla read the message three times, her heart thudding harder with each pass.

Somewhere away from our last names.

She knew what that meant. A chance to keep pretending this wasn't dangerous. That her truth wouldn't destroy everything if it came out.

She didn't know what terrified her more-that Adrian might turn on her if he found out the truth... or that he wouldn't.

Because what then?

What happened if she let herself fall?

Three days later, Layla walked into the small corner café Adrian had suggested-just far enough from midtown glitz to avoid cameras, but just expensive enough to suggest he came here often. She wore a navy sweater, jeans, and a scarf to hide her face from recognition. Just in case.

She spotted him instantly-seated near the window, black coffee untouched, fingers drumming a slow rhythm on the table like his thoughts were louder than the room.

He looked up the moment she walked in.

He stood.

"Hi," she said, quieter than she meant to.

"Hi," he replied, and there was something in his eyes-something softer than before. Something real.

They sat.

The quiet hung between us, not in a bad way, just tense.

I didn't think you'd show up, he said after a moment.

I was surprised you thought to reach out.He grinned a little. Looks like we both have our surprises.

She fiddled with her napkin, then asked, "Why me, Adrian? You don't even know me."

"I know enough.""No, you don't," she quickly said.Too quickly.

He leaned forward. "Then tell me."

She looked away.

He didn't press.

He lowered his voice and said, "I hear this voice in my head whenever I think about you."

Telling me this is reckless. Dangerous. That I should walk away."

Layla met his gaze, something sharp and honest rising between them. "Me too."

And here we are. They looked at each other, lost in the moment. The clink of mugs and soft chatter slowly faded. Layla breathed deeply, feeling a little nervous. "Adrian, I need to talk to you about something-" Just then, his phone rang loudly on the table.

He glanced down.

His face changed.Layla had a tight feeling in her stomach. "What's going on?" Adrian met her gaze, and she could see he was unsure.He flipped the screen toward her.

An anonymous message. Same number.

> She's not who she says she is. Ask her about Thomas Hart. Or better yet, ask your father why he buried the truth.

Layla went cold.

Her hands trembled.

Adrian slowly lowered the phone.

And for the first time since they met, she saw it-the wall going up behind his eyes. The distance. The doubt.

"Layla," he said, voice rough. "Who are you really?"

And she knew, just like that...

Whatever came next would break them.

Or bind them forever.