Chapter 3 Silence.

Layla

It dropped right between them like a fragile barrier-transparent, thin, and breaking it would cut deep. Layla felt her heart racing, each beat louder than the soft buzz of the café. Adrian's phone was still sitting on the table, the message glowing like a warning sign. She could feel a tight knot in her throat. This was the moment she had been trying to avoid.The moment everything she worked so hard for-the space she created, the new version of herself, the fresh start-was about to crumble.

Adrian's voice was quieter now, steadier than she expected. "Is it true?"

She couldn't lie. Not now. Not with the truth staring them both down like a loaded gun.

"My father is Thomas Hart," she whispered. "Yes."

Adrian relaxed a bit, and it seemed like the vibe shifted. He tightened his jaw ."Why didn't you say anything?" Layla looked down at her hands, pressing her nails into her palms to keep herself from shaking. "Because that name is a curse."Because people don't hear 'Layla Hart' and see me. They see a scandal. A lie. A ruined man.

I didn't want you to see that.

And here we are, Adrian replied, his tone sharp with something she couldn't quite put her finger on-maybe it was betrayal.Or disappointment. Both felt like knives.

She swallowed hard. I've never touched his money. Everything I have, I earned."

"And yet you kept the name."

Layla flinched. "It's mine too. I won't spend my life erasing myself just because he ruined his."

Adrian looked away then, out the window, like the city might offer an easier answer. His fingers drummed once, then stilled.

"I should be angry," he said finally. "I am angry.

Not for the reason you might think, Layla said, frowning a bit.

"Then why?"

He looked back at her. "Because part of me knew. From the moment you said your name. And I still let myself want you."

She paused, a breath stuck in her throat. You don't even know me, she said quietly. I was trying to, he replied.

"But now..."

She braced herself for the end. For him to stand up, walk out, and disappear like every other door that had ever slammed shut in her face.

But instead, Adrian's voice dropped, quiet but steady. "What exactly did your father do?"

Layla blinked, surprised by the question. "You don't already know?"

"I know what the papers said. I know what my father said. But I don't know your truth."

Something broke open in her chest-just a crack, just enough.

She hesitated, then said, "My father didn't just work in finance. He lived in it. He was brilliant... and reckless. When things started going wrong at Blackwell Holdings, he tried to fix it quietly. Tried to protect his clients. But he stepped on the wrong toes. The kind with enough money and power to twist the story before it hit the headlines."

"You're saying he was framed?"

"I'm saying he was sacrificed," Layla said, voice bitter. "Thrown under the bus to save a company's reputation. My father signed one deal he shouldn't have-under pressure, under threats. The next day, he was blacklisted and labeled a traitor. And Blackwell Holdings got to play the hero."

Adrian sat back slowly, expression unreadable.

She didn't stop. "You think I came here with a plan? I've been trying to survive. To do good in a world that chewed up my family and spit us out. But it never mattered. That name follows me everywhere."

He stared at her, long and quiet.

Then said, "My father said Thomas Hart stole from us. That he betrayed confidential accounts to our competitors."

"He did what he had to do to stop your father from bankrupting working-class clients to save a merger," Layla snapped. "And I have proof."

Adrian blinked. "What?"

Layla hesitated, then said, "My father kept everything. Emails. Records. He gave them to me before he disappeared. Told me to burn them. I didn't."

She paused. "I never planned to use them. But if the Blackwells come for me, I won't just sit quietly. Adrian stood up suddenly, the chair screeching against the floor.A couple glanced their way.

Layla stood too, pulse pounding.

"Adrian-"

"Where are they?" he asked, voice sharp. "The files. The proof."

I'm not giving them to you.

I'm not asking for them, he replied, moving a bit closer. I just want to take a look.Because if you're telling the truth, then my father has been lying to me my entire life."

Her chest tightened.And what if I'm wrong? Adrian said, his jaw tightening. "Then I walk away. From this. From you. And I won't look back."

Layla felt it then-the thin line they stood on. Everything below them was sharp, jagged, and waiting. But she nodded.

I'll show you, she said softly. Just not today or in this café. But soon. Adrian looked at her for a while before slowly nodding. Okay. They stood there, both feeling the weight of their pasts and the new things between them. In that moment, something real lingered in the air. Later that night, Layla was alone in her apartment, a manila folder resting on her lap.Inside it was everything.

Her father's voice echoed in her mind, low and tired from that final night before he disappeared: "Keep it, Layla. If anything ever happens, you'll need it. You can't trust them-not even the ones who look you in the eye."She had told herself she'd never open it again.

Now, she peeled the flap back slowly.

Emails. Transaction records. Memos that weren't supposed to exist. Her father hadn't lied.

She leaned back, heart thudding, the past suddenly alive again in her hands.

If Adrian saw this, he might never see her the same way again. Not because of what her father had done-but because of what his father had.

It would shatter his world.

And still, part of her wanted to give it to him. Not for revenge. Not to hurt him.

But because the only way forward between them was through fire.

Her phone buzzed beside her.

A message.

Adrian: when you're ready, I'll be there.

No lies."

She stared at it for a long time.

Then typed back.

Layla: "Then be ready to see everything. Even if it breaks us."

She hit send.For the first time in ages, Layla found herself feeling hopeful. She stood by the window, looking out at the city sparkling under the stars. The headlights created gentle streaks on the glass, but her eyes were fixed on the folder resting on her kitchen counter.Every step forward with Adrian now felt like stepping barefoot through broken glass-every word, every truth, a potential wound.

She didn't want to hurt him.

But the truth wasn't something she could bury anymore. Not now. Not with everything shifting between them.

Her phone buzzed again.

This time it wasn't a message. It was a call.

Adrian.

Her breath caught as she answered."Hey," she said quietly.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he replied right away. "About what you said. About what I said."Layla rested her arms on the counter and said, "I didn't expect you to call tonight."

"I couldn't sleep. I've been lying here for an hour, questioning if I messed up. Was I pushing you away to protect myself, or trying to save my family's name?"

She stayed quiet, afraid to say anything that would make it all hit home. "I don't know who I can trust anymore," he admitted. "But I can't forget how you looked at me when you shared the truth. You were straight with me." "No," she said. "I wasn't."

He was quiet for a beat. Then: "Do you still have it? The folder?"

"I do."I want to check it out, he said. "I need to."

Layla hesitated. "Tomorrow. My place. But if you come, Adrian... you have to come ready to face everything. Even the parts that hurt."

His voice lowered. "I already am."

I have to, Layla said, taking a moment. Tomorrow at my place. But, Adrian... you need to be ready for it all. Even the tough stuff.

He spoke softly, I'm ready. "No," Layla agreed. "There isn't."

And she stepped aside, letting him in.

Letting fate in.