Ex Wife's Trillionaire Revenge

Layla Jackson crashed into someone as she hurried across the courtyard, and the papers in her hands scattered before she could even catch her balance.

She dropped to her knees, reaching for the nearest page before the wind could carry it away. Another hand caught it first.

"Here. I think this one belongs to you."

Layla looked up at the young man standing in front of her. He held out the paper with an easy expression, as though bumping into strangers and picking up their belongings was part of his morning routine.

She took it from him and reached for another. "Thanks. I can get the rest."

He picked up two more before handing them over. "You seem to have a lot going on for someone who just arrived."

Layla frowned. "How do you know I just arrived?"

He glanced at the campus map lying beside her knee. "Because you're holding a map."

She followed his gaze and quickly picked it up.

"I still know where I'm going."

He looked at the papers scattered around her and then at the suitcase lying on its side.

"Sure."

Layla's eyes narrowed.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He handed her another paper. "Nothing. You just don't look like you know where you're going."

"I was doing fine until you got in my way."

His hand stopped.

"I got in your way?"

"You did."

"I was walking."

"So was I."

He gave a short laugh, clearly more amused than offended.

"Most people would apologize."

Layla gathered the last paper and pushed it into her bag before standing.

"I don't see a reason why."

His smile disappeared.

For a second, he looked at her as though she had just said something completely unreasonable.

"You're serious?"

Layla picked up her suitcase. "Very."

He looked at her worn handbag, then at the suitcase with its loose wheel, before his eyes settled on the scholarship letter sticking out of her bag.

"Are you here on a scholarship?"

Layla's expression hardened.

"Why does that matter?"

"It doesn't."

"Then why ask?"

He shrugged. "You don't exactly look like someone who grew up around here."

Layla pulled the scholarship letter farther into her bag.

"My mother can't afford a place like this. That's why I got the scholarship."

He glanced at her.

"And you're proud of that?"

Layla looked him directly in the eye.

"I earned it."

Something in his face shifted, but Layla didn't wait for a response. She unfolded her map and searched for the administration building.

The young man glanced at it.

"You're going the wrong way."

Layla looked up.

"I'm sorry?"

He pointed across the courtyard. "The administration building is over there."

She followed his finger and realized he was right.

Her cheeks warmed.

"You could have said that before."

"You were busy arguing with me."

"You were the one who started it."

"And you're still arguing."

Layla folded the map and slipped it into her bag.

"I have somewhere to be."

She started walking.

After a moment, she heard his footsteps behind her.

She turned.

"Are you following me?"

He glanced toward the same building.

"I'm going there too."

"You weren't."

"I changed my mind."

Layla stared at him, then shook her head and continued walking.

He caught up.

Neither spoke for a few seconds, until several students passed them and greeted him.

"Morning, Scott."

He acknowledged them with a nod and kept walking.

Layla looked at him.

"Scott?"

He glanced over.

"My name is Scott."

She nodded.

"Okay."

He frowned slightly. "That's all?"

"What else should I say?"

"Nothing."

She turned her attention back to the path.

A few moments passed before he spoke again.

"What's your name?"

"Layla."

"Layla what?"

"Jackson."

He nodded.

"Nice to meet you, Layla."

She gave him a small nod.

"You too."

They reached the administration building.

Layla stopped at the entrance and adjusted her bag.

"Thanks for showing me the way."

Scott nodded. "No problem."

She turned toward the doors.

"Layla."

She looked back.

"Your map is sticking out of your bag."

She pushed it inside.

"Thanks."

This time, she walked into the building without looking back.

At the front desk, a woman with blonde hair and glasses checked the documents Layla handed her.

"Layla Jackson?"

"Yes."

The woman searched through the list.

"Scholarship placement. Hartwell Hall, Room 214."

Layla accepted the key.

"Thank you."

The woman's hand remained on the file.

"You know Hartwell Hall is mostly occupied by students from some of the university's oldest families?"

Layla looked at her.

"No, I didn't."

"You'll be sharing the floor with several of them."

Layla nodded.

"I'll manage."

The woman studied her for a moment before continuing.

"There's another detail about your room assignment."

Layla waited.

"Your roommate is Vanessa Miller."

The surname caught her attention.

"Miller?"

"Yes. Vanessa Miller."

Layla hesitated before asking, "Is she related to Scott Miller?"

The administrator looked up.

"You know Scott?"

"I met him outside."

The woman glanced toward the entrance.

"Then yes. Vanessa is his cousin."

Layla looked down at the key in her hand.

She had known Scott for barely fifteen minutes.

Now she had discovered that his cousin was going to be her roommate.

"Did Vanessa know I was coming?"

The administrator checked the file.

"She specifically asked about her new roommate when your scholarship placement was confirmed."

Layla's brows pulled together.

"She asked about me?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

The administrator closed the file and returned to her computer.

Layla stepped away from the desk, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something about the situation didn't add up.

She had come to Dortmund to study.

She hadn't expected to know anyone.

She certainly hadn't expected to meet someone like Scott Miller within her first hour.

And she hadn't expected his cousin to already know her name.

Layla tightened her grip around the key and headed toward Hartwell Hall.

She had a feeling her quiet first day at Dortmund was already over.

Layla had barely stepped onto the staircase of Hartwell Hall when she spotted Scott standing at the bottom, his phone in one hand and the other tucked casually into his pocket.

He looked up when he heard her suitcase dragging across the floor.

His eyes moved from her face to the battered suitcase behind her.

"You found it."

Layla rested one hand on the railing. "You sound surprised."

"I am."

"Why?"

Scott slipped his phone into his pocket. "You got lost on your way to the administration building. I wasn't sure you'd survive the journey back."

Layla rolled her eyes and continued up the stairs. "I survived."

"I can see that."

He followed her up.

Layla glanced over her shoulder. "Are you following me again?"

"I live here."

She stopped halfway up the stairs and looked at him.

"You live here?"

Scott nodded. "Unfortunately."

"Why unfortunately?"

"Because now I have to see you again."

Layla scoffed and continued climbing. "Don't worry. I'm not planning to make you part of my daily routine."

"That's a shame."

She looked back at him.

His smile made her narrow her eyes.

"You're very annoying."

"I've been told."

"I'm not surprised."

They reached the third floor, and Layla checked the key in her hand.

"214."

Scott pointed down the hallway.

"Last door on the left."

Layla looked at him suspiciously. "You know where my room is?"

"I know where every room in this building is."

"Of course you do."

She dragged her suitcase down the hallway while Scott followed behind her.

When they reached the door, Layla put the key into the lock.

Before she could turn it, a female voice came from inside.

"Is that her?"

Layla paused.

Scott looked toward the door.

The lock clicked, and the door opened.

A blonde girl stood there with her arms folded, her eyes moving over Layla from head to toe.

Then she looked at Scott.

"You didn't tell me she was coming."

Scott shrugged. "I didn't know when she'd arrive."

The girl looked back at Layla.

"You're Layla Jackson."

Layla nodded. "Yes."

The girl smiled.

"I'm Vanessa Miller."

Layla glanced at Scott.

"My roommate?"

Vanessa's smile widened.

"Apparently."

Layla stepped inside, pulling her suitcase behind her.

The room was larger than she expected. Two beds stood on opposite sides, with a small sitting area between them and a large window overlooking the courtyard.

Vanessa followed her in and closed the door.

"I've been curious about you."

Layla turned toward her.

"Why?"

Vanessa leaned against the door.

"I heard we were getting a scholarship student."

Layla's expression tightened.

"And?"

"And I wanted to know what you were like."

"You could have just waited until I arrived."

"I did."

Layla studied her.

"You asked about me before I got here."

Vanessa's smile faded slightly.

"News travels quickly in this family."

Layla glanced toward Scott.

"What does your family have to do with my scholarship?"

Scott pushed away from the wall.

"Nothing."

Layla looked at him.

"Then why does everyone seem to know about it?"

"Because you're the only Whitmore Scholar this year."

His tone was casual, but there was something almost dismissive about it.

Layla placed her bag on the bed.

"So?"

Scott shrugged.

"So it's not exactly a secret."

Vanessa looked between them.

"You two already know each other?"

Scott answered before Layla could.

"We met this morning."

"And argued," Layla added.

Vanessa's eyebrows rose.

"You argued with Scott?"

Layla looked at him.

"He started it."

Scott gave a quiet laugh.

"You walked into me."

"And you still haven't let that go?"

"You still haven't apologized."

Layla folded her arms.

"Because I don't think I need to."

Vanessa looked at Scott with open amusement.

Scott shook his head.

"See what I mean?"

"You're the one who followed me here."

"I live here."

Layla opened her mouth, then closed it.

Vanessa laughed.

Scott glanced at his cousin.

"What?"

"Nothing."

He looked at Layla again.

"You're going to have a hard time here."

Layla's eyes narrowed.

"Is that supposed to scare me?"

"No."

"Good."

Scott smiled.

"It was advice."

"I didn't ask for it."

"I know."

Layla turned back to her suitcase.

Scott remained by the door for another moment before Vanessa spoke.

"Are you leaving?"

He looked at her.

"Yes."

"Good."

Scott frowned.

"You're kicking me out?"

"I want to get to know my roommate."

Layla glanced at Vanessa.

Something about the smile on her face made her uneasy.

Scott seemed to notice it too.

He looked at Layla.

"Good luck."

Layla raised an eyebrow.

"With what?"

"Vanessa."

Vanessa picked up a cushion from the bed and threw it at him.

"Get out."

Scott caught it easily and laughed as he stepped into the hallway.

"See you around, scholarship girl."

Layla turned toward him.

"Stop calling me that."

He smiled.

"Make me."

The door closed behind him.

Layla stared at it for a second before turning back to Vanessa.

Her new roommate was still smiling.

"What?" Layla asked.

Vanessa shook her head.

"Nothing."

Layla sighed.

"You and Scott say that a lot."

Vanessa's smile disappeared.

"Don't worry about Scott."

Layla started unpacking.

"I wasn't."

"Good."

Vanessa picked up her phone and glanced at the screen.

Then she looked at Layla again.

"But there is something you should know."

Layla stopped.

"What?"

Vanessa slipped her phone into her pocket.

"People here already know you're the scholarship girl."

Layla frowned.

"So?"

Vanessa walked toward the window.

"So some people will like you."

She turned.

"And some people won't."

Layla stared at her.

"And which one are you?"

Vanessa smiled.

"You'll find out."

Layla held the other woman's gaze, refusing to let the words move her, though something about the way she said it, slow and deliberate, like she was tasting the sentence before releasing it, made the hair on Layla's arms rise.

"That is a strange thing to say to someone you have never met," Layla said.

"Is it?" Vanessa descended the final two steps, moving with the unhurried confidence of someone who had never once worried about arriving anywhere too late or too early. "You would be surprised how much a family can learn about a scholarship applicant before she ever signs her housing forms."

Scott shifted beside Layla, and for the first time since the courtyard, some of his easy arrogance seemed to falter. "Vanessa."

"I am simply welcoming our new housemate, Scott." Vanessa's smile widened, cool and precise. "Room fourteen is just down the hall from mine. I am sure we will get to know each other very well this semester."

She swept past them both, trailing the scent of something expensive and floral, and disappeared through the common room without another word. Layla watched her go, uncertain whether she had just survived an introduction or a warning.

"You should not mind her," Scott said quietly, though he did not sound entirely convinced of his own advice.

"I don't remember asking you to explain it to me." Layla snapped

"No," he agreed. "You did not."

Layla left it there, gathering her suitcase and climbing the stairs alone, aware of Scott watching her go and choosing, for once, not to follow.

By the time Layla found her way to the campus dining hall the next morning, she had already decided that Dortmund Campus operated on rules nobody had bothered to write down for her.

She discovered the first of these rules the moment she set her tray down at an empty table near the tall windows overlooking the quad.

The table was long, polished dark wood, positioned in the most coveted corner of the dining hall where morning light fell in clean gold lines.

It seemed, to Layla, that this was simply the best available seat. She had not noticed the small brass plaque mounted discreetly at its edge, nor the way conversation around her had gone suddenly quiet.

She noticed the silence first. Then she noticed the stares.

A group of students near the coffee station had stopped talking entirely, watching her with the particular fascination people reserve for a stranger about to make a terrible mistake.

Layla ignored them, unwrapping her cutlery, telling herself she had simply become an object of curiosity because she was new.

She was three bites into her breakfast when a voice cut across the dining hall, sharp and carrying.

"I believe you are sitting in the wrong place."

Layla looked up to find a tall young man in a pressed blazer standing over her table, flanked by two others who wore matching expressions of amused disbelief.

She recognized his type immediately, the same easy entitlement she had seen in Scott during their first conversation, except without any of the warmth that had softened it.

"I am sorry?" Layla said.

"This table is reserved." He gestured at the small brass plaque she had missed entirely. "Founders' table. For legacy families only. I do not believe your name is on any list I am aware of."

Heat crawled up Layla's neck as she realized every eye in the dining hall had turned toward her.

Someone laughed quietly near the coffee station. Another voice murmured something about scholarship students not knowing where they belonged, pitched just loud enough to carry.

"I did not see a sign," Layla said, keeping her voice level despite the humiliation clawing up her throat.

"Perhaps you should look more carefully next time. Or perhaps," the young man said, smiling now, clearly enjoying the audience he had gathered, "someone should explain to you that certain places on this campus are simply not meant for people like you."

Layla's hands tightened around her fork. She thought of every argument she could make, every sharp retort that might defend herself, but arguing would only extend the humiliation, giving the gathering crowd more of a show than they already had.

She began gathering her tray instead, refusing to let her hands shake.

"Is there a problem here?"

Scott's voice arrived before Layla saw him, cutting through the murmur of the dining hall with an authority that made the young man's smug expression falter instantly.

"Miller." The young man straightened, his tone shifting immediately from mockery to careful respect. "No problem. Just reminding your friend here about table arrangements."

"Funny," Scott said, walking closer, hands in his pockets, his gaze moving slowly and deliberately across the small crowd that had gathered. "I do not recall table arrangements being your responsibility, Preston. Last I checked, that plaque belongs to my family, not yours."

Preston's face flickered, some of his confidence draining visibly. "I was only saying-"

"I heard what you were saying." Scott's voice remained pleasant, almost conversational, which somehow made it more unsettling than if he had raised it. "And now I am saying that Layla Jackson is sitting exactly where she is supposed to sit, because I invited her."

A ripple of surprise moved through the gathered students. Layla stared at Scott, equally startled, though she kept her expression carefully neutral.

"You invited her," Preston repeated.

"Is there an echo in here, or are you simply having trouble processing information this morning?"

Preston's jaw tightened, but he said nothing further, gathering his own tray and retreating with his two companions toward a table farther from the windows.

The dining hall slowly returned to its normal volume, conversations resuming, though Layla could feel curious glances still lingering in their direction.

Scott pulled out the chair across from her and sat down without asking, setting his own tray beside hers as though this had always been the plan.

"You did not have to do that," Layla said once the crowd's attention had fully dispersed.

"I am aware."

"Then why did you?"

Scott considered the question longer than she expected, his usual easy charm briefly absent, replaced by something more careful.

"Because Preston has been waiting for an excuse to embarrass someone since the semester started, and I decided I did not feel like watching him succeed today."

"That is not an answer."

"No," he admitted. "It is not."

Layla studied him, searching for whatever motive lay beneath his sudden generosity, remembering the accusation he had leveled at her just the day before, certain she wanted something from his family's name.

"Yesterday you assumed I orchestrated an entire collision to get close to you," she said slowly. "Today you humiliate the son of, I assume, another important family, in front of half the dining hall, to defend me. Which version of you am I supposed to believe?"

Scott's eyes flickered quick and unguarded before he masked it again.

"I am still deciding that myself," he said.

Before Layla could press further, a shadow fell across their table, and she looked up to find Vanessa standing there, arms crossed, her earlier polite mask entirely gone, replaced by something considerably colder.

"Scott," Vanessa said, her voice tight with barely controlled fury. "A word. Now."

"what do you want? Whatever you have to say has to waitI I am in the middle of breakfast."

"You defended a scholarship student against the Whitfield family's son, in front of the entire dining hall, less than one day after meeting her." Vanessa's eyes cut toward Layla, sharp enough to draw blood. "Your father is going to hear about this within the hour, and I promise you, he will not be pleased