Ever After Awaits (Layla) novel Chapter 30

Chapter 30: Layla POV

“Excuse me?!” my voice is so high pitched that I’m afraid I might shatter glass any second.

“You heard Michael,” my mom says in a condescending tone as if she is speaking to a petulant child.

“No, I don’t think I did. It almost sounded like he said you guys are pawning me off to some rich, spoiled brat as his trophy wife all in an attempt so you can make a few more million dollars as if we are still living in the dark ages where arranged marriages were the norm. But that could not be correct, because in which version of your reality do you think I’d ever consent to being some puppet in your bid to line your pockets.

some more?”

By the time I’m done with my rant, my chest is heaving, my breath is ragged, and I can feel a headache forming at the back of my left eye. Arranged marriage, my ass.

“Now listen here, Layla…” Mom starts in the tone she always uses when she thinks she can bulldoze me. But unluckily for her, my fuck–o–meter has just run out and I’m done.

Taking a step forward in her direction, I snap at her, “No Mom, you listen. I’m not a silly little girl for you to pass along to the next paying individual, all so you have more money for Botox, fillers, and spa days. I’m done being your minion so you can look good to your friends, be seen on the society pages, or be allowed into the latest country club.”

I turn to storm from the room, but my mom grips my lower arm, her sharp manicured nails biting into my skin. “You will not speak to me like that, and you will fall in line. You will not ruin this for us,” she spits at

1. me.

My gaze drops to her hand, and I have had enough. I’ve never had any inclination to get physical with anyone, least of all my mother, but she has gone too far.

Sliding my gaze up to hers from where she is still clinging to my arm, my lip tips up in a snarl, and when our eyes connect, she must realize she fucked up because hers open wider and there is a slight tremble to

her hand.

“Mother, you better remove your hand from my arm or the next call I make is to a lawyer to file a

restraining order against you. This is not the first time you’ve laid your hands on me after Dad’s death, but I can promise you, it is the last.”

During our altercation, Xavier and his dad were quiet, Moira made herself scarce into the pantry, and the boys went upstairs to take the “happy couple’s” luggage to their bedroom. But as soon as my last words leave my mouth, there is a collective inhale of surprise from various parties. It seems like they all returned during the latter part of my speech though. Yay me.

Great, another embarrassing secret I didn’t want everyone to know. After Dad’s death, my mom first became distant which I initially chalked up to grief over the passing of the love of her life. Then she became angry when his Will did not leave every penny of his estate to just her. The fact that she had to

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Chapter 30: Layla POV

share Dad’s money and assets with her own daughter, was in her eyes, equal to being asked to swim in crocodile–invested rivers – blasphemous.

Her anger towards me slowly started to manifest in the form of things being thrown in my direction, then “accidentally” scratching me, after which the grabbing, pinching, and even tripping started. All in all, no major injuries like broken bones were inflicted, and the bruises were always small enough that they could be chalked up to me being clumsy, but that did not diminish the fact that it was my only living parent who was causing them. I think that was the hardest pill to swallow.

Surprisingly, Michael speaks up first, “Allison, what is she talking about?” The look he gives her speaks. volumes and I would like to see how she plans to explain this to him.

My mom drops my arm, turns to him, and pulls a cloak of innocence over her features, giving him a sweet- as–pie smile. I roll my eyes and know from experience that she intends to play the “Oh woe is me” card.

Deciding that I’ve had enough of this day and all its bullshittery, I swivel on my heel and head towards the front door. Footsteps can be heard behind me, but I have no desire to stop right now. Again, my mom has decided to make a mockery of my life for her gain. Typical.

“Layla!” someone calls from behind me, but I can’t tell who as I’m in the middle of a semi–breakdown.

I’ve always been a private person. The fact that something I’ve felt ashamed of the last couple of months has been broadcasted so publicly to various people that never should have known, makes my skin crawl and my insecurities rear its ugly head.

“Layla, stop!” another voice calls, but I force my legs to keep moving. If I stop now, I’ll see the pity in their eyes, and being pitied by them will break me. I refuse to be broken, not again.

I get my car unlocked, slip inside, and immediately lock my doors again, all while not lifting my head. Starting the ignition, I look up to check my rearview mirror, but my eye catches all four of them along with Moira standing at the bottom of the steps, various expressions on their faces – anger, hurt, sadness, pity, and empathy.

Severing the connection, I drive off, uncertain where I’m headed. All I do know is that I need to escape from that house. Away from that woman who claims she is my mother. And, far away from the people at the bottom of the stairs who have become important to me in various ways and will undoubtedly look at me differently from here on out.

The first tear falls when I reach the outskirts of town, followed by a steady stream of them. Knowing I can’t drive like this, I turn off onto a dirt road leading to a gravel parking lot that overlooks a lush tree- filled valley down below.

Luckily the lot is empty except for my car, and I get to ugly–cry in peace behind my steering wheel.

I’ve always been a glass–half–full person, seeing the good in people and the positive in any situation that I’m in. I try my best to be kind and helpful where possible because I believe in treating others as you want

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Chapter 30: Layla POV

to be treated. But the last couple of months have just been a barrage of bad news and shitty actions by others toward me. One person can only take so much before they reach their limit.

I know these recent events won’t suddenly change me into a pessimist, and I’ll feel boatloads better by tomorrow. But right here, right now I need to wallow for a few minutes, alone and without judgment.

After a couple of minutes, a few soaked tissues, and some sad songs on my Spotify, I’ve calmed down enough to breathe normally and not have blurry vision. I get out of the car and walk over to the wooden bench behind the railing at the edge of the overhang.

While I’ve been out here, the sun has gone down and the stars have come out to play. Tipping my head back, I stare at them and take deep calming breaths. It truly is beautiful out here and I promise myself that this spot will be where I go from now on if I ever need to escape, even if it is just for a little while.

My phone chimes and I sigh loudly, expecting it to be my mom, telling me off and summoning me back

home.

Surprisingly, it’s a message from Moira.

* Moira: Are you safe? *

* Layla: Yes, sorry I left without saying anything.*

*Moira: No need to apologize. I just wanted to let you know I’ll be here if or when you want to talk.”

Moira’s words make me sniffle and I can’t believe that a woman I’ve not even known for a couple of weeks, is more worried about me than my own flesh and blood.

Layla: Thank you. *

Moira: The boys have left. I’ll let you know when Mr. and Mrs. Reed have gone to bed so you can come home without running into one of them again. *

Her formality when it comes to speaking about my mom makes me snort in disgust. She was most likely forced to call my mom by that moniker so she wouldn’t forget her place in the house. The joke is on my mom though – I currently have more respect for Moira than I’ve had for my mom in the past 12 months.

* Layla: I’d appreciate that. See you a bit later. *

* Moira: I’ll have hot cocoa and mini marshmallows ready when you get back winky emoji *