Not your daughter anymore

Layla glanced at Roderick's message briefly before deciding to ignore it. Without a second thought, she blocked his number. "You'll only see me when it causes you pain," she muttered under her breath, tossing the phone onto the bed with a sharp flick of her wrist. She then turned her attention to the closet, pulling out a dress for the evening.

After slipping into the dress, Layla styled her hair, gathering some of the strands at the back with pins, while leaving the rest of her soft curls to cascade down her shoulders. 

Placing the comb neatly on the dressing table, she slipped into matching heels and grabbed a coordinating clutch, the elegance of her ensemble exuding confidence.

As she descended the stairs, Layla's eyes fell on Roger, waiting patiently near the doorway.

"Good evening, Madam. I'll be taking you to the hotel. The boss won't be able to make it home and will meet you directly at the restaurant," Roger said in his usual respectful tone.

"I understand," Layla replied, stepping forward to leave. Just as she reached the door, her steps faltered when she saw her mother approaching from the hallway. 

For a moment, Layla believed her mother had come to see her, but the comforting thought was quickly shattered. 

Without warning, Seraphina raised her hand and struck Layla across the face, the sound of the slap reverberating through the room. 

Roger instantly stepped forward, positioning himself between Layla and Seraphina as the older woman raised her hand again, ready to strike. His protective stance was firm, shielding Layla from further harm.

"How dare you lie about Roderick?" Seraphina screamed, her voice filled with rage. "I told you to let us live in peace!"

Roger discreetly signaled the guards, who swiftly appeared. They grabbed Seraphina's arms, restraining her before she could lash out again.

"Let me go!" Seraphina yelled, struggling against their hold, her voice echoing through the hallway. "I'm her mother. You can't use force on me like this," she stated. 

Layla's glare burned into her mother, the sting of betrayal deep in her chest. "Why do you hate me so much? You believe Orabela's lies and rush here to confront me? Have you lost all shame, living as Darius Rosenzweig's mistress?" 

Roger quickly pulled out his phone to contact Lucius.

Seraphina's face twisted in fury as her daughter's words sank in. "What did you just say?" she hissed in her dangerous tone. "How dare you—"

"Shut up!" Layla screamed, her voice cracking through the air like a whip. Seraphina's eyes widened, shocked at her daughter's defiance. Layla had never spoken to her this way before. "I'm not your daughter anymore," Layla continued, her voice cold and sharp. "I am Layla Lucius De Salvo now. So, you better show some respect when you talk to me. You raised your hand on Lucius De Salvo's wife, and I swear, Orabela will pay for this. You love her more than me, don't you? I'll make her life a living hell. And yours, too."

"Layla, you—" Seraphina tried to speak, but her voice was drowned by the command that followed.

"Throw her out of this mansion!" Layla ordered the guards, not sparing her mother another glance. "No one lets her back in, or they'll deal with me."

"Layla! Layla!" Seraphina's voice echoed through the hall as the guards dragged her out, but Layla didn't stop walking until she reached the foyer, where a black Porsche awaited her. The driver swiftly opened the door, and she slid inside. Her entire body was trembling, but she composed herself.

Tears welled in Layla's eyes, but she quickly wiped them away. In the front seat, Roger glanced at her through the rearview mirror, his face showing quiet concern.

As the car pulled away, Layla saw her mother being pushed down the stairs, landing on the ground with a humiliating thud. Though part of her recoiled at the sight of her mother being treated this way, she knew Seraphina deserved it. Time and again, her mother had chosen Orabela's lies over her own daughter's truth.

Seraphina scrambled to her feet and ran toward the car, but Layla coldly ordered the driver, "Drive." The car sped off, leaving her mother's desperate cries behind.

"I'll inform Boss about this," Roger said softly, breaking the silence.

"There's no need. This isn't his burden to carry," Layla responded firmly, wiping the remnants of tears from her face as she braced herself for what was to come.

Soon, they arrived at the elegant French restaurant, Le Château d'Or. Layla stepped out of the car with grace, her heels clicking on the pavement. Roger followed behind her as they were greeted by the manager, who smiled warmly.

Layla returned the smile briefly before being escorted to a private dining room on the second floor. Once inside the elevator, she felt a moment of solitude, her thoughts racing as she prepared to face her husband.

When the elevator doors opened, Layla stepped out into the quiet, expansive floor. There was only one person there—Lucius. He stood at the far end of the room, waiting for her.  

Layla never thought she would end up running to him, and hug him tightly as if he was the only man in this world who could understand her. 

Lucius, who was mesmerized to see Layla in the off-white dress, got shocked the moment she ran to him and hugged him tightly. She had thought she would fight alone with this feeling, and not let Lucius find out, but at that moment, she wanted to cry in his arms. 

"Layla," Lucius whispered her name and heard her sobs. "Why are you crying?" He brought her hands to her shoulders to push her away. 

"Please… let me be like this," Layla requested while continuously sobbing. Moments later, she herself pulled away and looked into his eyes with teary eyes. "You will always believe me, won't you?" She asked. 

"You know the answer," Lucius said. "But why are you crying? Who the fuck made you cry? Tell me! I'm going to kill that person for you," he sternly said, not able to suppress the growling sound that came with it.