Filed to story: Seventeen Heartbreaks: When Love Has No Voice
Disheartened, Leila moved forward, almost mechanically, toward the body. But before she could get too close, a police officer stopped her. “Miss, I understand your feelings, but you cannot disturb the crime scene. Please, let us do our work.”
At that moment, a forensic expert gave an update on the body’s condition. “There’s a chest wound and other injuries likely caused by debris in the underground river, which could explain the disfigurement.”
Leila barely registered the words. A persistent buzz filled her head, drowning out everything else.
She was in disbelief, unable to accept the grim reality of Landon’s death. “That… That isn’t Landon,” she stammered, her voice filled with agony.
She repeated the words, her voice shaking. “That can’t possibly be Landon.”
Clayton looked at her with a sorrowful expression. “Leila, we need to go back. The police are handling it. They’ll figure things out.”
“No, this isn’t him. I won’t stop until I find the real Landon.” Tears streamed down Leila’s face as she shook her head firmly. How could life be so cruel? Could Landon truly have died like this?
Deep down, a voice screamed at Leila that the body before her wasn’t Landon. However, the undeniable evidence pushed her toward a reluctant acceptance. Her grief was overwhelming, almost suffocating. Thankfully, she had left the children at home. The sight of the body would have shattered their hearts even more.
“Leila.” Clayton’s voice was heavy with emotion, his eyes filled with tears. “It’s time to face reality. If this man isn’t Landon, then who is he? Can you really let this shadow haunt you forever?”
Leila didn’t respond to Clayton. Instead, she staggered away in her high heels, muttering to herself, “I need to find Landon. I have to find him.”
Clayton quickly caught up to her, grabbing her wrist in an attempt to stop her.
Whirling around, Leila slapped Clayton fiercely across the face. Her eyes burned with hatred.
Leila’s emotions surged uncontrollably, and she couldn’t bring herself to forgive Clayton. After all, Landon’s death was on Clayton and Cara.
However, as the sting of her slap settled, regret quickly followed. Clayton had once saved her life. Perhaps, in reality, it was she who was at fault. Had she not been taken by the Perry family years ago, maybe none of this tragedy would have occurred. It was all her fault. Landon’s death was on her.
Overcome by this realization, Leila was consumed by grief and wept bitterly. Despite the bright sunshine, a chill of despair enveloped her.
In an instant, Leila’s world tilted violently, Clayton’s face dissolving into a blur.
Just as darkness closed in, Leila heard the frantic edge in Clayton’s voice, trembling as he called out to her, “Leila? Leila, can you hear me?”
Her body went limp, and she slipped into unconsciousness. Without hesitation, Clayton scooped her up, holding her tightly in his arms as he sprinted forward. His voice broke with panic. “Doctor! Where’s the doctor?”
Clayton’s desperation, raw and palpable, made it clear nothing mattered more than Leila’s well-being.
Lacey stood off to the side, quietly observing. She let out a soft breath, her gaze shifting to the lifeless body nearby. Of course, it wasn’t Landon.
Lacey’s mind reeled. How could Leila not realize that the body wasn’t Landon, her own husband? It didn’t make sense.
But what disturbed Lacey more was Clayton’s tenderness toward Leila. The way he held her and his panic suggested something more between them. Something deliberate. The recent scene felt like a carefully staged performance. A body, resembling Landon, had been strategically placed to mislead everyone.
The more Lacey dwelled on it, the colder her heart grew. Anger simmered beneath her skin. How could someone like Leila deserve Landon’s love? After all the pain Leila had caused him, how could he still be drawn to her? Yet, the moment Landon woke, he wanted nothing more than to run back to Leila without a second thought.
Lacey clenched her fists, remembering the small dose she had slipped into Landon’s food earlier. He was in a deep sleep now, unaware of the chaos unfolding. For now, at least, he was safe. It seemed Clayton and Leila wouldn’t be returning anytime soon.
As Lacey walked away, a strange sensation washed over her. She told herself she should repay Landon for protecting her and Jeanette, but deep down, she knew it was more than that. She was falling for him.
Lacey inhaled deeply, grounding herself in the truth she couldn’t ignore. She shouldn’t fall for Landon. He had a wife and kids. Even if she felt Leila didn’t deserve Landon, he still had a family.
Pushing her swirling emotions aside, Lacey felt a strange relief, as if the weight had momentarily lifted.
When Lacey arrived home, Jeanette appeared, her voice soft but urgent. “Lacey, don’t worry. Landon’s been asleep the whole time. He hasn’t woken up.”
“Good job, Jeanette,” Lacey murmured, gently ruffling the little one’s hair.
Suddenly, a thought struck Lacey, and she crouched down to meet Jeanette’s eyes, her expression serious. “Listen carefully, Jeanette. Landon can never know what happened today. If he finds out, he’ll be upset with both of us. He might leave and never come back.”
Jeanette’s eyes widened. “I don’t want Landon to leave us. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
Lacey smiled and kissed her on the forehead. “That’s my girl. Now, go on and play. I’ll be here.”
Meanwhile, in Burmoos, Leila stirred awake, the sterile scent of the hospital filling her senses. Her face was damp, and as she wiped away the lingering tears, she realized she had been crying even while unconscious. Was Landon really gone? She couldn’t bring herself to believe it, but her mind was a haze of confusion and grief. No matter how hard she searched her thoughts, there was nothing to prove that Landon was still alive.
Her voice trembled as she tried to whisper the truth she dreaded: that he was really gone. But the words caught in Leila’s throat, each one feeling heavier than the last. In the end, all she could manage was a fragile whisper of his name. “Landon…”
Her resolve shattered. Hugging her knees to her chest, she broke down, sobbing into the darkness.
The night passed in a fog of grief. By morning, Leila had regained some composure. She looked better, though the pale exhaustion on her face lingered as she forced herself to stand.
Clayton arrived and froze at the sight of her. “Leila,” he said softly, concern etched in his features. “The doctor said you need rest. You didn’t sleep, did you?”
Avoiding his worried gaze, Leila turned her face away, not wanting him to see her in such a vulnerable state. But her hoarse voice betrayed her. “Clayton… Have the police found anything?”
She still clung to a fragile thread of hope. She had sent her children’s DNA to the police, expecting an official result, hoping maybe the body wasn’t Landon’s. Without a word, Clayton handed her a sealed document. “I haven’t read it,” he murmured. “You should see it first.”
Leila’s hands shook as she took the folder, her heart racing. Slowly, she peeled it open.
The words struck her like a hammer. The deceased had been identified as Landon Kensington.
Unlike yesterday, there were no frantic cries. Leila sat frozen, clutching the paper, her grip so tight that her knuckles turned white.
Clayton watched her closely. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face, but his voice remained soft, almost disbelieving. “Leila, it’s not Landon, is it?”
After what felt like an eternity, Leila found her voice. It came out bitter and broken. “It’s him. The dead man… It’s Landon.”
Clayton’s eyes widened in feigned shock. “How is that possible?”
Leila, unable to hold it in any longer, crumpled the paper and tossed it into the trash.
Clayton’s voice was gentle but probing. “Now that Landon’s body has been found, it’s best to give him a proper funeral. Leila, take a few days to rest. I can handle all the arrangements.”
Leila shut her eyes, her emotions in turmoil. “No funeral,” she muttered, her voice strained. “He hated crowds when he was alive. He wouldn’t want any fuss after he’s gone.” She paused, breathing heavily. “I need to be alone, Clayton. Please leave.”
Clayton hesitated, watching her for a moment longer, then nodded silently and left the room.
Once Clayton stepped out, his face clouded with frustration. His assistant, sensing the tension, hurried to his side.
The assistant whispered nervously, “Mr. Morgan, does she suspect anything?”
Clayton’s expression tightened, but he shook his head. “No. If she had figured it out, I wouldn’t have walked out so peacefully.”
Then, Clayton’s voice grew bitter, almost incredulous. “What surprises me is how much she loved him. What did Landon have that made him so unforgettable to her?” Clayton’s jaw clenched, his anger barely concealed.
The assistant, taken aback, frowned in confusion. “But didn’t Miss Nixon say she didn’t want a funeral? Doesn’t that mean she’s indifferent to his death? Maybe she collapsed yesterday just to put on a show to others.”
Clayton let out a cold laugh, his face darkening with frustration. “You’re such an idiot. You know nothing. The more she acts like that, the more it means she can’t let him go.”
A shadow of sadness passed over Clayton’s face. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, he could never win Leila’s love. If he was going to have any chance, he needed another plan, a different approach.
Clayton gave his assistant a pat on the shoulder, his voice calmer now. “You did well this time. Now, I have another task for you.”
The assistant nodded eagerly. “Don’t worry, Mr. Morgan. Whatever it is, I’ll handle it.”
Elsewhere, Landon stirred awake, the morning light filtering into the room. His head throbbed, and a wave of dizziness hit him as he struggled to make sense of time. How long had he been out?
Landon pieced together the fragments of memory. He had fallen asleep yesterday morning and hadn’t woken up until now. That wasn’t normal.
Landon frowned, recalling how odd he’d felt after breakfast, woozy and disoriented. Could there have been something in his food? But it didn’t make sense. Would Lacey really do something to harm him?
As he pondered the possibilities, Lacey walked in. She immediately sensed the suspicion and coldness in Landon’s expression.
“Mr. Kensington.” Lacey’s heart jumped in her chest, her pulse quickening. She suddenly felt flustered. “You’re awake. Are you still feeling unwell?”