Filed to story: Seventeen Heartbreaks: When Love Has No Voice
‘I don’t know,’ Leila replied, her voice shaking as if caught in a storm.
Neal’s face drained of colour, his eyes reddened with mock despair. He knelt before Clayton, his vulnerability evident in every line of his face.
‘Mr. Morgan, please send someone to get her. I love her deeply and I want to be with her. We’ve even planned to get married. It has to be right.’
With that, Neal buried his face in his hands, his sobs echoing in the tense silence that surrounded them.
Leila blinked, her heart aching at the sight of Neal. He seemed to care about Brysen in a deep way, which set off a spiral of complicated emotions inside her. Maybe she was overthinking everything.
Clayton ignored Neal’s emotional display, focusing his attention on Leila and offering her support.
‘Your hands are so cold,’ he commented, brow furrowed in concern. ‘You’ve tried too hard today. Leave the rest in my hands. I’ll take care of everything.’
Leila shook her head, determination sparking inside her.
‘No, I need to see Brysen safe and sound. Until I know he’s okay, I won’t have peace of mind.’
Clayton nodded with understanding.
‘I understand. She’s your assistant and you care. I’ll reach out to my contacts and do everything in my power to find her. If the police are willing to help, everything will be easier.’
‘But first, you need to go back and rest.’
Leila felt the weight of his words, nodding.
Before she left, she glanced at Neal, who was still crying. She sighed softly to herself. If Neal’s love for Brysen was genuine, it would be a real shame. Leila hoped Brysen was safe. Although Leila was upset with Brysen for revealing his itinerary to Clayton, she didn’t want anything bad to happen to him.
Brysen had worked for her for so long.
After Leila left, Clayton approached Neal, a smirk on his face. He kicked him lightly, laughing as he said, ‘Stop the theatrics. She’s already gone.’
Neal tilted his head back, his expression eerily calm, a cryptic grin playing on his lips. He turned toward Clayton, his eyes wide with anticipation, as if desperately seeking a nod of affirmation.
“So, Mr. Morgan, how did I perform? My acting wasn’t too shabby, was it?”
Clayton, visibly impressed, responded with a firm nod.
“Excellent. You’re astute and adaptable. Continue to excel like this, and you’ll find yourself well-compensated.”
Thrilled by the acknowledgment, Neal jumped to his feet, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as he stood attentively by Clayton’s side.
“By the way, Mr. Morgan, I’ve handled Brysen. She won’t be a problem any longer. I’ve ensured she’s completely under control.”
Clayton’s eyebrows arched, his interest clearly piqued.
“Is that so? What tactics did you employ?”
Neal flashed a sly, secretive smile.
“Come with me, Mr. Morgan, and I’ll show you exactly what I mean.”
Led by Neal, Clayton followed to a desolate factory at the town’s fringe. Upon opening the door, the dismal sight of Brysen met them. Clayton instinctively grimaced, his hand flying to cover his nose, his eyes widening in astonishment.
“Brysen, with her gentle demeanor and striking features… Did you ever hesitate to treat her so harshly?”
Neal affirmed his commitment with fiery determination.
“My commitment is to you, Mr. Morgan.”
“In this game, women are mere pawns. Besides, she was a hindrance to your schemes. That she is still alive is already showing mercy.”
His voice was steeped in venom, the softness he once held for Brysen now replaced with bitter disdain.
As they left the desolate factory, Clayton’s chuckle echoed faintly, dark and approving.
“Your merciless nature will serve us well. Keep it up.”
Neal responded with an enthusiastic nod, his eyes alight with thrill.
After Leila returned, she endured a long, sleepless night. As the hours ticked by and the 24-hour mark approached, her resolve hardened, and she decided it was time to involve the police.
Throughout this tense period, her team had scoured the county. Yet, despite the relatively small area, there remained no trace of Brysen. Clayton had suggested they escalate the matter to the county chief, but Leila had firmly refused. She was committed to her role in poverty alleviation and improving the lives of local children. She didn’t want to burden others with a personal issue.
Just as Leila was about to dial the police, Clayton appeared at her door, his face etched with deep lines of distress and his posture slumped from the weight of bad news. The air seemed to thicken with his somber energy as he stepped inside. Leila’s stomach churned with unease at this sight.
She blurted out, “Did you find Brysen?”
Clayton gave a slow, heavy nod.
“Yes,” he replied, his voice a low rumble of solemnity.
Leila’s heart skipped a beat, her voice barely a whisper.
“Please tell me Brysen hasn’t really gone…”
Clayton sighed, his gaze steady as he shook his head slowly.
“No, Brysen’s alive,” he assured Leila.
“She’s safe for now, and there’s no immediate threat to her life.”
“It is a comfort, knowing Brysen has survived,” Leila whispered reassurances to herself, yet a shadow of unease clung to her. At the sight of Clayton’s grim expression, it was clear that something dreadful had befallen Brysen.
Leila pressed Clayton for details, but he remained silent. At last, Clayton let out a heavy sigh.
“I’ll drive you to the hospital to see her, but you must brace yourself and manage your emotions. It’s crucial to remain composed, no matter what you see.”
With a heavy heart, Leila nodded solemnly and settled into the passenger seat of Clayton’s car, her anxiety mounting with each mile. As they drove, Leila’s mind conjured up a myriad of dire scenarios, yet none could match the harsh reality of Brysen’s condition.
Covered in bruises, Brysen’s face was marred by scratches, transforming her once delicate features into a jarring, almost unrecognizable state. At the sight of anyone, Brysen would erupt into screams and tears, her voice lost to her trauma.
For Leila, Brysen was more than a subordinate. She was like family, a sister in all but blood. The sight of Brysen suffering shattered Leila’s heart.
Gently, Leila took Brysen’s hand, her voice soft and soothing.
“Brysen,” she murmured, trying to pierce the veil of Brysen’s pain.
“It’s okay. It’s me. I’m here. You’re not alone.”
But Brysen’s reaction was visceral, her body wracked with sobs and shakes.
An IV was taped to Brysen’s wrist, and fearing Brysen would disrupt it and worsen her condition, Leila held Brysen’s hand firmly yet tenderly, her other hand stroking Brysen’s arm in an attempt to comfort her.
“Shh, don’t cry, Brysen. Stay still, sweetheart. We’re safe now. It’s me. I’m right here with you.”
But as Leila’s grip tightened in a protective embrace, Brysen, caught in a haze of fear, bit down hard on Leila’s hand in a desperate bid for release. Leila flinched from the sting, but her grip remained firm.
Clayton had just arrived on the scene, his gaze hardening as he witnessed Brysen’s attack. Anger flashed across his features as he swiftly moved to intervene, shoving Brysen back with a firm push.
At that moment, a flurry of medical personnel swept into the room, swiftly restraining Brysen and injecting a sedative into her trembling arm.
Leila watched, tears streaming down her face as Brysen’s expression twisted into one of pain and fear.
Clayton wrapped an arm around Leila, his voice laced with deep concern.