Filed to story: Seventeen Heartbreaks: When Love Has No Voice
Clayton’s eyes widened, feigned disbelief etched across his face.
“They went to such extreme lengths to get to Neal? Leila, whoever’s behind this is powerful and dangerous.
We can’t just brush this off.
We need to involve the authorities.”
Leila let out a weary sigh, the weight of exhaustion evident in her voice.
“If the police could help, I’d have already reported it.
But it’s not that simple.” She rose and lifted her chin, determination replacing her fatigue.
“Finding Elma comes first.”
“Leila,” Clayton called after her, his voice softened by a mixture of mock concern and sorrow.
His gaze searched hers, conflicted.
“If you ever find Neal, promise me you’ll dig for the truth.
There has to be more to this.
I can’t bring myself to believe he’s become someone so heartless.”
Leila fell silent, her eyes downcast, lost in thought.
A heavy silence hung between them as she nodded absentmindedly, her focus already elsewhere.
Without another word, she turned and walked away.
Leila didn’t say much more, departing swiftly with her team.
Once she was gone, the butler turned to Clayton, his expression puzzled.
“Mr. Morgan, why did you defend that fool Neal? Didn’t vouching for him make it seem like we’re connected to him?”
Clayton’s lips curled into a cold smile.
“Leila is no fool.
Even as she revealed the truth just now, she was testing me.
Everyone knows how much I valued Neal back then.
If I’d turned on him too quickly, it would have looked forced, like an act.” He paused, his eyes narrowing.
“Trust me.
I have my reasons for doing this.
Just make sure to keep a close eye on Neal.”
The butler nodded, a smile of admiration spreading across his face.
“Mr. Morgan, your strategy is flawless.
Miss Nixon won’t suspect a thing.”
Meanwhile, on her way back, Leila rubbed her aching temples, replaying Clayton’s every word and reaction in her mind.
Nothing had seemed off.
Had Clayton pushed for Neal to be harshly punished, she would have suspected Clayton’s involvement.
But he hadn’t.
His demeanor had been calm and composed, as if he genuinely had no knowledge of the tangled web of deceit.
Leila sighed.
Could she have been wrong about Clayton? If he truly had no part in this, then where on earth was Elma?
The uncertainty gnawed at Leila, filling her chest with a suffocating dread.
If not for her two other children waiting at home, she would have scoured every corner of the city until she found Elma.
Reluctantly, Leila returned home, her heart heavy with worry.
But when she stepped through the door, a surprising sight greeted her.
Brysen, who had always kept to herself and acted out in distress, was sitting quietly with Sophie and Calvin.
She wasn’t withdrawn or resistant.
Instead, she offered them a small, genuine smile as they played nearby.
A servant approached, sharing some good news.
Brysen had eaten well today and seemed livelier, her spirit showing faint signs of revival.
Relief washed over Leila, and for the first time in days, a genuine smile broke through her worry.
She sat beside Brysen, gently patting her head.
“Don’t worry,” Leila whispered, her voice filled with quiet determination.
“As long as I’m here, I’ll never let anyone hurt you.
I’ll protect all of you, I promise.”
Brysen turned her gaze to Leila, and in a tender, unexpected moment, she lifted a flower crown she had made and placed it gently on Leila’s head.
Leila’s eyes widened with surprise and joy, her heart soaring.
“Brysen, you understand me, don’t you?” she asked, her voice trembling with hope.
But Brysen’s expression shifted, her face clouded with confusion.
Leila’s excitement dimmed, the spark of hope flickering out.
A doctor had once warned Leila that Brysen’s condition was fragile.
The years of suffering had taken a brutal toll on Brysen, both mentally and physically.
The trauma Brysen had endured left deep scars, and the doctor had stressed that any emotional upheaval could have devastating consequences.
Even the risk of Brysen harming herself was a grim reality they had to be cautious about.
Healing had to be a slow, careful process.
Leila gently squeezed Brysen’s hand, an overwhelming wave of sadness pressing against her chest.
“It’s okay,” she whispered.