Filed to story: Seventeen Heartbreaks: When Love Has No Voice
“I’m not worried about him being mad at me. I’m worried he’ll take it out on you or-worse-send you away. Mom, you’re safest here. And honestly, I don’t need his love. I just need you.”
Sophie’s words were followed by a heartfelt embrace, her small frame clinging tightly to Leila.
Leila’s heart softened, a mix of amusement and affection flickering in her eyes. Had Sophie always been so clingy? It was a reflection of the care she’d poured into her children, a testament to their bond.
Leila thought briefly about lifting Sophie into her arms, the way she used to when Sophie was smaller. But Sophie was no longer the little girl who fit snugly against her hip.
Leila felt a pang of longing tug at her heart as she watched Sophie. Memories-fragmented and elusive-beckoned her, and she yearned to retrieve them, even if they were tinged with pain. The thought of missing out on the tender moments of her children’s lives felt like a loss too great to bear.
Leila reached out and squeezed Sophie’s rosy cheek gently. Her voice carried a playful lilt, though an undercurrent of longing softened her words.
“Sophie, can you tell me more about your childhood? I want to know everything.”
Sophie’s eyes lit up like a thousand tiny stars, her radiant smile spreading warmth.
“Really? Of course, Mom. I’d love to.” Their voices danced together as they walked away, hands clasped tightly. Each laugh and shared memory wove a comforting cocoon around them.
Meanwhile, Lacey sat slumped on the cold floor, her arm smeared with drying blood. She looked around, her eyes catching the indifferent stares of the household staff. Not one stepped forward to assist her. Not one.
With trembling limbs, Lacey forced herself upright, her movements clumsy and painful. The bitterness in her heart spilled out in a sharp, venomous shout.
“What the hell are you staring at? Get back to work!”
The servants exchanged looks, their expressions a mix of amusement, before they turned and walked away.
Lacey’s chest rose and fell, her anger crackling like an exposed wire. To her, these servants were nothing but a bunch of fools. She wasn’t here to wallow in pity or sow discord between Landon and Sophie.
When her rage simmered down, a slow, malevolent smile stretched across Lacey’s lips. They would soon learn the consequences of crossing her. Leila. Those insufferable kids. Every last one of them.
That evening, Lacey arrived at dinner, her right hand heavily swathed in bandages. The injury was impossible to miss.
Noting Lacey’s bandage, Landon frowned. He couldn’t afford to dismiss it-not when Elma’s recovery depended on Lacey’s skilled hands.
“What happened?”
Sophie, seated nearby, froze mid-bite, a wave of unease coursing through her.
Lacey glanced down, her demeanor suddenly meek, as if weighed down by her own admission.
“I had a little accident today,” she murmured, her tone carefully measured.
“I hurt my hand pretty badly. I won’t be able to do much for Elma-no injections, no treatments-for the next few days.” Landon’s brow furrowed deeper.
Leila was caught off guard. She had expected her threats to rattle Lacey, but not to the extent that Lacey would take full responsibility without a fight. A sarcastic quip? A veiled jab to pull Sophie into the mess? That was more in line with what Leila anticipated. But this meek demeanor? It gnawed at Leila, leaving a prickling unease she couldn’t quite shake.
Landon sighed as he processed Lacey’s explanation.
“How long until your hand heals?” he asked, his tone practical, almost clinical.
“If you need time to recover, I can arrange for a few days off. But Elma’s health can’t wait, so I’ll need to find someone else to step in.”
The words were reasonable, but the undertone was unmistakable: Lacey was replaceable.
The casual detachment in Landon’s response stung more than the pain in Lacey’s hand.
Lacey forced herself to swallow the bitter lump rising in her throat. She had anticipated Landon’s indifference but hadn’t expected such coldness, not even a word of concern. His first thought was Elma’s treatment. He was like an emotionless automaton, utterly devoid of warmth and emotion. No. He wasn’t emotionless. She knew that. He had warmth and compassion, but it was reserved for others, never for her. The realization twisted the knife already lodged in her heart, but Lacey refused to flinch. She couldn’t afford to show weakness now. Whatever heartbreak and frustration churned inside her,
She buried it deep. Her goal loomed larger than her pain. That was what mattered most.
Lacey forced a soft, composed smile.
“Mr. Kensington, there’s no need to worry. Even with my hand injured, I’ve already come up with a solution to ensure Elma’s treatment won’t be interrupted.”
Landon’s brow eased, though his eyes remained sharp.
“Let’s hear it.”
Without hesitation, Lacey produced a neatly arranged stack of documents. She laid them on the table with practiced precision, her voice steady.
“This is information about my mentor. Years ago, when I fled home with Jeanette, he took us in and became my mentor. He’s the one who taught me medicine from the ground up.”
She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing.
“Though he left on an extended journey a few years ago, he recently returned. I only received word of his arrival now. His methods may seem unconventional, but his reputation within the medical community is impeccable.”
Landon’s expression didn’t soften, but Lacey could see him weighing her words carefully.
“If you’re skeptical, Mr. Kensington, feel free to verify everything. The details are all here,” Lacey added, tapping the documents lightly.
Landon glanced through the paperwork, his unease still visible.
“And you’re confident he can treat Elma’s condition?”
Lacey’s smile widened, laced with quiet assurance.
“Absolutely. In fact, some of the treatments I’ve implemented for Elma were his suggestions. We’ve been in contact recently, discussing her case in depth.”
Her tone shifted slightly, softening.
“I didn’t invite him here initially because he’s retired and deserves to enjoy his time at home. But if you believe he could help further, I can reach out to him directly.”
Landon nodded slowly, his mind churning as he sifted through the information. For the first time in days, a flicker of hope had lit his eyes. The thought of Elma healthy and carefree, running and laughing with other children, felt almost tangible.
Yet, Landon’s practicality grounded him.
“I’ll consider it,” he said, his tone measured.
Lacey expected no less. She’d grown accustomed to Landon’s cautious nature, knowing he’d conduct his own investigation. If he’d agreed too quickly, it would have been out of character-and, perhaps, even suspicious. But none of that mattered. She’d planted the seed. All she had to do now was wait. Soon enough, Landon would realize there was no viable option left but to rely on her mentor.
From her seat, Leila studied Lacey with narrowed eyes, catching what looked like a fleeting smirk ghosting across Lacey’s lips. It was so brief that she almost doubted she’d seen it at all.
Frowning, Leila’s instincts buzzed with unease. Something about this felt off, and the pieces refused to align. If this was some elaborate scheme of Lacey’s, what about the earlier fall? Sophie had shoved Lacey, leading to the latter’s fall with the shards. Was it all coincidence? Or was Lacey just that calculating? Lacey’s recommendation of her mentor seemed innocent enough. After all, it was a logical step to keep herself involved in Landon’s life. If she hadn’t suggested her mentor, Landon would have sought another doctor.
With Landon’s response in hand, Lacey made her exit.
As Lacey stepped out of sight, her composed mask fell away, replaced by a smug grin. Elma’s health-her treatment, her condition-was now firmly in her grasp. She couldn’t cure Elma’s illness. What she could do, however, was create the illusion of progress, a feat no other doctor could manage convincingly. Landon’s lack of immediate refusal meant her plan was more than halfway realized. Now, it was only a matter of time.
As Lacey walked away, Leila’s threats from earlier flashed in her mind, reigniting her simmering fury. Soon, all debts would be paid. Every slight, every threat.
The next day, Leila did something uncharacteristic-she sought out Landon. Trailing behind him, she hesitated, her thoughts tangled as she tried to find the right words.
Landon, however, was in no mood to slow down, his brisk pace making it hard for her to keep up.
Suddenly, Landon stopped short. Leila, too distracted to notice, walked straight into him.
“Ow!” she yelped, clutching her nose as the sting brought a grimace to her face.
Landon turned, his expression shifting slightly at the sight of her discomfort. For a fleeting moment, concern flickered in his eyes, but it was quickly masked. Clearing his throat, he asked, “Why are you following me?”
Leila rubbed her nose, shooting him a half-annoyed, half-embarrassed glare.
“Obviously, I have something to tell you.”
Landon raised an eyebrow, his tone laced with faint amusement.