Filed to story: Seventeen Heartbreaks: When Love Has No Voice
Clayton’s laugh was low and strange, more a hum of satisfaction than mirth. His eyes gleamed with a dangerous anticipation.
“I’m actually hoping he causes trouble. Let him come. Don’t fret. He won’t kill me. His temper is predictable, but his hands are tied.”
As soon as those words left his lips, the door was kicked open with a deafening crash.
Landon stepped into the room slowly, each tap of his expensive shoes echoing against the cold floor. The sound sent a shiver through the still air, sharp and deliberate.
Landon’s strikingly handsome face betrayed no emotion. Only his icy glare spoke volumes. If his gaze had the power to kill, Clayton would have been nothing but ashes by now.
Landon’s eyes locked on Clayton, who lounged in his chair with infuriating ease. A wave of anger churned within Landon, but he kept his voice steady.
“Mr. Morgan, life seems to be treating you well these days.” Landon lowered himself onto the sofa, his movements calculated, and cast a disdainful glance in Clayton’s direction.
Clayton answered with a faint smile, his nonchalance almost mocking. He made a small gesture, and the butler hurried to pour Landon a drink. Landon studied the glass of wine as though it were a weapon. He didn’t reach for it.
Clayton’s tone was casual, but there was a hint of provocation beneath his words.
“What’s wrong? Do you think I’ve tampered with it?”
Landon’s smirk was cold and sharp.
“My suspicion is only because you’ve done it before.”
His words were a subtle yet cutting reminder of the time Clayton had poisoned him. The memory was as fresh as a reopened wound.
Clayton tilted his head slightly and sighed, though there was no sincerity in the gesture.
“Mr. Kensington, you’ve got the wrong idea. Sure, I might’ve entertained the thought once.”
Clayton paused, letting the silence thicken like fog before continuing, “But I realized that such a tactic is beneath me. Killing you wouldn’t solve anything. You have children in this world, don’t you? Even if they aren’t close to you, they carry your blood. If I were to harm you, who’s to say they wouldn’t come for me someday? So, I’ve decided to end this game properly.”
As Clayton’s words hung in the air, his gaze turned razor-sharp, his malice undisguised. There was a cruel edge to his smirk, a silent dare that stung like an open wound.
The sound of shattering glass snapped through the tension. Landon crushed the wine glass in his hand, letting the shards fall to the floor. Rising from his seat, he fixed Clayton with a glare so cold it could freeze fire.
“Clayton, you’re walking a very dangerous path,” he said, his voice low and steady.
When Leila received the butler’s call, skepticism flickered across her face.
“Are you sure you’re not joking?” she asked, her voice laced with doubt.
The butler’s voice carried an edge of urgency.
“Miss Nixon, I know Mr. Morgan has lied to you before, but this isn’t something he’d make up. Not about this.”
The butler pressed on, desperation creeping into his tone.
“Even if you don’t like him anymore, you owe it to yourself to at least come. He once saved your life. Doesn’t that mean anything? Mr. Morgan brought a whole group with him, and you know how fragile his health is. If things go badly, Mr. Morgan could end up seriously hurt-or worse.”
Leila pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to ease the tension building there. She let out a slow sigh. To be fair, she had no desire to get involved in the drama between Landon and Clayton. Still, she couldn’t shake the question nagging at her: why was Landon so hell-bent on causing trouble for Clayton?
But the butler wouldn’t have the answers she needed. She knew that much. With a reluctant shake of her head, she grabbed her keys and headed for the Morgan estate.
The butler stood rooted at the gate, Clayton’s anguished cries echoing in the house and piercing the still night. His hands trembled as he clasped them together, whispering a desperate prayer, “Please, Miss Nixon. Get here soon.”
When Leila finally pulled up to the estate, the butler rushed to meet her. Relief was written all over his face, and tears glimmered in his eyes as he said, “Miss Nixon, thank goodness you’re finally here. Please, go inside and see Mr. Morgan.”
Leila’s gaze shifted to the mansion’s heavy doors, shut tightly against the night. A cluster of bodyguards loomed nearby like silent sentinels. The sight made her temples throb anew.
“They might not let me in,” she said, more to herself than anyone else.
But Leila wasn’t about to turn back now. Straightening her shoulders, she approached the bodyguards. Her voice was firm as she said, “Tell Clayton I’m here. I need to see him.”
The bodyguards exchanged a brief, uncertain glance. Recognition flickered in their eyes. After a moment, one of them slipped inside, leaving the others to stand watch.
When the door opened, a metallic tang hit Leila’s nose. Blood. The air inside reeked of it. Her stomach twisted, and she frowned, uneasy. Something about the scene felt wrong, though she couldn’t explain why.
She tried to steel herself. Clayton had once risked everything to save her. She couldn’t ignore that, even if it meant walking into whatever mess this was. Clayton’s heart was…
Already weak, she couldn’t bear the thought of it failing him now. If Landon had gone too far, his actions could have turned deadly for Clayton.
Leila’s mind churned as she tried to understand what could’ve driven Landon to act so recklessly. It was so unlike him.
Leila lowered her head, lost in thought, her brow furrowed in silent frustration.
The bodyguard who had disappeared moments earlier reappeared at the doorway.
“Mrs. Kensington, please come in,” he said, gesturing toward the open door.
Hearing the title “Mrs. Kensington” sent a ripple through Leila’s emotions, though she hid it well. A flicker of confusion and bitterness danced in her eyes. Did Landon order that? What game was he playing now? Steeling herself, Leila stepped inside. Her gaze immediately fell on Clayton, sprawled on the floor in a pool of blood. Her breath caught, and her pupils constricted in alarm. She quickened her pace without thinking, her heels clicking sharply against the floor.
But before she could reach Clayton, Landon’s men moved to block her path. She froze, fists clenching at her sides, as she heard the heavy tread of approaching footsteps.
Landon’s voice came from behind her, cold and dripping with resentment.
“Are you really that worried about him?”
Leila spun around, her eyes narrowing as they landed on Landon. His face bore fresh cuts and bruises, evidence of a fight. It seemed they had fought. Clayton was no match for Landon’s strength.
Her emotions were a tangled mess-frustration, concern, anger-but she shoved them aside, masking everything with a cool expression.
“Let me check on him,” she said firmly, her voice steady.
Landon’s lips curled into a smirk as he lit a cigarette, the glow from the flame briefly illuminating the hard edge of his eyes. His voice dropped a notch, colder now.
“You still haven’t answered my question.”
Leila’s patience frayed as she met his gaze, her tone sharp and unwavering.
“This has nothing to do with you. Right now, the priority is getting him to a hospital.”
Landon felt a dull ache in his chest at the way Leila addressed him. Her cold demeanor cut deeper than he expected. His voice wavered slightly, tinged with bitterness.
“Yeah, maybe I was too rough, but I didn’t intend to kill him. Do you always think I’m out to bully him whenever we’re in the same room?”
Leila turned her head away, her expression distant. She refused to meet Landon’s gaze.
Landon’s jaw tightened, and his eyes reddened. There was a trace of stubbornness in his tone as he pressed on.
“Leila, answer me. Do you really care about Clayton that much?”
She let out a slow breath, trying to stay calm. She didn’t want to waste time sparring with Landon over this. She especially didn’t want to unravel why, even with their relationship in ruins, he still acted as if he couldn’t let her go. Was it because he’d worn his mask for so long that he’d forgotten it wasn’t real?
Her eyes closed briefly as she steadied herself, exhaling sharply.
“If your men don’t move, I’ll call the police,” she said, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
Landon’s fists clenched, the sound of his knuckles cracking loud in the still air.
The two bodyguards glanced at him, shifting awkwardly.
Finally, Landon let out a sharp breath, his fists loosening as his shoulders sagged. His voice was low, almost defeated.
“Let her through.” The bodyguards stepped aside without a word, and Leila rushed past them to Clayton’s side.