Filed to story: Seventeen Heartbreaks: When Love Has No Voice
Nearby, Sarah was taken aback, sensing that something was amiss. Paul’s slightly ingratiating demeanor around Tyrone only intensified her irritation.
Sarah pulled Paul aside and questioned him, “I instructed you to assert dominance, not to be cordial. You are of noble birth. Tyrone’s merely a businessman who has dealings in Avalon. Why extend such courtesies to him? You should be asserting your superiority.”
Much to her astonishment, Paul jerked his hand away angrily. “What are you talking about? You expected me to insult Mr. Nixon? Have you lost your mind, or do you think I have?”
Sarah stared at Paul, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Why are you acting so timidly? You are a noble. Why should you fear him?”
Paul jabbed a finger toward Sarah in fury.
???????? ?????????????? ???? ??????????????????.??????
“I once thought you were both charming and intriguing, but now I realize you’re just superficial and foolish. Tyrone wields more influence in Ferelden than I do. My family and I, as nobles, must cooperate with him.
He’s your fellow countryman, making a name for himself in Ferelden. If we alienate him, we risk provoking Avalon. Do you consider me a fool? Are you an idiot or something? You jeopardize your own people’s interests out of sheer self-interest. You’re despicable!”
Paul hurled insults at Sarah, leaving her feeling wronged and frightened.
Although Paul lacked Landon’s charm and power, his status as a Ferelden noble still held its allure.
Sarah realized she had clearly made a grave mistake. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I intended,” she murmured, on the verge of tears.
Sarah couldn’t fathom how her plan to show off in Leila’s presence had backfired so terribly. She was reluctant to admit her mistake. Leila was merely fortunate, her identity surely fabricated.
Sarah gripped Paul’s hand, attempting to clarify things, but he brushed her off and left in a huff.
Onlookers witnessed the entire interaction, and a few started to jeer at Sarah.
Sarah was mortified, yet the worst was still ahead.
From a distance, Bria observed Sarah’s embarrassment and approached, flanked by several bodyguards.
Sarah gazed up at Bria and had a sinking feeling.
Bria looked down at Sarah, expression icy. She instructed her bodyguards, “What’s going on? How could someone like her get in? This woman brings only disgrace to the Nixon family. What are you guys waiting for? Get her out of here.”
Sarah seethed with anger. “This is the welcome banquet for Leila. What gives you the right to act so superior? I’m a guest here, and you have no authority to throw me out.”
Bria smirked. “No authority? Then tell me, who does? Leila? Who do you think you are? Do you realize how many people have scorned you since you left Landon? Now that he’s been ousted from the Kensington family, you just ditch him?”
As Leila neared, her gown trailing behind her, she caught wind of their conversation. Her emotions churned. Landon had been ousted from the Kensington family? She was stunned. No wonder Sarah was with another man, boldly introducing him as her boyfriend.
Leila had assumed Landon and Sarah were merely fighting, but it turned out Sarah had truly abandoned Landon.
Leila had thought she would feel satisfied, knowing Landon, who had mistreated her, was dumped, yet she found no joy in his pain. Instead, a subtle ache throbbed within her heart.
Leila recalled Landon’s once dignified and distant manner and understood the depth of his current anguish.
With a soft sigh that carried both pity and sorrow, Leila chose not to intervene. It was, after all, Landon’s decision to handle. Turning away, she began to walk off.
At that moment, Bria gestured sharply. Her bodyguards moved quickly, grabbing Sarah, who flailed and hurled insults as she struggled.
Despite Bria’s actions being questionable, no one felt pity for Sarah.
A few reported this incident to Tyrone.
Tyrone offered only a faint smile in response. “Let them sort out their own issues. As an elder, it’s not my place to interfere,” he commented.
Sarah was forcefully ejected before the high society of Burmoos, her disgrace immortalized by the flashing cameras of reporters.
The details of what transpired inside remained shrouded in mystery for most of the reporters, yet the scandal promised to dominate tomorrow’s headlines.
Sarah clenched her fists in frustration, not expecting to be so humiliated. She forgot she had once treated Leila the same way.
Leila made her way back to Tyrone, her expression heavy with gloom.
Tyrone approached her with a gentle tone, asking, “Are you feeling alright?”
Leila nodded, her hands moving with gestures that said, “I feel like I can’t breathe. I need some fresh air.”
Understanding her need, Tyrone signaled for a bodyguard to accompany her.
Leila immediately shook her head in protest, expressing her desire to spend some time alone.
Leila reasoned that in the safety of the Nixon family estate, even Bria, known for her malice, wouldn’t dare lay a hand on her.
Leila was correct in her assumption. However, although Bria wouldn’t dare make a move in such an obvious setting, she certainly had other schemes brewing.
The news of Leila’s current solitude soon reached Klein.
With a sly smirk, Klein glanced at Bria and declared, “Now’s our moment. It’s time we made our move. I didn’t see this coming. I was wracking my brain for a reasonable excuse.”
Bria, hesitant, voiced her uncertainty, “Klein, are you certain this will work?”
Klein’s expression darkened. “Bria, you need to see the bigger picture. I wouldn’t waste my time if there wasn’t a chance of success. Sure, Leila is favored by Tyrone and Ewing, but as you’ve pointed out, she’s nothing but a pretender. They’re probably desperate to cling to any semblance of the family lineage. But you’re Tyrone’s granddaughter. Your place is legitimate, and your health concerns are well-known. Find a remote spot, provoke Leila into an argument, and then feign a collapse. I’ll come to your rescue, and everyone will see Leila for the menace she is.”
Despite her doubts, Bria resigned herself to the scheme, compelled by Klein’s mounting impatience.
Bria told herself that Klein was by her side, at least. It was a comfort, far better than braving the challenges alone.
Bria rose to her feet, smoothing out the folds of her elegant dress with a flicker of irritation. “I should have known better than to choose this dress. All this effort I put into my outfit, and it feels like it’s all for nothing now.”
Bria faced Klein, their eyes locked. “Klein, you have my trust. Please don’t disappoint me.”
Klein’s smile was weak but reassuring. “I won’t.”
As Leila stepped out, she inadvertently ran into Trent.
Trent hurried over to her with urgency. “Miss, Mr. Ewing Nixon requests your presence. Could you spare a moment?”
Confusion crossed Leila’s face, but she nodded in agreement.
Trent escorted Leila to a room where Ewing awaited with a complex look on his face and a beautifully crafted box at his side.
Ewing gestured toward the box, inviting Leila to open it.
Leila shook her head and then pulled out her phone to type a message. “You all have already given me so much. Please, no more gifts. I’m truly grateful. Thank you.”
Ewing shook his head, his voice firm. “It’s a gift, indeed, but not from me. It’s from someone who wished to remain anonymous and insisted it be given privately.”
A flutter of anticipation touched Leila’s heart. “Is it from someone I know?” She typed, her curiosity piqued.
Ewing gave a solemn nod, his gaze intense. “If you’d rather not, there’s no need to open it. I can send it back. But if you choose to, there’s a message I need to pass on.”
Leila suspected she already knew the sender.
Silent, she drew closer to the box and examined it. It appeared to be crafted from aged, valuable wood, adorned with several words carved.
She recognized the words immediately. They were her name.
The engraving was smooth, indicative of frequent handling.
Leila delicately ran her fingers over the carved letters, detecting a residual warmth. It seemed improbable to her that Landon, who had always been distant, had crafted this.
Their marriage lacked warmth, yet the handwriting of the carved letters was undeniably his. Her love for him had been deep and long-standing. She could not be wrong.