Filed to story: Seventeen Heartbreaks: When Love Has No Voice
Landon’s expression darkened at the sight, his gaze turning frosty. “What do you want now?”
Cara put on an air of innocence. “I believe there are matters we need to address that aren’t for Elma’s ears. Landon, I truly want to sort things out this time. I’m not messing around.”
Cara then poured Landon a glass of wine, her voice growing gentler. “I’ve given it a lot of thought. Clayton is right. I can’t make you love me. I’ll let you go, but only if you agree to one thing. I won’t agree to a divorce. You’ll remain my husband, provided you promise to visit Elma and me every year. If you do, I won’t hinder your freedom.”
Landon was taken aback by Cara’s sudden change of heart. He looked down at the wine, his eyes flickering.
Cara watched him, her expression hopeful. “Is that alright with you? It’s the furthest I’m willing to bend. If you’re good with it, drink this wine. If not, leave it. I’ll take that as your answer. Just know that I won’t stop chasing you.”
Landon didn’t hesitate. He lifted the glass and emptied it in one swift motion.
A twinge of sadness flickered across Cara’s face as he made it clear he was steering clear of her. Yet, her inner excitement overshadowed her sorrow. He had actually consumed the alcohol.
“I accept your terms. Now that we’ve settled this, I’ve got things to take care of. I need to go,” Landon declared, his tone as icy as ever as he stood to leave.
Cara watched him silently, counting down in her head.
In just three seconds, as anticipated, Landon’s steps faltered.
Cara flashed a victorious grin and moved toward Landon, her expression laced with mock concern. “Landon, are you alright? You don’t look too good. Need help getting back to relax a bit?” Landon’s breathing was rapid, and he looked as if he might collapse at any moment.
Seizing the moment, Cara supported him, leaning in to whisper, “Come on. Let me help you get back and rest.”
Without objection, Landon allowed Cara to guide him toward a quaint pavilion nestled in the garden. Elsewhere, the celebration buzzed with lively energy, brimming with an array of activities and dancing.
Leila mingled with guests, sampling an array of tempting dishes. Yet, abruptly, a wave of discomfort washed over her. Glancing down at the food clutched in her hand, her desire to eat evaporated. A heaviness settled in her chest, as if a massive weight pressed against it.
Nearby, Sophie and Calvin, along with Linsey and Wayne, reveled in the festivities.
Reluctant to dampen their spirits, Leila decided to keep her distress to herself. She cleared her throat, standing up with a forced smile. “I need to step away for a bit. You all have fun.” Leila masked her unease well. Linsey, oblivious to her turmoil, casually waved her off. “Just take someone with you, okay? It’s packed today, and you can’t be too careful. I’ll stay here with the kids, no worries.”
“Sure,” Leila responded, managing a smile.
Yet, despite Linsey’s advice, Leila ventured off alone. She reasoned she had no adversaries here. Plus, it was the territory under the Morgan family’s control. The notion that anyone might dare confront her in this place seemed far-fetched. However, Leila soon discovered she had gravely misjudged the true nature of her circumstances.
Gradually distancing herself from the gathering, the suffocating sensation still clung to Leila, escalating into panic.
Seeking solace, Leila retreated to a secluded spot. After a moment’s hesitation, she pulled out her phone. She accessed a hidden album-a secret cache of images featuring her and Landon with the twins immediately after their birth. At that time, the twins had been frail, confined to incubators.
Despite the gravity of their condition, Leila’s gaze at the time was imbued with hope and deep affection. She had endured much to bring the twins into the world.
Chloe, the younger and smaller of the two, had been declared by doctors to have slim chances of survival. Miraculously, she had prevailed.
However, Leila had been robbed of the chance to watch Chloe grow. Following Chloe’s and Landon’s disappearance, she spent countless nights weeping over these photos.
To manage her overwhelming grief, she had concealed the album. Now, reopening it, the old heartache surged once more. Leila extended her hand, her fingers tenderly gliding over Chloe’s face, as if savoring the feel of her cheek. Then, her touch shifted to Landon’s face. Even years later, his visage remained vivid in her memory. She could recall every feature, no need for photographs to refresh her mind.
As Leila was engrossed in her memories, she failed to notice someone sneaking up behind her.
Suddenly, her instincts kicked in. A shiver shot through her as she spotted the shadow cast by a nearby streetlight-hers and another- inching closer.
Leila acted unaware, timing her move perfectly to sidestep as the man lunged, sending him tumbling to the ground with a grunt.
Seizing the moment, Leila dashed ahead.
“Stop right there, you wretched woman!” the man shouted after her. He picked himself up and gave chase as fast as his legs would carry him.
The wind howled in Leila’s ears as she sprinted, frantically punching Linsey’s number into her phone.
Just as Leila neared a crowd, several figures emerged unexpectedly.
Caught off guard, Leila was tackled to the ground by the leader of the group.
The assailants were skilled. They quickly pinned her arms and legs and clamped a hand over her mouth.
Just as Leila’s call connected, her phone clattered to the ground, its screen lighting up the dark.
Linsey’s voice came through softly. “Hello, Leila? Why are you silent? Is something the matter?”
An elderly man drew near, ended the call abruptly, and threw the phone into a nearby lake.
Leila felt a sting of anguish in her eyes. Her concern wasn’t for the phone or the fading chance of rescue. Her thoughts were on the photos of Chloe and Landon stored on it. They were her only keepsakes of them.
Leila fought back desperately, her cries muffled and indistinct. The man who had initially assaulted her appeared, breathless and cursing. “This woman is cunning and quick. I nearly lost her.” The elderly man, none other than the Morgan family’s butler, looked on with disdain. “Had I not intervened, you would have indeed lost her. Watch yourself, or the higher-ups will have your head.”
The man, the butler’s nephew, recoiled, visibly shaken. He remained silent, too frightened to speak.
Leila watched their faces closely. They were clearly conspiring and seemed to be carrying out someone’s orders. Their brazenness extended to not even concealing their faces. Their boss must be extraordinarily influential and have no intention of letting her survive. But this was the Morgan family’s territory.
Who held more sway than the Morgan family?
The thought sent shivers down Leila’s spine.
“I had thought we might not make it today,” the butler said to his nephew, eyeing Leila. “But she strayed by herself, presenting an ideal chance.”
Turning to Leila, the butler said, “Miss Nixon, you can’t really blame us. Your carelessness landed you in this situation.”
Leila seized the opportunity and bit the hand that was silencing her. With that, she could finally draw a breath. Her gaze was cautious and sharp. “What do you want from me? Money? Influence? You know who I am. I can arrange whatever you need. Just let me go. I promise, this stays between us.”
With a sinister laugh, the nephew remarked, “Darling, look closely at who you’re dealing with. You don’t have what we’re after. Consider who you might have upset.”
Leila eyed the man with growing recognition. Her eyes widened in shock as realization dawned on her. This was the man who had tried to harass her at the bar.
But wasn’t it just a dream? If it wasn’t a dream, then what about Landon? She had met him that day.
Before Leila could voice her questions, she was silenced once more. This time, her vision was blocked by a black cloth, plunging her into pitch darkness. Her limbs were securely tied, and she felt herself being hoisted into a vehicle.
About thirty minutes later, Leila was removed from the vehicle.
Time seemed to blur.
When they finally removed the cloth, Leila’s first instinct was to scan her surroundings, but everything was still dark. She found herself in a cramped, dim room with a tiny window near the ceiling. The window was too small for an adult to squeeze through.
The door was firmly closed, effectively barring any escape.
In such dire straits, Leila felt fear surge through her, causing her to shake uncontrollably. She continuously told herself to stay calm. Just as she steadied her nerves, she heard the sound of a lock turning from the outside.
A man appeared in the doorway, murmuring curses under his breath.
Leila’s heart sank as she recognized him. It was the same man from the bar, the one who had made aggressive advances toward her.
Leila ducked into the shadows, hoping to disappear, but the small room offered no refuge.
The man’s eyes quickly adjusted to the dim lighting spilling in from outside, and his gaze locked onto Leila. With a chilling smile, he began removing his clothes as he walked toward her. Panic surged through Leila as his intentions became dreadfully clear. Her mind froze, terror rooting her to the spot. She tried to speak, to scream, but her voice refused to break free. Now shirtless, the man exuded a vile menace that twisted Leila’s stomach into knots. He stooped before her, his hand cruelly tilting her chin upward.
“I almost died because of you!” he hissed. “You owe me for that. Behave, and maybe I’ll be merciful later. You chose the wrong man to mess with.”
Leila’s mind raced. Who had she messed with? Memories of turning away unwanted attention flashed through her mind. Could he be referring to Clayton? But that seemed impossible. Her relationship with Clayton had been nothing but cordial and respectful.
Leila’s mind swirled with panic as the man pinned her down. He fumbled at her clothes, desperate to undress her.
Fortunately, Leila had chosen to wear an ornate gown, its complex layers giving her a slight advantage.
The man, sweating heavily from his exertions, struggled with the fabric, ultimately failing to remove it. Visibly agitated, he withdrew a small knife, slicing through the ropes that bound Leila before pressing the cold steel against her throat.