Filed to story: Seventeen Heartbreaks: When Love Has No Voice
Leo had expected Landon to be furious. But, to his astonishment, Landon only sighed lowly and said, “Straighten up and look at me.”
Leo looked up slowly, his eyes cautious but grateful.
“If you’re still angry, send me away as you please. I’ll go to the Fraca branch if that’s what you want.”
Landon’s mouth twitched, a faint smile breaking through.
“And who’ll handle your work if I do?”
Relief flickered in Leo’s eyes, though he kept his composure.
“Thank you. I won’t let you down again.”
Landon glanced at Leo, his voice calm but firm.
“I won’t allow you to have that kind of opportunity again. I’ve known about your and Sophie’s plans from the beginning. Nothing slips past my attention, especially personnel changes. Do you honestly believe you and Sophie made your way into the Kensington family’s estate without anyone making things difficult for you?”
Leo met Landon’s gaze, his eyes filled with gratitude.
“Thank you for your patience and understanding, Mr. Kensington.”
“Enough.” Landon waved his hand dismissively. He glanced toward the car where Leila sat, then turned back to Leo.
“I have a job for you. You’re to protect Leila. I trust no one else with this. Besides protecting her, you need to keep an eye on her. She’s hiding something, and I need to know what.”
Leo hesitated before asking, “Do you think she’s pretending?”
Landon turned his gaze away and didn’t respond to Leo’s question. But his expression told Leo everything.
Leo added, “I don’t know Miss Nixon all that well, but from what I can tell, she has no reason to put on an act. Mr. Kensington, maybe this is the perfect chance for you to uncover the truth.”
“The truth? What truth are you talking about?” Landon lifted his gaze, his eyes narrowing as he studied Leo.
Leo continued, “The truth about why she left you all those years ago.”
Landon’s expression turned icy.
“That’s not your concern. Just do your job. If anything goes wrong, you’ll answer to me. Understood?”
Leo nodded, swallowing his fear.
Sophie and Calvin, watching from a distance as Landon returned with Leila, finally exhaled in relief.
“I knew it,” Sophie murmured.
“He still cares about our mom.”
Calvin snorted.
“Really? If he cared, he wouldn’t have let her go off alone. Look at her now. She’s been through hell. We had no choice but to call him earlier.”
Sophie couldn’t help but notice Calvin’s clear hostility toward Landon, a tension she found difficult to navigate.
“He’s still our father, Calvin. Whether we like it or not.”
“I don’t need a father,” Calvin shot back, his voice cold.
Sophie hesitated, her words caught in her throat. As much as she wanted to say something, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Calvin had a valid point.
After everything that had happened last time, Sophie found it hard to trust Landon as much as she once had. Yet, despite everything, she couldn’t bring herself to hate him. Maybe it was the memories from her childhood.
Landon escorted Leila back to the Kensington family estate. His voice was calm and matter-of-fact as he laid out the truth.
“You’re their mother. If you need proof, the DNA results are ready.”
Leila had no choice but to come to terms with the reality. Three children? The thought was surreal but not unwelcome. She felt little resistance toward them.
After a long pause, Leila asked quietly, “Is Clayton my husband?”
Landon’s demeanor shifted instantly, his eyes darkening. Instead of answering her question, he asked, “What do you think?”
Leila shook her head, a wave of confusion washing over her.
“I don’t know. It feels like he should be, but maybe he’s not. I’m just not sure.”
Since she woke up in the middle of a session, a voice in her head had been repeating that her husband was Clayton.
Leila sensed it had to be important. So, before losing her memory, she had repeated it to herself, as if trying to hold onto something vital. It was the only thing her mind could recall when she regained consciousness again.
But doubts crept in. Leila figured if Clayton was her husband, why had her children told her he was a bad guy? What secrets were buried beneath the surface? Landon clearly knew it all, but he kept silent. Every time she mentioned Clayton’s name, his expression darkened.
Landon spoke coldly.
“Whether he’s your husband or not is for you to figure out. Don’t bother asking me.”
“After all, even if Clayton isn’t your husband, marrying him now remains an option for you,” Landon remarked with a derisive smirk. Leila, visibly bewildered, gazed at Landon, unable to fathom his fury.
Landon’s irritation simmered beneath the surface, but he restrained himself, not wanting to unleash his anger on her. Abruptly, he rose and strode toward the door.
To his surprise, Leila hastened after him.
“Sir,” she called out, her eyes shining with sincerity and a hint of desperation.
“Even though I can’t recall who you are to me, and you withhold that information, something profound within me insists you hold significance in my life.”
At her words, a thrill coursed through Landon, though his expression remained stoically controlled. He managed a slight smile and queried softly, “What makes you feel this way? Do you experience a certain spark upon seeing me?”
“You’re correct,” Leila affirmed with a gentle nod.
Closing the gap between them, Landon leaned in and murmured in her ear, “Tell me, is it affection or respect you feel? Or could it possibly be hatred? If you hate me, the intensity of your feelings might mislead you to believe I’m important, even if your memory fails you.”
His voice was warm, deep, and captivating, tinged with an enticing allure. Yet, his words carried a chilling detachment.
Leila’s eyes widened in shock, a bewildered expression crossing her face.
“Why would I hate you? I harbor no such feelings toward you.”
Landon squared his shoulders, fixing Leila with a serious gaze. A wave of sadness washed over him unexpectedly. He managed a strained, bitter smile.
“It’s because you’ve forgotten it all-the disputes, the bitterness between us. Your hatred is buried in forgotten memories. Once those memories return, it will all make sense.”
He let out a deep sigh, fatigue evident in his voice.
“I’m weary. You should rest,” he stated, turning to walk away.
Leila’s gaze lingered on his retreating figure, noting the forlorn slouch of his shoulders. A pang of sadness gripped her, tightening her chest inexplicably. Why did this sadness envelop her so? It was peculiar, almost as if a part of her mourned a loss she couldn’t recall. She exhaled a soft sigh, her gaze drifting elsewhere.
Shortly, a servant escorted Leila to a room. However, it wasn’t the guest room she expected.
Standing at the doorway, Leila instinctively objected.
“Please, take me to a guest room. It isn’t right for me to stay here.” Confusion clouded her thoughts as soon as these words escaped her lips. She didn’t recall ever being in this room before. How did she know it wasn’t meant for guests?
The servant looked at Leila with a mixture of curiosity and surprise. Suppressing a surge of excitement, the servant inquired cautiously, “Why do you say that, Miss Nixon? Have you remembered something?”