Filed to story: Seventeen Heartbreaks: When Love Has No Voice
“There are plenty of ways to prove your sincerity. You don’t have to resort to something this extreme. Besides, I’ve already looked into what happened at the banquet last time. I know you weren’t behind Sophie being pushed into the lake at the engagement party.”
Lacey froze, her eyes wide with shock. She hadn’t seen this coming. Relief washed over her, but indignation quickly followed.
“Then who was it?” she demanded, her voice taut with frustration.
“Who would go so far as to hurt Sophie and frame me for it?”
Landon’s gaze lingered on her, searching her expression for something unspoken. Finally, he replied, his voice low and deliberate, “I’m not ready to reveal that yet. What I can tell you is that you need to be more vigilant. People’s intentions aren’t always what they seem, and if you’re not careful, you’ll end up being manipulated without even realizing it.”
Landon had spent countless hours unraveling the truth, piecing together a puzzle that led him to Sarah.
Something about that day had gnawed at him-a gut feeling he couldn’t ignore. The Miller family’s downfall had left Sarah a shadow of her former self. She was no longer a player in high society, her name all but forgotten. And yet, Lacey had invited Sarah. It didn’t make sense.
The more Landon dug, the stranger it became. He learned it was Lacey herself who had insisted on sending Sarah an invitation. That one act linked them in a way he hadn’t expected, raising questions he wasn’t ready to answer aloud.
Landon had uncovered details about Lacey and Sarah’s past meetings, though he hadn’t delved too deeply into their private conversations. Whatever they talked about, he suspected it revolved around either him or Leila. In a way, Lacey had unwittingly brought these problems on herself.
Landon chose to warn Lacey because he didn’t want her to be used against Leila-or anyone else-again.
As Lacey stepped out of Landon’s study, her thoughts swirled in a storm of conflicting emotions. Relief prickled at the edges of her mind. Landon hadn’t uncovered her involvement with the explosion, after all. But a pang of anxiety tugged at her as she replayed their conversation. Had her jittery behavior given her away?
And then there was Sarah. The memory of Sarah’s actions lingered like a bitter taste. Did Sarah really do what Landon implied? Why would Sarah, knowing her days were numbered, go that far?
Lacey’s fists clenched as she mulled over it. Was Sarah’s approach from the very start just a ploy? If so, it had worked. Lacey belatedly realized she had been a hair’s breadth away from taking the fall.
The thought ignited a spark of anger that burned through her relief. She wanted to confront Sarah, demand answers, and vent her frustration. But almost as quickly, she dismissed the idea. What was the point? Sarah’s fate was sealed, and time wasn’t on her side.
Still, Sarah’s sudden reappearance had left a door slightly ajar-a door Lacey hadn’t considered before. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was a way to turn this situation to her advantage.
When Lacey returned to her room, her resolve had hardened. Grabbing her phone, she quickly dialed Clayton’s number.
Leila had spent three days in the hospital, letting the weight of her sadness sink in. She didn’t try to fight it. Instead, she allowed herself to grieve.
But when the doctor finally announced her health was stable enough for discharge, something shifted. Her tear-streaked face hardened with determination. She wasn’t going to let this go. Whoever had targeted Sophie and Brysen would pay.
The police didn’t take long to provide answers. The explosion and subsequent fire hadn’t been an accident. Someone had planted the device intentionally, their malicious actions leaving destruction and casualties in their wake.
Despite the investigation, Leila soon realized that public opinion wasn’t on her side. Mysteriously, whispers began to swirl, blaming her for the tragedy. It was clear someone was manipulating the narrative, steering the fury of the masses directly at her.
The day after Leila was discharged, the situation escalated. Victims’ families gathered at the entrance of the Nixon Group building, holding banners that screamed for justice.
Their cries were loud, their grief palpable, but their demands were misplaced.
“Leila must pay the price!”
It was maddening because Leila had acted immediately after the incident. She had sent representatives to offer compensation and apologies, extending her empathy and taking responsibility for what had happened.
The rumors-that she had ignored their pleas or dismissed their lawyers-were outright lies. Someone was clearly pulling the strings from the shadows. And yet, if she ignored the uproar, the outrage would only grow stronger.
By the time Leila arrived at her office, she was barely holding herself together. Her face was pale, her eyes rimmed red from crying over Brysen just hours earlier. But there was no time to grieve, no room to crumble. This was another fire she had to extinguish.
Her assistant noticed her frazzled state and hesitated before speaking.
“Miss Nixon, maybe you should let the PR department handle this,” she suggested gently.
“We’re the victims here, too. The truth will come out. The law will prove our innocence. You really need some rest.”
Leila shook her head firmly.
“No way. I have to make an appearance. What they’re after isn’t an explanation-they want to put their struggles on display for the media. If I stay out of sight, the backlash will spiral out of control.”
Her assistant hesitated but didn’t push further, recognizing Leila’s resolve. Instead, she suggested, “Should I call the styling team to help you get ready?”
Leila glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Her pale complexion and tired eyes told a story of sleepless nights and endless grief. She shook her head, her movements slow and deliberate.
“There’s no need for that. I’m not going to play the sympathy card. I want people to see me as I am-exhausted but unyielding.”
The assistant immediately understood and nodded in quiet agreement. Together, they descended the grand staircase and stepped out of the company building.
The scene outside was chaotic. Banners swayed in the air, angry slogans scrawled across them. The noise of the crowd-a mix of shouts, murmurs, and sobs-filled the street like a tidal wave crashing against Leila’s and her assistant’s footsteps. For a brief moment, the energy shifted.
Leila’s gaze swept over the crowd. It was exactly as she had predicted. Only a fraction of the people gathered were actual victims’ families. The rest were opportunistic onlookers, reporters hungry for a headline, and influencers chasing their next viral moment. She could see through it all. Yet, even knowing some had come only to stir trouble, the reality of the grieving families cut her deeply.
The silence didn’t last. Soon, voices rose again, louder and angrier.
A few people surged forward, their faces contorted with rage. One particularly agitated man lunged toward Leila, his hand outstretched as if to grab her by the collar.
Before he could get close, Leila’s bodyguards stepped in, forming a solid wall between Leila and the furious crowd.
Leila’s assistant, unable to hold back any longer, raised her voice.
“Everyone, please! Can we calm down? Miss Nixon has come here herself to address the issues. She’s here to help!” But her words did little to soothe the anguish of the families.
A middle-aged woman’s voice pierced the noise.
“My son was just an intern at that retreat! He had such a bright future ahead of him, and now it’s gone. What could you possibly say to make this right? I don’t want your blood money-I want my son back!”
Her voice broke, and she collapsed into bitter sobs, her grief raw and unfiltered.
The crowd seemed to absorb her pain, their cries swelling in unison. Onlookers who had come out of curiosity now wiped tears from their eyes, their gazes turning on Leila with anger and blame.
Leila’s assistant widened her eyes, her frustration bubbling over.
“But when you took the compensation before, you didn’t say any of this! Now you’ve accepted the money and come back to cause more trouble? How is that fair?”
The woman didn’t respond. Her cries grew louder, her voice trembling with raw grief. It was clear she had no intention of answering. She clung to her role as the heartbroken mother, unconcerned with anything beyond amplifying her pain for the crowd’s sympathy.
Leila shifted her gaze to her assistant, her voice low but steady.
“Call for more bodyguards. There’s no point in explaining further. I didn’t come here to apologize today.”
The assistant froze for a moment, startled by Leila’s calm demeanor. Despite the chaos, Leila’s composure hinted at a carefully thought-out plan.
Realizing there was more to Leila’s approach than met the eye, the assistant nodded, her own panic subsiding. She quickly stepped aside to make the call, summoning additional bodyguards as instructed.
Leila looked down at the crowd below and raised her voice to address them.
“Everyone, as my assistant just explained, we have already apologized and provided compensation. I-“
Before Leila could finish, a man interrupted her.
“So what if you apologize? Does that mean you can just brush this aside? Your attitude is downright irresponsible.”
Leila’s eyes narrowed as she looked at the man holding a phone. Her voice turned cold as she responded, “Who said I’m avoiding responsibility? I haven’t even finished yet, and you are already jumping to conclusions. I’m aware some of you are live-streaming this, and I see the media are here as well. Fine. Record everything. I have no objections. You are free to film, just as I am. But let me make one thing clear to those trying to gain attention from this: once this matter is resolved, I will address those who attempt to slander or defame me. Anyone who tries to turn this into a tool to manipulate public opinion will have to face the consequences.”
With these words, the buzzing swarm of media and influencers fell into an uneasy hush. They weren’t at a loss for words; they were simply too cautious to speak carelessly. Defamation was a serious offense. If the situation escalated, they risked being caught in the crossfire, facing legal consequences they couldn’t afford.
They knew the stakes. If this scandal didn’t drag Leila down, they would be the ones who suffered. For individuals with modest incomes, it wasn’t a risk worth taking.
As the noise in the crowd slowly dwindled, Leila’s expression softened. She cleared her throat and continued, “Now, as I said before, I’m not here today simply to apologize. Because, like many of you, I’m also a victim.”
Leila’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she said, “In that tragic event, I lost someone very dear to me. She wasn’t just a friend-she was like a sister. I went to great lengths to establish this care facility for her to help her with her illness. I know some of you may question my intentions. Perhaps you think she was just a normal friend, that I wasn’t sincere.
But let’s be real. She wasn’t my biological sister and didn’t come from a wealthy family. So, why would I put myself through all of this? And don’t forget, my daughter visited her regularly at the facility-every two days, without fail. If you doubt me, I’m willing to release all the surveillance footage to prove it. Therefore, if I hadn’t gone that day, it would have been my daughter walking into that building with my friend…”