The cool night air did very little to quell the burning rage that still simmered beneath Layla's skin. She broke down in tears. She couldn't hold them in again. Her life seems to be going down the spiral again, but this time she'd fight against the odds.
Each breath she took felt ragged, laced with the bitter taste of betrayal. She walked without direction, the glittering lights of the city blurring into an indistinguishable haze, mirroring the chaos in her mind. Where could she go? Who could she trust? The two people closest to her had just ripped her life to shreds.
She didn't know where she was going until she had stopped in front of the one building she swore she'd never enter again. Black Enterprises— the tower where Ryan worked, where he worked. The building loomed against the night sky, a silent monument of power and wealth. Layla stopped across the street, staring up at the illuminated windows, wondering if the enigmatic CEO was still inside, oblivious to the personal drama that had just unfolded within his ranks.
A memory surfaced – a fleeting conversation at a company gala. Julian Black, his gaze sharp and assessing as it swept over her, had made a curt remark about Mark's…lack of foresight. At the time, she'd dismissed it as typical boss behavior. Now, the words echoed with a different resonance.
Driven by a sudden, impulsive urge, Layla pulled out her phone. She scrolled through her contacts, her thumb hovering over Mark's number before skipping past it with a surge of disgust. Instead, she found the digital business card Julian Black had pressed into her hand that night, the embossed lettering cool and sophisticated beneath her trembling fingertips. What did she have to lose?
Taking a deep breath, she tapped the number. The phone rang twice before a deep, resonant voice answered, a voice that sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. "Blackwood." Just the single word, devoid of warmth, yet carrying an undeniable weight of authority.
Layla's throat felt tight. "Mr. Blackwood? It's Layla… Layla Hayes. Mark's… fiancée." The last word felt like ash in her mouth.
There was a brief pause on the other end, a silence that stretched, thick with unspoken understanding. "Ms. Hayes. This is… unexpected." His tone remained neutral, yet Layla detected a subtle shift, a flicker of something unreadable.
"I… I need to talk to you," she managed, her voice trembling despite her efforts to remain composed. "It's… personal. And it concerns Mark."
Another pause. Then, a clipped, "Come up." He gave her the floor and elevator access code without further explanation.
* * *
Layla didn't belong here,not in a marble lobby where everyone wore suits that cost more than her rent. She felt like she was in a foreign land with no guide.But she was done being walked over.
The receptionist blinked at her.
"I'm sorry, do you have an appointment? Your name please"
Layla shook her head, brushing hair from her tear-streaked face. "No. But I spoke to Mr. Blackwood already and he asked me to come up. I am Layla Hayes."
"Oh, he called to tell me you were coming",the receptionist said, giving her a once over.Layla looked nothing like she normally did—windblown hair, no makeup, eyes red.
The lobby of Blackwood Enterprises was deserted at this hour, the polished marble reflecting her distraught image like a distorted mirror. The elevator ascended with a hushed efficiency, each rising floor amplifying Layla's nervous anticipation. What was she doing? Barging into the CEO's office in the middle of the night, her life in tatters?
The elevator doors opened onto a spacious office bathed in the soft glow of the city lights. His office was silent, sterile, and stunning—glass walls, minimalist furniture, chrome edges, and a skyline view that seemed to look down on the entire city.
Julian Black stood by the window, a formidable silhouette against the glittering backdrop. He turned as she entered, his dark eyes, sharp and intelligent, assessing her with an intensity that made her feel both exposed and strangely…seen. He looked every bit the man headlines called The Ice King of Manhattan.
He was everything the tabloids said: devastatingly handsome,dressed like sin in a tailored charcoal suit, and twice as intimidating in person. His eyes met hers without a flicker of emotion.
Layla swallowed. His presence hit like a wall: ice-cold, dominant and unreadable.He didn't offer platitudes or polite inquiries.
"Mark has… disappointed you." It wasn't a question, but a statement, delivered with a detached certainty that surprised Layla.
Swallowing hard, she nodded, the raw emotion threatening to overwhelm her again. "He… he was with Brielle." The words were barely a whisper.
Julian Black's expression didn't change. Only something colder. Sharper. A subtle hardening in his gaze. "Indeed. Mark has a penchant for… poor choices." He turned away from the window, his movements deliberate and controlled. "Sit down, Ms. Hayes. Tell me what brings you here at this hour."
Layla sank into the offered leather chair, the cool surface a small comfort. She looked up at the billionaire, this powerful, enigmatic man who held her ex's professional fate in his hands. An audacious plan began to solidify in her mind, a dangerous alliance forged in the fires of betrayal.
She took another shaky breath and began to speak, the words tumbling out, fueled by anger and a desperate yearning for retribution. She told him everything. And as she spoke, a flicker of something akin to interest, perhaps even a hint of… agreement, sparked in the depths of Julian Black's dark eyes. The silence that followed her confession was thick with unspoken possibilities, a silent promise hanging in the air.