LAYLA'S POV
The next morning came too soon.
I hadn't really slept and just kept drifting in and out of a fog filled with memories of torn wedding veils, my sister's smug smile, and Daniel's empty eyes as he tossed away five years of relationship like they meant nothing.
I told myself I was done crying. That it was all in the past and now, I'd remind them all who the hell I was.
I forced myself to the bathroom, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in my chest. Once there, I ran the warm water and stepped into the tub, letting the steam envelop me and momentarily soothe my racing thoughts.
I didn't bother doing much after stepping out. I just put on a soft white robe and started drying my hair with a towel. Walking over to the dresser, I decided to check my phone for messages even though I knew deep down I probably wouldn't find anything worth reading aside from my disastrous wedding.
Suddenly, the door creaked open.
"Jesus!" I yelped, jumping a whole foot backwards and nearly slipping on the tiled floor. My heart pounded against my ribs.
Axel stood in the doorway, his expression was calm and unreadable. He didn't look at my robe or make any comments; he just focused on my face for a moment before turning away like I wasn't the one nearly having a panic attack.
"I didn't know you were raised in a barn," I snapped, snatching the rope tighter around my body. "Ever heard of knocking? This might be your house, but common decency exists, you know."
Still facing away from me, he spoke calmly. "You finished?"
I narrowed my eyes at the back of his head. "Excuse me?"
"I said," Axel repeated slowly, "are you finished?"
And just like that, I went mute. My mouth opened, then shut again. Oh I definitely had more to say but something told me Axel was not a fan of unnecessary argument and so I let it be.
"I've told the maids to bring up your breakfast," he said coolly. "So get ready quickly, we leave in two hours."
I blinked. "Wait, for what?"
He started walking out but paused with one hand on the doorframe. "Press conference. Dress accordingly."
I stared at his back like it had just slapped me. "A press conference?" I repeated. "Today?"
"You have approximately an hour and fifty-nine minutes now." Then he left without another word.
I stood there in complete silence for a solid ten seconds. Does this guy ever give out details of his plans?
With a sigh, I collapsed backwards onto the bed. I should've known this man didn't believe in easing people into anything.
A press conference.
Not brunch, or a tour of his mansion, or even a text to say "Hey, we'll be showing our fake marriage to the world today, maybe brace yourself."
Just press conference
My mind spun as I stared up at the ceiling. I hadn't seen my family since the day they replaced me at the altar. Now I was expected to walk into a room, dressed to kill, beside the man who was as cold as a corpse and look completely unfazed?
No pressure.
I sighed, dragging myself off the mattress. The wardrobe was practically a small boutique, stocked with pieces I could never afford without a black card and generational wealth. I rummaged through a few options before my eyes landed on the dress.
It was a floor-length, white silk dress, backless, bold, but still classy. Just enough to say: I'm not the girl you took for granted; I'm the woman you'll always remember.
I hung it on the closet door and ran my fingers down the fabric.
A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. It was Martha, rolling in a tray of breakfast. "Mr. O'Brien requested something light for you. Scrambled eggs, toast, and fresh juice. I hope it's to your liking?"
"Thanks," I said, though my stomach twisted at the sight of food. I forced a few bites down anyway, mostly for show. The anticipation made it impossible to eat.
I carefully put on the dress. The silk felt cool and soft against my skin, like a second layer. I styled my damp hair into soft waves, applied some lipstick, and looked at myself in the mirror.
Layla Watson was gone.
Layla O'Brien had officially entered the chat.
I stepped out of the room to find Axel already waiting at the base of the staircase, glancing down at his watch like I'd just delayed a NASA launch.
"I'm ready," I muttered.
He didn't respond; he just gave me a once-over, his expression was hard to decipher as always, and then turned and walked toward the front door.
I followed, heels clicking on the marble floor.
We got into the back of a sleek black limo, the kind with champagne tucked inside secret compartments and windows that screamed privacy means everything.
I cleared my throat. "So what exactly should I expect?"
Axel adjusted the cuff of his charcoal suit without looking at me. "You don't have to say anything if you're not up to it. Just stand beside me and look confident."
Not smile for the cameras, sweetheart. Just confident.
It was oddly grounding.
"And if they ask questions?"
"Don't answer anything that throws you off," he said simply. "And remember, your family will be watching."
My throat tightened. "Right."
"Whatever you're thinking," he added without looking at me, "channel and use it. As long as it won't backfire."
I leaned back against the leather seat, hands clenched in my lap. This wasn't just about showing them I'd moved on. This was about showing them I'd levelled up.
Minutes passed in silence and the limo hummed beneath us, gliding over the smooth asphalt. When we pulled up to the event hall, I glanced at my watch and raised an eyebrow. "We're early?"
Axel straightened his cuffs and glanced at me, one brow raised. "Punctuality," he said, "is common decency."
I scowled. "You did not just throw my words back at me."
The corners of his lips twitched slightly. But he didn't confirm or deny it. The driver opened the door, and we stepped out.
The moment our feet hit the red carpet rolled out in front of the venue, flashbulbs exploded.
The reporters hadn't even been fully set up yet, but they scrambled like ants to catch us as we arrived.
"Axel! Over here… Mr. O'Brien!"
"What do you have to say about the new real estate merger?"
"Is it true you'll be venturing into the tech industry?"
"Mr. O'Brien, is it true you acquired Redvine Tech last quarter?"
Questions flew like daggers, but Axel didn't flinch. He kept walking, his hand lightly resting at the small of my back in a gesture that was both possessive and calculated. I kept my expression composed, reminding myself not to trip on the damn carpet. That would be so embarrassing.
At first, no one seemed to notice me, not until "Wait… is that…?"
Someone pointed, and my breath caught.
A different reporter, younger, with a high ponytail and keen eyes, leaned forward and squinted past the crowd.
"Oh my God," she muttered. "That's Layla Watson."
The name rippled like a spark catching dry leaves.
Cameras started flashing faster now, this time not for Axel but me.
"It's her."
"Isn't she the Watson heiress?"
"Wasn't she the one who…?"
I swallowed hard, keeping my face neutral even as panic threatened to claw its way up my throat.
And then the question came.
"Miss Watson," the ponytail reporter called out, pushing past another crew, "is it true you were left at the altar just two days by Daniel Hart?"
A wave of murmurs surged across the crowd.
I stopped walking.
Just like that, my feet failed me.
The words hit harder than they should have not because they were untrue, but because they were designed to reduce me to that headline.
I felt every camera lens shift toward me, their attention fixated on me and my eyes darted toward Axel instinctively.
He had stopped walking when I slowed. His expression didn't change, but his hand moved casually to his side, as if signalling something.
I took a breath, ready to force a response when two flashy black cars pulled up behind the press barrier.
I recognised them instantly and my pulse spiked.
'No. No, no, no.'
The doors opened, and Cassandra stepped out of the first car, dressed in blood-red silk, sunglasses perched atop her head like she was walking into the Met Gala.
And beside her was Daniel.