A Perfect Illusion

04

The streets were unusually quiet that morning, the sun hanging low in the pale blue sky as Layla stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets. Today was her day off, but instead of feeling relaxed, her mind kept circling back to something she had seen the previous week—something she couldn’t shake off no matter how much she tried.

“It was on that damn board in Dante’s office,” Layla mumbled to herself as she walked down the narrow sidewalk. “The surname…”

The image of the chaotic lines on Dante’s whiteboard flashed in her head again: a merger diagram, names of influential families, arrows pointing from one to another, and there it was—the Alarics, Dante’s family name, sitting smugly at the top. Beneath it, branching out like roots of a tree, were other surnames. One of them had caught her eye back then, but she hadn’t thought much of it.

Now, it gnawed at her.

The name… it was familiar.

Her legs carried her aimlessly down the sidewalk as her brain whirled. Pulling out her phone, she hesitated for a moment. Should I even search for it?

Layla shook her head. No turning back now. She swiped the screen open and quickly tapped into the search bar.

Rheinhart.

It was the name—the surname—that had been scribbled under the Alarics. She had skimmed over it too fast, too overwhelmed by the other details at the time, but now she couldn’t let it go.

Her fingers hovered above the screen as the results loaded. News articles, business directories, and corporate press releases popped up first. Layla scrolled through them impatiently, her eyes scanning each headline.

“…Why does this feel so weirdly familiar?” Layla muttered under her breath.

Then she froze.

A name jumped out at her—Victor Rheinhart.

She blinked.

Victor.

Her thumb hovered in mid-air as her brain slowly connected the dots. Victor—Dante’s right-hand man. The tall, perpetually grumpy guy who always seemed to be glued to Dante’s shadow, barking orders and glaring at people like it was his job.

“No way,” Layla whispered, her heart suddenly racing. She stared at the screen, rereading the line as if it might change: Victor Rheinhart: COO of Rheinhart Holdings, affiliated with the Alarics Group.

She felt her stomach drop.

“Victor… Rheinhart?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

A cold wave washed over her. So, Victor wasn’t just Dante’s assistant or his go-to guy. He was part of all this—a Rheinhart, one of the families tangled up with the Alarics on that board. Suddenly, the terse look Victor always wore seemed more sinister.

Layla stuffed her phone back into her pocket and picked up her pace, her thoughts spiraling.

“This isn’t a coincidence,” she muttered, her voice edged with disbelief. “Victor’s family… they’re part of the problem. They’re involved.”

The pieces were starting to come together, but the picture they were forming was far from clear. If Victor’s family was in cahoots with the Alarics, did that mean he knew? Had he been helping Dante all along? Or was he just another pawn, like so many others, moving in whatever direction the Alarics pulled him?

Layla snorted bitterly.

“Yeah, right. Victor doesn’t look like anyone’s pawn,” she said under her breath. “He looks like he knows exactly what he’s doing.”

She stopped at a red light, her breath misting in the chilly air as her mind raced. What if the Rheinharts and the Alarics had been working together from the very beginning? What if they were the reason her father had lost everything? The betrayal, the loss—it could all lead back to them.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, startling her. She pulled it out and frowned. It was a text from Amel.

Amel: You free? Want to grab some coffee?

Layla bit her lip. She needed the distraction, but she couldn’t ignore what she’d just uncovered. Her mind was buzzing like a hive of bees. Still, she quickly typed back:

Layla: Yeah, meet you in 15.

She slid the phone back into her jacket and took a deep breath, looking up at the sky. Victor Rheinhart. The name echoed in her head like a warning bell.

“Just great,” Layla muttered, beginning to walk again. “The plot thickens. Who’s next? The janitor? The mailman? Everyone seems to have a foot in this stupid conspiracy.”

She kicked a small rock across the pavement, her expression darkening as new resolve bubbled inside her.

“I don’t care how powerful you all are,” Layla said quietly, her voice filled with determination. “The Alarics, the Rheinharts—all of you. You’re not going to get away with this.”

Her father’s voice echoed in her memory—all those warnings, all those stories he used to tell her late at night when she was a little girl. She’d never taken them seriously before.

But now?

Now she was starting to believe every word.

...

Layla’s steps slowed as she approached the station platform, her head buzzing with thoughts. The name she saw last week—the same surname as Victor—still haunted her. She had spent the entire morning scrolling through articles, pieces of history hidden between business mergers and corporate alliances. When Victor’s name popped up, everything seemed to click into place. So his family… they were involved too? Another piece of the puzzle fell into her hands, but it only raised more questions.

She exhaled sharply and shoved her phone into her bag, muttering, “Enough for today.”

The announcement for the incoming train echoed through the station, but it wasn’t the sound that made her stop in her tracks. From the corner of her eye, she saw a figure waving his hand high in the air, grinning widely. Her lips curled into an uncontrollable smile as she focused on him—Aiden.

He was standing there, looking exactly as she remembered him. His casual jacket was slightly wrinkled, his hair tousled, and that same boyish grin on his face. Six months apart, and it was as if nothing had changed.

“Aiden!” Layla shouted, her voice cracking slightly with excitement as she ran toward him.

Aiden opened his arms wide. “I’m here, troublemaker. Come here.”

She crashed into him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, holding on as if her life depended on it. Aiden chuckled softly, burying his face in her shoulder as he hugged her back just as tightly. For a moment, the station’s noise melted into a distant hum—all she could feel was his warmth and familiarity.

“You smell like engine oil,” she teased, voice muffled against his chest.

“And you smell like cleaning supplies. We’re a match made in heaven,” he quipped back.

Layla laughed and finally pulled away, looking up at him. “You look tired.”

“Occupational hazard,” Aiden replied, brushing a hand through his messy hair. “Long shifts, short breaks… the usual. But I’d work double shifts if it means I get to see you today.”

“Cheesy,” she muttered, but her smile didn’t waver.

Aiden grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together. “Come on. We’ve got a few hours, and I’m starving. I’m sure you haven’t eaten either, knowing you.”

“Don’t start,” Layla grumbled playfully as Aiden led her toward one of the small station canteen.

They sat at a corner table with plates of simple food between them. Layla stirred her drink absentmindedly, stealing glances at Aiden, who was munching on his meal with exaggerated satisfaction.

“What?” Aiden said with his mouth half full.

“Nothing.” Layla shrugged, leaning on her elbow as she watched him. “It’s just… I missed this. Us.”

Aiden grinned. “Me too. Believe me, staring at empty train tracks at midnight is pretty lonely. I talk to the trains sometimes. I think one of them waved back.”

Layla snorted, choking on her drink. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But it’s true,” Aiden replied, setting his fork down. His voice softened as he looked at her. “I missed you, Layla. Six months is too long.”

“Yeah.” Her smile faltered briefly, but she forced it back. “It’s hard, but we’re making it work, right?”

Aiden nodded slowly, his gaze steady. “We always do.”

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of other patrons chatting and the hum of distant trains. Then, as if deciding something, Aiden reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box, placing it on the table between them.

Layla froze. Her eyes darted between the box and Aiden’s suddenly serious face.

“Aiden… what—”

“Before you freak out,” Aiden interrupted with a small smile, “let me say something.”

He took a deep breath and looked straight into her eyes. “We’ve been through a lot, Layla. LDR sucks, my job keeps me away, and I know your life… hasn’t been easy either. But through all of it, you’ve been my constant. My best friend. My everything.”

Layla’s throat tightened as her chest swelled with emotion.

Aiden flipped open the box, revealing a simple silver ring that sparkled faintly under the station lights. “Marry me, Layla.”

Her heart stopped. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Aiden smiled nervously. “I know it’s sudden, and I probably should’ve done this somewhere more romantic than a train station canteen—”

“Yes!” Layla blurted out, her voice louder than she intended.

Aiden’s eyes widened. “Wait, really?”

“Of course, yes, you i***t!” Layla laughed, tears brimming in her eyes. She reached for the box, her hands trembling. “It’s been six years, Aiden. Who else would I say yes to?”

Aiden grinned so wide it looked like his face might split in two. He slipped the ring onto her finger and kissed her hand gently. “In six months, we’re doing this for real. I’ll come back, and I’ll marry you. No more long waits, no more distance.”

Layla nodded, wiping at her tears. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Aiden leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. “Whatever you’re dealing with, Layla, you’re not alone. I’ll always be here. Got it?”

Layla smiled softly, closing her eyes. For a moment, all the noise and stress in her life faded away. As long as she had Aiden, everything felt bearable.

“Got it,” she whispered.

And for the first time in weeks, Layla felt like she could breathe again.

....

Layla took a sip of her coffee, her eyes darting to the bustling café crowd around her before focusing back on Amel. The two of them had managed to carve out a sliver of time to meet on Layla’s day off. It felt good to sit and talk, but Layla couldn’t shake the constant hum of suspicion running in the back of her mind.

“So, how’s work been treating you lately?” Amel asked, leaning back in her chair, her tone casual but warm.

Layla hesitated. “Same old, same old. You know how it is,” she said with a shrug, dodging the question entirely. She wasn’t about to tell Amel about the proposal from Aiden. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her—she just couldn’t afford to let anyone get too close to what she was dealing with.

Instead, she shifted the conversation. “What about you? How’s everything on your end?”

Amel rolled her eyes, a faint grin tugging at her lips. “Busy. Cleaning up after people who don’t care about the effort you put in doesn’t exactly feel rewarding, you know?”

Layla chuckled softly. “Tell me about it.” She stirred her coffee, feigning distraction as she carefully plotted her next question. “Hey, speaking of work stuff, you’ve been around longer than I have… What’s the deal with Victor?”

Amel raised an eyebrow. “Victor?”

“Yeah,” Layla pressed, keeping her tone light. “He seems… really close to Dante. Like, always by his side. Has he always been like that?”

Amel nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. “Pretty much. Since the day Dante stepped into that CEO role, Victor’s been there. It’s like he’s his shadow or something.”

Layla’s mind raced. That lined up with what she’d seen and suspected. “Were they friends before that?”

“Well, I’m not sure about before the company. But I do know they’re tight. I mean, it’s not just a boss-employee thing. It’s more personal. They probably go way back,” Amel said, taking a sip of her drink.

Layla nodded, pretending to mull over the information casually. “Like, college maybe?”

“Could be,” Amel said with a shrug. “I wasn’t around back then, obviously, but it’d make sense. I don’t think they went to the same high school, though.”

Layla’s grip on her cup tightened ever so slightly. That was interesting. She’d gone to the same high school as Dante and didn’t remember Victor at all. If they hadn’t been friends during those years, then their connection must have started later. College? Some other circle? Either way, their bond seemed deeper than mere professionalism.

“Huh. Makes sense, I guess,” Layla said nonchalantly, her mind already spinning with possibilities. She filed away the information, making mental notes as if they were being etched into stone.

“Why all the curiosity about Victor, anyway?” Amel asked, her tone teasing. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a thing for him?”

Layla nearly choked on her coffee. “Oh, God, no,” she said quickly, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I was just… I don’t know. He’s around so much, and he’s kind of intense, you know? Just trying to figure him out, I guess.”

Amel laughed. “Fair enough. Yeah, he’s definitely intense. But honestly, if I were you, I’d steer clear of him. That guy’s got this vibe, like he’s always watching and calculating. Gives me the creeps sometimes.”

Layla smiled weakly, not letting on just how much she agreed. “Good advice,” she said.

They spent a few more minutes chatting about lighter topics, but Layla’s mind was elsewhere. The pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together, and Victor was beginning to look like a key part of it. If he and Dante were as close as Amel described, it made perfect sense for him to be involved in whatever had happened to her father’s company.

But how far back did their alliance go? And why did Victor seem so willing to play second fiddle to Dante? Layla’s thoughts were a storm, but she kept her expression calm. She couldn’t let Amel, or anyone else, see how deep her curiosity ran. For now, she had to play it cool—and keep collecting pieces to the puzzle.