A Perfect Illusion

05

The atmosphere in the company lobby was chaos. Layla was on the ground floor, mopping up a coffee spill when she noticed the palpable tension in the air. Employees were scurrying around, clutching files, their faces pale with urgency. Phones rang incessantly, some calls ending with frustrated employees snapping back at the person on the other end. Layla frowned, her hands gripping the mop tightly.

“What’s going on?” she muttered to herself, watching as several sleek black cars pulled up to the grand entrance of the building. Men in suits—bodyguards, Layla guessed—stepped out first, scanning the area. The employees around her suddenly straightened up, their backs ramrod straight, bowing slightly as the occupants of the cars began to emerge. The scene was surreal.

“Looks like royalty is visiting,” Layla mumbled sarcastically, rolling her eyes as she pushed her mop to the side.

Her moment of distraction proved costly. In her attempt to dodge a hurrying employee, Layla backed straight into someone, bumping them hard enough to make them stumble slightly.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” Layla turned quickly, horrified, to find herself face-to-face with an elegantly dressed woman in her late fifties. Her silk scarf was perfectly knotted, her pearls gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. Layla instantly knew this wasn’t just anyone.

Gasps erupted around her as several employees rushed over.

“Madam, are you alright?” one of them asked, practically tripping over themselves to assist.

“This girl should watch where she’s going!” another snapped, throwing a pointed glare at Layla.

Layla flushed crimson, her hands clutched tightly in front of her. “I’m really sorry, ma’am. I wasn’t looking. I didn’t mean to—”

The woman raised a hand, silencing everyone. Her eyes, sharp and discerning, settled on Layla.

“It’s fine,” she said, her voice smooth but commanding. “What’s your name, dear?”

Layla hesitated, thrown off by the sudden question. “Um, Layla. Layla Sienna Coppen.”

At the mention of her name, the woman’s eyes narrowed slightly, studying Layla with an intensity that made her shift uncomfortably.

Layla fidgeted with the edge of her mop, wondering why this stranger seemed so interested.

“Layla Sienna Coppen,” the woman repeated softly, as if testing the name on her tongue.

“Yes, ma’am,” Layla said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I… Can I ask why?”

The woman didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she stepped closer, her gaze softening. Her hand reached out, resting lightly on Layla’s shoulder.

“You have beautiful eyes,” she murmured, almost wistfully. “Hazel. Just like…” She trailed off, shaking her head as if dismissing a thought. “Be careful next time, alright?”

Layla nodded quickly, unsure of what else to say. “Yes, of course. Thank you.”

With a small, almost melancholic smile, the woman turned and walked away, her entourage falling into step behind her. Layla stared after her, rooted to the spot.

“Do you have any idea who that was?” Amel’s voice broke through her daze. Her coworker appeared at her side, wide-eyed and whispering furiously.

“No,” Layla said honestly, still watching the woman’s retreating figure.

“That was Mrs. Alaric,” Amel hissed, leaning closer. “Dante’s mother.”

Layla’s heart dropped.

“You’re kidding,” she said, her voice barely audible.

“I’m not! Why do you think everyone’s acting like their lives depend on this moment? She rarely comes here. This is huge.”

Layla’s mind raced. Dante’s mother. The woman who had just complimented her eyes and asked her name… Why had she looked at Layla like that? Why had she seemed so… familiar?

“Great,” Layla muttered under her breath, gripping her mop tightly as a wave of unease washed over her. “Just what I needed.”

...

Layla hurried to the executive floor, her mind racing. She hadn’t told anyone about her sudden change of location—it was too risky to involve anyone. She needed answers, and her instincts told her this was the place to start. As she grabbed a cleaning rag and a spray bottle, she quickly adopted the posture of someone just doing their job.

Her eyes scanned the area, alert for anything unusual.

While she was wiping down the large mahogany table in one of the open meeting spaces, the elevator doors at the end of the hall opened with a soft ding. Layla froze for a second before resuming her task, her movements deliberately slow. A group of high-ranking executives filed out, their faces taut with worry. Among them were Dante’s parents, Victor’s parents, and several other people Layla vaguely recognized from photographs she’d seen during her research. Their expressions were grim, their conversation clipped as they moved with purpose toward the large conference room at the end of the corridor.

Layla ducked her head, pretending to focus on a stubborn smudge on the table, but her ears strained to catch fragments of their hurried conversation. Just as the last of them stepped inside, she caught a snippet of dialogue before the heavy door shut firmly behind them.

“If this isn’t handled soon, the entire expansion project will collapse.”

“Involving the rail system is too risky. We can’t guarantee control over everything,” another voice countered, firm and laced with tension.

Layla’s breath hitched. The mention of “the rail system” sent her mind spiraling. Was this connected to the train project her father had once overseen? She hadn’t thought it was significant, but now…

As she reached for her notepad tucked into the cleaning cart, her heart pounded. Quickly, she jotted down the fragments she’d overheard:

Expansion project at risk.

Rail system = risky? Connection to Dad?

Decision-makers: Dante’s father, Victor’s family involved?

Layla was so engrossed in her notes that she didn’t notice someone approaching until a cheerful voice startled her. “You’re working so hard! Good job, dear.”

Layla jumped slightly and looked up, her eyes meeting those of an elegant woman in her mid-50s. The woman’s smile was warm but carried an air of quiet authority. She wore a simple yet expensive blouse and carried herself with the grace of someone used to commanding attention.

“Oh, uh, thank you,” Layla stammered, quickly tucking her notepad into her pocket.

“What’s your name?” the woman asked, her eyes scanning Layla’s face as if trying to place her.

“Layla, ma’am,” she replied, hesitating for a moment before adding, “Layla Sienna Coppen.” She deliberately left out her father’s surname.

The woman’s smile deepened. “What a beautiful name. And those eyes of yours… hazel, aren’t they? They’re stunning, truly.”

Layla blinked, taken aback by the comment. “Uh, thank you,” she murmured, unsure of how to respond.

“You remind me of someone,” the woman said softly, almost to herself. She gave Layla’s shoulder a gentle pat. “Be careful, dear. It’s a busy day. Don’t let anyone push you around.”

Layla managed a nod, and the woman walked away, disappearing down the hall. As soon as she was out of sight, Layla let out a shaky breath. Something about the encounter felt off, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

“Weird,” she muttered under her breath. Shaking her head, she turned back to her cleaning cart, only to catch a glimpse of the woman’s name tag before she rounded a corner.

Mrs. Hannah Rheinhart.

Layla froze. Rheinhart… Victor’s last name.

“Oh, come on,” she whispered harshly to herself. “What is it with these people? Why are they all so…” She trailed off, her thoughts spiraling again. First Dante’s mother, now Victor’s. Both women had singled her out in the span of a few days, and neither encounter felt like a coincidence.

“Keep it together,” Layla muttered as she grabbed her cleaning supplies. But the nagging feeling in her gut wouldn’t go away.

Hannah's words and her lingering gaze felt loaded with meaning Layla couldn’t yet decipher. She made a mental note to look into the Rheinhart family when she got home. Whatever was going on, it was bigger than she had imagined, and she needed to stay ahead of it.

...

The rain poured heavily, drenching Layla as she navigated through the poorly lit alleyway. Her soaked hoodie clung to her skin, and her sneakers squelched with every step. “Damn it,” she muttered under her breath, pulling the hood tighter over her head as a gust of wind blew cold rain onto her face. “Couldn’t they pick a better night for this? Bloody typical.”

The alley ended in front of a rusted metal door with streaks of water cascading down its surface. Layla hesitated, glancing around the deserted surroundings. She inhaled sharply, muttering, “Here goes nothing,” before knocking on the door three times, just as instructed.

The sound echoed into the silence, followed by a brief pause. Then the door creaked open just enough for two hulking figures to step into view. Their shadows loomed over her, and Layla instinctively took a step back, her heart racing.

The man on the left squinted at her through the rain. “Who the hell are you?” his gravelly voice demanded.

Layla rolled her eyes, masking her unease with irritation. “Relax, I’m expected,” she snapped. “Name’s Sienna.”

The second man, who looked even more imposing, crossed his arms. “Sienna who?”

“For crying out loud,” she groaned. “Layla Sienna. Your boss’s kid.”

The first man exchanged a glance with his companion before stepping aside. “Alright, go in,” he said gruffly.

Layla raised an eyebrow, sarcasm dripping from her tone. “Gee, thanks for the warm welcome.” She stepped past them, shaking off some of the rainwater from her hoodie. “Nice weather we’re having, by the way.”

Inside, the air was musty and stale, a stark contrast to the rain-washed freshness outside. The space was dimly lit by a single flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling. Stacks of crates and rusting equipment filled the room, giving it an abandoned, eerie vibe.

The two men followed her in, closing the door behind them with a loud metallic clang. Layla couldn’t help but flinch slightly but quickly straightened up, pretending she was unfazed.

“You’re late,” one of them said, leaning against the door.

“No kidding,” Layla shot back. “You try walking through a storm to this charming little hideout. Bet you’d be late too.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Anyway, where is he?”

The men exchanged another glance before one of them jerked his thumb toward the back of the room. “Through that door,” he said. “Don’t waste his time.”

Layla muttered under her breath, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” She started toward the indicated door but paused just before opening it, turning back to the men.

“By the way,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her words, “maybe next time you can install a red carpet or something. Really complete the vibe.”

The larger man snorted, but the other just shook his head, muttering, “Kids these days.”

Layla pushed open the creaky door and stepped into another room. It was slightly better lit, with a single desk in the center and a figure seated behind it, his face obscured by the low light.

Her father stood at the center of the room, his posture commanding yet oddly relaxed. But it wasn’t just him—there was someone else. A woman. Layla squinted, trying to make sense of what she was seeing through the dim light. The woman turned slightly, and Layla’s heart plummeted.

Hannah.

Her mouth went dry. Victor’s mother? The same woman she’d met earlier at the company—the one who had smiled so warmly at her and seemed so composed. Now here she was, standing close to her father, leaning into him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Layla’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her mind racing.

What the hell is she doing here?

Before Layla could say anything, Hannah turned and… smiled. The warmth in her expression was unsettlingly genuine as she stepped toward Layla.

“Layla,” Hannah said, her voice soft and soothing. “You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman.”

Layla’s eyes darted between her father and Hannah. Her father’s face betrayed no surprise, only a calmness that made her stomach churn. “What is this?” Layla demanded, her voice sharper than she intended. “What is she doing here?”

“Careful,” her father said, his tone firm yet amused. “Hannah is an ally.”

Layla’s eyebrows shot up. “An ally? You mean the same Hannah who’s part of Victor’s family? The same family that’s been screwing us over?”

Hannah flinched slightly but recovered quickly. She stepped closer to Layla, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. Layla stiffened.

“It’s true,” Hannah said quietly. “I’m part of that family by blood, but not by loyalty.”

Layla’s jaw tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her father cut in, his voice laced with a rare hint of affection. “It means she’s not one of them. Not truly. She’s been working against them from the inside for years.”

Hannah’s lips curved into a sad smile as she looked at Layla. “I’ve made sacrifices you can’t even begin to imagine. All for your father. For this.”

Layla’s stomach turned as she watched Hannah step back toward her father. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek, murmuring something Layla couldn’t hear. The sight made her want to scream. It felt wrong. All of it.

“This can’t be real,” Layla muttered under her breath. She stared at them, unable to reconcile what she was seeing. Hannah, Victor’s mother, is working with my father? Her thoughts raced, trying to untangle the web of alliances and betrayals.

Hannah turned back to her, her eyes filled with an intensity that made Layla shiver. “Layla, you don’t have to trust me,” she said.

“But trust your father. He knows what he’s doing.”

Layla opened her mouth to argue but stopped when Hannah stepped forward and kissed her on the cheek. It was quick, almost motherly, and it made Layla’s skin crawl.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” Hannah whispered, “to protect him. And you.”

Layla blinked, utterly speechless. Her father chuckled, clearly amused by her reaction.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said casually, as if the situation were completely normal.

Layla took a step back, shaking her head. “I… I need air.” Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and walked out, her mind spinning.

As she stepped back into the rain, Layla’s thoughts were a chaotic storm. Unexpected didn’t even begin to cover it. She had walked into the warehouse expecting answers, but now she had even more questions. And one chilling realization lingered in her mind:

Nothing is as it seems.