Layla's pov
It started with a phone call.
Not a number I recognized—just a cold, unknown string of digits lighting up my screen.
I almost didn’t answer.
But something about it… something about the way my stomach twisted in knots told me this wasn’t a mistake.
“Hello?” I said cautiously.
There was a pause. Then a deep voice spoke, calm but edged in steel.
“Meet me at Pier 13. Come alone. If you want the truth about Damian… don’t be late.”
Click.
That was it.
No name. No reason. Just that cryptic message—and one name I hadn’t heard in years.
Kent Enterprises.
The phone nearly slipped from my fingers. That name stirred up memories I had buried. Whispers in my father’s study. My stepmother’s hushed arguments. Even Damian’s face, carefully blank whenever the name came up, like he w
