Layla stood alone at the center of the wedding stage, perfect in her gown. There should have been two people under the lights. Instead, the man who was supposed to be beside her saying "I do" had walked out on her to rescue the woman he'd never gotten over and her son from the family trying to drag them away.
As the guests whispered around her, Layla forced her fingers to stay still and called Gavin. Once. Twice... He finally answered—she said only one word, "Divorce."
On the other end of the line, Gavin's normally gentle expression hardened. "Layla, stop making a scene."
Layla held the phone, a humorless smile curving her lips.
Ridiculous?' She had spent 6 months choosing the venue, drafting the guest list, and designing the favors for this wedding. Then, halfway through the ceremony, Sabrina Cole, the woman Gavin had loved but never had, landed in Bayhaven with her son, only to face being seized by her late husband's family. Gavin hadn't hesitated.—he'd left Layla in her wedding gown and every guest behind.
The wedding she had poured her heart into had become a spectacle, and the man who had promised her a perfect celebration had broken his word.
A sharp pain in her stomach jerked Layla back to the present. She hadn't had a bite to eat or a drop to drink all day. After splashing cold water on her face, she headed downstairs. The moment she reached the landing, she found the household staff huddled in the living room. They fell silent when they saw her, their faces full of pity.
Nancy Miller stepped forward. "Mrs. Weston, there's hot soup in the kitchen. Would you like me to bring you some?"
Layla had just nodded when a car pulled up outside. Gavin was home.
Gavin's warm voice carried through the living room. "Sabrina, Milo, this is your home now."
Layla looked up. Gavin strode inside in a custom black suit, followed by a woman and a young boy. The woman's shoulder-length curls framed a sweet, innocent face, and two pretty dimples appeared when she smiled.
When Gavin met Layla's eyes, his voice turned cool. He wasn't asking permission. He was informing her. "Layla, this is Sabrina and her son, Milo Brooks. They'll be staying with us for a while."
Layla simply watched him, neither agreeing nor objecting. An eerie silence settled over the living room.
Sabrina bit her lip and tugged Milo toward the door, the fragile victim. "I'm sorry, Gavin. I should've known better. I forgot today was the big day for you and Ms. Bennett."
She hadn't called Layla Gavin's wife or Mrs. Weston. She had deliberately called her Ms. Bennett. Sabrina's hostility was palpable.
Gavin didn't correct Sabrina—he caught her by the arm and spoke gently, "This isn't your fault. There's nowhere in Bayhaven safer than my home."
"But this is the home you share with Ms. Bennett..."
"No buts. This is my house." Gavin's tone ended the discussion.
Layla let out a cold laugh from the stairs.
The day they received their marriage certificate 3 years ago, Gavin had told her this was their new home, that she was in charge, and that everyone in the house, including him, would answer to her.
It was the first romantic thing he'd ever said to her—Layla had spent the rest of the day blushing over it.
Now he was saying, "This is my house. If I say you can stay, then you can stay."
After settling Sabrina and Milo into the guest room, Gavin sat on the couch and rubbed his brow. "Layla, be reasonable. I'm exhausted. The Brooks family is trying to take Milo—I'm the only person they'll listen to. Don't worry. You'll always be Mrs. Weston. No one can take your place."
"Then why did Sabrina come back?" Layla cut him off coldly. "Wouldn't she have been better off staying overseas?"
Gavin froze, then frowned and looked away. "There are things I can't tell you. Layla, are you jealous?"
Layla stepped away from his outstretched. Her eyes were glacial. "Sorry. I'm tired. I'm going upstairs."
Watching her walk away, Gavin shook his head. She was only upset—she'd loved him since high school. She could never leave.
Just then, Nancy emerged with a bowl of fresh mushroom soup. "Mr. Weston, this is the last serving. I saved it for Mrs. Weston."
"Gavin, Milo says he's hungry." Sabrina leaned out of the upstairs guest room.
Gavin didn't hesitate. He took the bowl and handed it to Sabrina. "Layla's an adult. Missing one serving won't hurt her. Feed Milo first."
Inside the master bedroom, Layla shut the door and sealed out the noise downstairs.
On the phone, her best friend, Olivia Grant, was furious. "Gavin Weston is such a bastard! Layla, do you know what his friends are saying? You're Sabrina's replacement—he only married you because the dimple in your left cheek reminds him of her! Why haven't you divorced him already?"
Standing before the mirror, Layla traced the dimple in her left cheek, her expression perfectly calm. "I know. I'll get divorced." Layla stared at her reflection, her voice quiet but resolute. "He'll never cooperate, though. I'll have to find another way."
After a brief pause, she swept her wedding ring off the vanity and into the back of a drawer.