Replaced by His First Love, I Found a Better Match

Chapter 8

The moment the bedside lamp went dark, Layla opened her eyes and listened to the mattress sink beside her.

Gavin lay with his back to her, and his breathing soon settled into an even rhythm. He truly believed her silence meant surrender.

On Saturday, Layla woke early to return to Maple Hollow and visit her mother's grave. To her surprise, someone else was already up.

When Sabrina saw her coming downstairs, she asked pointedly, "Oh, Ms. Bennett, you're up early. We didn't wake you, did we?"

Layla shook her head. "No."

Sabrina smiled. "Good."

So this was the business Gavin had mentioned. Taking the woman he loved and her son to an amusement park was clearly more important than going with Layla to her mother's grave.

Gavin had been watching Layla from the start, waiting for a reaction. She was calm and compliant, the exact behavior he had always preferred, yet an inexplicable pressure weighed on his chest.

He set down his fork and knife and actually offered an explanation. "Milo is young and gets restless at home. Since it's Saturday, I'm taking him to the amusement park."

Layla no longer cared, so why did both of them insist on explaining themselves as if her opinion mattered? If it truly mattered, they wouldn't be doing this in the first place.

Her phone began ringing.

Olivia was calling.

Layla swallowed a few hurried bites of oatmeal, grabbed a sandwich, and strode toward the door. "I have somewhere to be. I'm leaving."

Gavin froze. A strange panic seized him, and his feet moved before his mind caught up. He immediately followed her outside.

"Layla!" he called loudly. "Where are you going?"

Layla paused and looked back at him. "Do you know what today is?"

Gavin's eyes widened slightly. "What is it?"

The corner of Layla's mouth lifted. "Nothing." Without looking back again, she opened the door of the car waiting at the curb and slid inside.

Gavin stood before the empty gates and watched the car disappear, a vast hollowness opening inside his chest.

He had clearly recognized Olivia's car, and he was absolutely certain Layla could never leave him.

Yet for some reason, an unfamiliar sense of helplessness rose like a tide and swallowed him whole.

Once they had driven some distance, Olivia glanced at the shrinking figure in the rearview mirror and spat in disgust.

Layla was still eating her sandwich. She smiled. "Forget him. Don't let someone irrelevant ruin our day."

Olivia agreed and shifted the conversation to the proposal. "So, how confident are you about it?"

Layla answered honestly. "About 60%."

"What? Only 60%?"

"Yes. I studied Stratos Group's RFP carefully. The technical requirements are extremely demanding. Some of the features will probably need to be custom-built before we can meet the specifications."

Olivia clicked her tongue. "Stratos Group is that demanding? Who are these people?"

Layla shook her head. "I don't know much. Only that Stratos Group carries enormous influence in Ashbourne and the man in charge is a Sinclair."

Layla looked out the window, briefly lost in thought.

2 hours later, the car entered Maple Hollow. Layla's mother was buried in a cemetery beyond town. After following several winding roads through the hills, they finally stopped.

Layla took a bouquet of white lilies from the back seat. Her mother had been a simple homemaker who always kept their house spotless. Now that she was resting here, Layla wanted the space around her headstone to look beautiful too.

Olivia approached the grave and stood in respectful silence. Then, with quiet consideration, she returned to the car at the bottom of the hill and left Layla alone. Layla crouched before the headstone and touched the photograph of the smiling woman. "Mom, I'm getting divorced. You said if I'm unhappy, just leave without hesitation. You told me not to spend half my life wavering the way you did—only to end up with a life in ruins. I don't regret loving him. He really was a wonderful man once. Oh, and I fought with Dad. I don't want to take care of him anymore. He has his own family now, and I need to live my own life too. You don't blame me, do you?"

A spring breeze swept through the cemetery, lifting several white petals and scattering them through her hair.

A hand with long, well-defined fingers caught the green-stone pendant as it slipped from her bag before Layla even realized it had fallen.

She spun around. Damian stood half a step behind her. The wind pressed his black shirt against his waist and abdomen, outlining the hard, solitary lines of his body. "It's been 10 years."

His voice was soft, as though he feared shattering something fragile, yet it carried enough weight to make Layla's heart tremble.

Layla stood, but dizziness from low blood sugar made her sway. Damian reached out and steadied her, his palm burning hot. The instant she regained her balance, he withdrew with careful restraint.

"Damian, back then, you..."

"I know," he interrupted her and lifted his eyes to hers. They were deeper and colder than Gavin's, like a bottomless frozen lake with a hidden flame burning far beneath the surface. "That's why I have no right to ask about the last 10 years."

After a pause, he returned the pendant. Their fingertips brushed, and Layla recoiled as if burned, but the pendant was already pressed into her palm.

"But Layla..." Damian's smile surfaced from nowhere, cold in the eyes, carrying an obsessive, almost dangerous certainty. "The mark on your ring finger is awfully faint."

Layla's breath stopped. Her phone suddenly vibrated wildly inside her bag, its shrill ringtone tearing through the cemetery's silence.

Damian's gaze shifted from her face to her bag, his lips tightening into a cold line.

Layla looked down. Two words flashed across the screen: Weston Estate.