Fall for My Face? Or My Soul?

Chapter 2 Make Sure She Lives

Layla's POV:

I forced myself to push the nightmare from my mind, trying to calm the tremors in my hands.

I couldn't believe it. I was still alive, and somehow, Catherine, my beauty consultant, had found me and saved me from that hell.

But what about Emilia? The thought of her tore at me again, the pain and unease fresh and raw.

"Where's Emilia?" The thought of her, her pale face, and her final words haunted me. I asked, my voice shaky as I grabbed Catherine's hand, the words spilling out in a frantic rush.

Catherine's face fell, her eyes soft with sorrow. She stepped closer, her voice low and heavy with grief. "I'm so sorry... When I found you, she was already gone."

We'd known each other for years, and Catherine understood better than anyone just how important Emilia was to me.

I let go of Catherine's hand slowly, my fingers loosening their grip until my hand dropped limply.

Even though I knew this outcome was inevitable, I couldn't stop the wave of grief that hit me.

She was only 19, still a young girl, really, a life that should have bloomed like a flower, now completely erased because of me, because of my choices. Those two demons had stolen her future, torn it apart without a second thought.

"It's all my fault... It's all my fault..."

Guilt and frustration flooded me in an overwhelming rush. My tears slid down my face, stinging the raw wounds there. The pain was unbearable, but it couldn't compare to the agony that shredded my chest. It was an ache so deep, so excruciating, it felt as though my heart might break in two.

"Layla, listen to me. This isn't your fault. It's those bastards' fault!"

Catherine wrapped her arms around me, pulling my head to her chest. Her touch was steady, grounding me as she murmured comforting words into my ear, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside me.

Her words cut through the chaos in my mind, bringing a flicker of clarity.

Emilia was gone, but those monsters didn't deserve to walk the earth!

"I'm going to the police," I said, my voice shaking with fury. "I'll make sure those bastards pay. I'll have them torn apart!"

I tried to stand, but my legs were like jelly, too weak to hold me up. I stumbled, nearly collapsing, but Catherine caught me just in time, steadying me before I could fall.

I leaned against her, my body still trembling with sobs, my chest heaving with every breath.

'I couldn't even stand on my own. How pathetic is that? I am so useless.'

End of Layla's POV

At the Field Manor, Carl Ellis, the secretary, set a stack of papers down on the desk, his expression tense as he turned toward the man seated behind it.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but... I still haven't located Ms. Glen."

Orlando's fingers froze over the photograph, the image of him and Layla on their engagement day.

They looked perfect together, him handsome and composed, her stunning and radiant.

Her skin was like porcelain, and her hair was like golden silk. Her eyes sparkled like sapphires, a mixture of purity and seduction.

Her smile was warm, full of life, while his face remained as serious as ever.

No one would have guessed that beneath that, their union was nothing more than a cold, calculated transaction.

Orlando needed a wife. The Glen family needed money. They offered their daughter in exchange.

That was the simplicity of it all.

"I see," Orlando replied, his voice cold, tinged with an edge of authority. His gaze returned to the photograph of Layla.

She'd been the partner in their arrangement, and yet, it seemed she had no respect for the deal.

For the Field family, the bride's disappearance on the wedding day was not just an embarrassment. It was a tremendous insult.

Just then, the television on the wall flickered to life, showing a news conference.

Amanda, red-eyed and tear-streaked, stood in front of the cameras, her arm wrapped in bandages.

Donald was at her side, his face twisted with feigned sorrow as he spoke into the microphone, "My sister ran off on her wedding day with someone else. My wife tried to stop her and was attacked. This disgraceful behavior has shamed our family, and I reserve the right to take legal action against her!"

The screen then flashed an image of Layla, accompanied by a reward notice.

Orlando couldn't help but sneer, a cruel, mocking smile. 'How foolish I had been to trust her, to believe she would be any different from Donald, that hypocritical bastard.'

He handed the photograph to Carl. "Get rid of this. I don't want to see it again."

Layla's POV:

I stared at the screen, at Donald and Amanda's cruel faces, the anger boiling inside me. If I could crush this damn remote in my hands, I would.

This was insane, like something out of a bad soap opera. It was more dramatic than anything I'd ever acted in.

Whether or not Donald knew what Amanda had done, his actions now were no different from those of an accomplice.

"Those bastards!" I muttered, my chest heaving with rage.

I threw the remote onto the couch. My chest was heaving with the intensity of my rage. My mind was a blur, each thought tangled in a mess of anger and betrayal.

"I'm going to the police. I'll clear my name. I won't let them slander me like this!"

I started searching frantically around the room, desperate to find a phone, any phone, to make a call, to do something.

"Sweetheart, I understand how you feel," Catherine said softly, her voice a soothing balm.

She handed me a cup of warm milk, her calm demeanor always so much more grounded than my own. "But going to the police right now won't help you."

"I don't care. The worst that can happen is that we all go down together."

I nearly screamed the words, letting the anger, frustration, and helplessness spill out of me.

"Amanda wouldn't go to such lengths to frame you unless she's prepared. What if you fail to defend yourself and get caught? What about your mother, then? And Emilia, up in Heaven... She wouldn't want you to take such a risk either!"

Catherine's voice was sharp with urgency. She was scared. I could hear it. She was afraid I might do something reckless.

A chill ran through me, and for the first time, a flicker of fear rose inside. No matter how bitter the truth tasted, I had to admit Catherine was right.

I couldn't tell if this was some kind of trap or if they were trying to lure me into a false move, only to kill me once I showed myself.

I had already been branded with the mark of a villain. If I went out in public now and tried to tell the truth, how many people would actually believe me? I didn't dare to think about it.

And then there was Orlando... Would he ever forgive me, the woman who had betrayed him?

"So... what am I supposed to do?"

I raked my fingers through my hair in frustration, gulping down the milk in one long swig as if to drown out the hopelessness.

The motion pulled at the cuts on my face, and I gritted my teeth against the sharp pain.

My cheek still carried the deep scars from the rocks I'd crashed into, but at least I was alive.

If it hadn't been for Catherine's medical expertise, there was a real chance I wouldn't be here at all.

It was Emilia, in her final moments, who had sent a message to Catherine, asking her to save me before taking a bullet meant for me.

That poor girl, sacrificing herself for me at the very end of her life... but all I could do now was leave her alone, locked away in the cold cellar of Catherine's house.

"Darling, I think I have an idea!"

Catherine's voice softened, her hand brushing my face in a tender, comforting gesture. Her smile, though faint, had an almost reassuring warmth to it. "Don't you see? Your faces are almost identical to Emilia's. Maybe this is where my skills can finally be of use."

I froze, not quite understanding her words.

"You were right before," she continued, her voice filled with determination. "Emilia shouldn't have died. We're going to make sure she lives!"