THE BILLIONAIRE'S COSTLY MISTAKE

CHAPTER FOUR

We moved to Blake's country, where I rented a small house using the money I had.

I didn’t stop there. I went ahead and used the money meant for my education and future to sponsor Blake through university. I carried all the financial burden in our relationship. Not once did I complain. I loved Blake and he loved me. That was all that mattered to me.

I didn’t bother enrolling in college again because I knew the money wouldn’t be enough for both our dreams. It could have sent us both to school, but we’d have nothing left afterward. I couldn’t risk that. So, I let him be the one to get educated.

I was the proudest woman alive when he graduated. Head in the clouds, I attended his graduation party with his family, bursting with pride.

“I am so proud of you. You make me the happiest woman on earth,” I told him, grinning from ear to ear.

“And you make me the happiest man on earth. I love you, Layla.”

I couldn’t believe my eyes when he got down on one knee and proposed.

It was after that moment I learned the truth about Blake’s background. He wasn’t the pauper I believed he was. He was the son of a millionaire whose empire crumbled due to bad business decisions.

Blake was to take over the crumbling family business after graduation. That’s when my final plan kicked in.

I gave him five million dollars to invest in his father’s company to help revive it.

That was all the money I had left and I gave it to him out of love. I wanted him to know that I believed in him and would always stand by him.

“I don’t deserve this,” he said, tears brimming as I handed him the check.

“You deserve only the best in the world, and I would give that to you,” I replied as he hugged me, crying on my shoulder.

His family was ecstatic when they heard the news. They treated me like royalty to show their appreciation.

Blake invested the money into his father’s company, and under his smart leadership, the business soared again. The Andersons regained their status and power.

He tried to pay me back, but I refused. I believed what was his was mine too.

Hoping my brother would finally be impressed by Blake’s success, I decided to call him after years of silence.

“Hello, brother,” I greeted cheerfully over the phone, bouncing on my feet.

“Layla? Is that you?” my brother asked, his voice sharp with suspicion. “Where have you been? Did that poor fool finally dump you? Is that why you're calling?”

His assumption infuriated me. I barely managed to keep my composure.

“He didn’t dump me. We’re engaged and planning our wedding. I just wanted you to know Blake is now a millionaire. You don’t have to hate him anymore. The partnership you wanted? It can happen through his company, after we get married.”

“You’re obviously still out of your mind. Don’t call me again until you realize Blake isn’t worthy of you. When you’re ready to leave him, you know where to find me.”

That was the last time I spoke to my brother. I chose Blake over the only family member I had left.

The door to the storage room suddenly burst open, snapping me out of my thoughts. Blake rushed in, a look of guilt and sorrow painted across his face.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I’ve been so busy taking care of Camilla, I forgot I locked you down here.”

I tried to speak, but I was exhausted, weak, and on the verge of tears.

He rushed to help me up, lifting me in his arms bridal style.

“Today’s the wedding. Camila is such a kind soul. Everything was ready, and then she remembered her bridesmaid. She refused to go on without you. You're lucky to have a friend like her.”

A piercing scream echoed through the house, unmistakably Camila’s.

“Camila!” Blake yelled, panic flashing in his eyes.

He dropped me…literally. I hit the floor with a loud thud. I groaned, holding my head, which took most of the impact.

Dizziness overwhelmed me. My vision blurred.

“Get your lazy ass off the ground. If anything goes wrong today, I’ll make you pay. Everything you need is in the guest room. Put it on, look your best, and join us in an hour.”

He rushed off to tend to Camila, leaving me crumpled on the floor.

Weakly, I crawled toward the kitchen. Thankfully, I didn’t see anyone. They were probably off taking photos before heading to the church.

Using the counter for support, I pulled myself up.

I needed water. My throat felt like I had swallowed a bucket of sand.

I staggered to the refrigerator and found a bottle, half-empty, pink, and customized. It was Camila’s. The label said so. It was her mineral water.

I knew I'd be punished for drinking it, but I didn’t care. My mind was too fuzzy. I grabbed a glass, poured some, and was about to drink when a hand yanked it away.

It was Camila, dolled up, glowing, and wearing my dream wedding dress.

“I wish he left you in there forever. You don’t deserve to live. I hate you,” she hissed, her eyes burning with venom.

“What did I ever do to you?” I asked weakly, stunned that someone I’d called my best friend for nearly four years harbored such hatred.

She only shrugged, swirling the water in the cup like poison in a goblet.

I walked away, heading to the guest room. I’d drink from the bathroom sink to survive.

After quenching my thirst, I cleaned up and dressed.

I heard a scream, loud and undeniably Camila’s, but I ignored it.

Later, a knock came on the guest room door. When I opened it, fully dressed and ready, I was met by two officers flashing their badges.

“Miss Layla Smith,” one of them said sternly, “you’re under arrest for the attempted murder of Camila Wade.”