We walk a little farther down the hall.
“It’s room 432, sir.”
I see Steward sitting outside of a room, which leads me to believe that it’s room 432. Steward rises to his feet when he spots us walking up.
“Mr. Kingsley,” Steward greets me.
“Steward.”
He turns, knocks on the door, and waits for a response before he opens it for me. I nod at him as I walk past him and motion for Sean to enter the room with me. Layla looks tiny in the already small hospital bed; her face is bruised and swollen, and her hair looks dull and messy. I have never seen her like this before. Her face is devoid of makeup, and the look painted on her face is one of remorse.
“Hello Mika,” she squeaks.
“Layla.”
The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. The room falls silent, each of us waiting for the other to begin speaking. I want to get this over with. I want answers, but I also want to get back to Raeva soon, too.
“I was told you wanted to talk to me?” I say impatiently.
She nods. Her eyes flash over to Sean.
“You can say anything you want to say to me in front of him,” I say dryly.
More silence. I walk farther into the room and take a seat in the chair across from the bed, scooting it backward to create some distance. I lean forward, lean my elbows on my thighs, and lace my fingers together. She has yet to directly look at me. She’s currently looking down and biting her bottom lip in what I assume is an attempt to try and keep herself from crying. I clear my throat, and she finally looks up. She nods her head.
“The social worker told me that you and Mikaela are paying for my hospital bills…I don’t need—I mean, thank you—but I can pay my own bills.”
“Is that why you wanted to see me, Layla?” I say, unable to hide my irritation.
She shakes her head no.
“I gotta tell you, Layla. I don’t give a fuck about bills and who will pay for them. Mikaela is the one who wants to use the family money to pay your bill because Sims claims that you are our sister. And Mikaela thinks that family comes first, no matter what bullshit you pulled. I agreed about letting her use the family funds to pay your bill to make her happy and because I know that Raeva would want me to agree. I, however, am not ready to sit here and chit chat with you like we are old friends. You almost got the woman I love and your alleged sister killed. I’m not as forgiving as Mikaela and Raeva.”
I lean forward and make sure that we lock eyes.
“So cut the bullshit and get to the point, Layla. I need to get back to Raeva.”
She nods again.
“They tell me she saved my life. She didn’t have to do that. After everything…” her voice trails off.
She shakes it off and continues talking.
“The point is, Raeva is the real deal. She came because I tricked her into thinking I was going to kill you. She came to try and save you with no regard for her own safety. And because of what she did for me, saving me, I owe you some answers. My aunt…she told me that Raeva was some cold-hearted gold digger. I thought that aunt Maggie told me the truth about your family. In my defense, she has been basically brainwashing us all our lives. I’m not sure if you know who Jasper and Cassandra Clayton were?”
I’m not sure where she’s going with this, but I’m losing patience.
“Am I supposed to?”
“I suppose not,” she tells me, obviously disappointed. “Cassandra Clayton was born Cassandra Lawson, the sole heir of Lawson International.”
Now that attracts my attention. Lawson International is one of the companies that is part of Kingsley Industry’s portfolio, and it has been since before I took over as CEO. I raise my eyebrow.
“Lawson International is Kingsley Industry’s biggest competitor, and it was acquired via hostile takeover by your father. But before he was able to do that he seduced my mother, who let him talk her out of company secrets and gave him access to a lot of information. I have read her diaries over and over. He pursued her relentlessly; he said all the right things, and from what I understand, he was quite the lover. She couldn’t stop seeing him, even though she claimed to love her husband in her diaries. The affair went on for quite some time, and my mother got pregnant with me. Your dad talked her into letting Jasper think he was the father, and he told her that until he could take over her father’s company as CEO and get out from under his father’s thumb, he would not be able to leave his wife and be with her. She basically handed the company to him on a silver platter, and as soon as she did, he dumped her as if she was nothing. He told her that I would never be accepted as a Kingsley and that she should let Jasper think that I was his. He told her she was stupid to think that he would ever leave your mother for the likes of her. He destroyed her, Mika. She confessed her sins to Jasper, who already was heavily drinking after losing the company he had given his blood, sweat, and tears to. He adored my mother and worshipped the ground she walked on, and she betrayed him. He couldn’t handle it, and he took his own life. She was barely pregnant with me at the time, and she couldn’t bear to keep me, but she didn’t want to give me away. So she gave me to Jasper’s sister to raise because she wasn’t able to have children of her own, and she begged for the chance to have a baby. After that, my mom was never the same. She started drinking heavily, and she was obsessed with trying to win your father back. When it became clear to her that she wasn’t going to succeed, she went after your mother.” She sighs. “And that is when your father came for her. He destroyed her. He emptied out all her bank accounts, he threatened her children, and he told her he would take us all away and make sure we were put in the system. He told her she was nothing, that he just fucked her for information, that she was easy, and that she was nothing more than a whore who fucked a man while married to another. That night, she drank the entire contents of her liquor cabinet, and she slit her wrists.”
She stops speaking for a moment, the memory of her mother taking her own life obviously still an open wound. She sighs and closes her eyes.
“Samantha and Sam tried to rush her to the hospital. They were driving as fast as they could, but it was raining and Sam lost control of the car. They wrecked, and Samantha, and Mom died on impact. Sam never got over that, so when Aunt Maggie told us that there was somebody to blame, we held on to that. She promised us revenge, she promised us more money than God, and she promised us satisfaction. I changed my identity, and Aunt Maggie helped put me through school, all in preparation to destroy the Kingsleys. We figured that the rich will always have secrets, and who gets better access to information than a shrink?”
She smiles bitterly and shakes her head.
“After your mother’s death and after your father disappeared, we kind of didn’t know how to proceed at first. But Aunt Maggie was convinced that you were just like your father and that you were hiding him. To be honest, you didn’t exactly give the impression that you were very different from your father, especially where women are concerned.”
She doesn’t even look at me. She is recounting out loud, and I’m not even sure if it’s for her benefit or mine.
“I tried to get close to Mikaela to get close to you, but you were impossible to get close to. I learned what I could from Mikaela and tried to use it against you. Just when I was about to throw in the towel, she confessed to putting up your father behind your back. Aunt Maggie got herself appointed as director of Hillcrest, and you even approved it. You are a main benefactor, which is why we assumed for a long time you were involved in hiding your father. Mikaela never told me which patient it was, so we had Sam—who was already watching the pair of you—come and be our inside man. He figured out that it was Mr. King who is, in fact, your father. Aunt Maggie assigned Raeva to him because we thought you knew and would freak out if your girlfriend was taking care of your father…”
It physically makes me sick to think that Raeva has been close enough to this foul man to get in his clutches.
“B
ut nothing, and then Sam he—well, you know what happened. He fell in love with Raeva, and he was convinced she loved him, too. He was going to talk. He was going to tell the cops everything. He told me as much, and I told Aunt Maggie because I didn’t know what to do. Next thing I know, he was murdered. Aunt Maggie told me that it was you, and that only fueled my anger and determination to make you pay. I know now that it was Aunt Maggie. She only thought about avenging her brother and keeping herself out of jail. She was always going to make us be the scapegoats.”
She scoots herself up in the bed and focuses her gaze upon mine.
“I am not asking you to not pursue me legally. I’m not even asking you to accept me as a sister. I am asking you to hear my side, my brother’s side, my mother’s side, and understand why we did what we did. I am accepting responsibility for my part in all events, but I needed you to know why.”
I’m not sure what to say right now, or what to say. I sit for a moment, letting her words sink in. Then I rise to my feet.
“Thank you, Layla,” I tell her.
I turn and start walking out of the room. I reach for the door, and when my hand clasps around the handle and I pull it open, I pause.
“What is your real name?” I ask her, my back turned to her.
“Milly.”
I nod.
“Goodbye, Milly.”
There isn’t a truer statement than the one that says doctors and nurses make the worst patients, and I am almost ashamed to admit that I am no different. As much as I love being the one taking care of people, I hate being in the reversed role. The other day a nurse came in to do my dressing change, and I kind of took over the task. It has been three weeks, two days, and seventeen hours—but who’s counting?—since I have been shot, and I am so glad that today is the day of my discharge. For obvious reasons, I don’t want to be transferred to Hillcrest, so I insisted on staying here at Heritage Memorial Hospital, much to the dismay of my pretend husband. I chuckle at the thought of his little white lie. It’s been a running joke now between us and our little gang. Mika wouldn’t be Mika if he hadn’t secured this room that is normally for two people and made it a private room. I guess there are definitely some perks to having vast amounts of money at your disposal.
Mika has stayed with me every single night. He has been going back to the office for about two weeks now, but he returns every evening with a delicious dinner because the hospital food is terrible. During the day, when Mika is at the office, I am never alone. Well, never for long anyway. Besides the fact that I always have security outside my door, I have had some dedicated visitors. I know they must have been coordinating, making sure that I’m not alone in here. This morning, like clockwork, Jillybean and Mikaela walked in with bags of yummy breakfast foods. I’m so happy the two of them have forgiven me for ditching them and using them as a tool to get away. We had to have a little come to Jesus meeting about it, and I deserved it. I’m so happy that the three of us are so close now. I think that’s partly why Jill has agreed to take one of the guest suites at Mikaela’s apartment. Basically, not much will change, and I get to keep living with the love of my life and my person. We are sitting down and starting to chow down on the breakfast sandwiches when the door slams open. I scowl at River, who storms in smiling brightly, looking ridiculous in his Hawaiian print skater shorts paired with a button up and a sports jacket. My little brother just gave the three of us half a heart attack.
“Good morning, beautiful lady folk and Raeva,” he says with a smirk. “Did you have a spare one of those? They look delicious.”
The way to River’s heart is without a doubt his stomach. He’s kinda like a puppy; if you feed him, he’ll love you forever.
“River Ray, have I ever not brought you food? I have been sneaking you candy and food ever since you were yea high,” Jill tells him with a wink.
“You are not that much older than me, Jilly,” he says, sounding a little disgruntled.
The second she hands him the sandwich though, he’s already smiling.
“Did you—“
“Yes River, I brought you two,” she interrupts him, shaking her head.
“You’re too good to me.”
Jill rolls her eyes.
“I know,” she replies.
River has actually been working a legitimate job lately. Mika has offered him a position as head of IT, and they are talking about possibly branching out. He looks so happy, and I know that Mika is really impressed by how smart my brother is. It’s a great fit, and as a bonus, I get to see a lot more of him.
When we finish eating, the doctor comes in and tells me that I can go home now, and when the nurse follows him a few minutes later with the discharge papers in hand, I am so happy that I hug her. They’ve been great to me here, but there is no place like home. It’s weird, but Mika’s penthouse now feels like my home as well. Clark and River carry most of my stuff, while the rest of the security team takes dozens of cards, flower arrangements, and gift baskets. As for the rest of the ones I’m leaving behind, I have asked the nurses to give the vast majority of the flowers and gift baskets to people who might need a little cheering up.
One of the most noteworthy things I’ve received while being in the hospital is an apology letter from Layla—or rather, Milly. It was unexpected and, I believe, really heartfelt. Mika told me about the talk they had a few weeks ago, and I think that although she has done some questionable things as Layla, maybe she will be able to start over and redeem herself as Milly. My granny always told me that it is best to forgive people; if not for them, then for yourself. Holding on to hate is like having poison trickle into your heart, and it takes so much energy hating someone. It is just not worth it. We leave the hospital via a back entrance while a decoy vehicle leaves from the front entrance, making sure to make it a big spectacle. Jill is wearing a dark wig and large sunglasses and is pretending to be me—trust me, she loves it—and River gets in the car with her. Mikaela joins me and Clark in the car to drive home. The gossip rags have been dying to get a snap of the billionaire’s girlfriend who got shot. They even tried to get into my room twice while I was there. Besides the fact that I have had security at my door, the hospital staff have thankfully been amazing. When a few questionable characters were dressed in hospital uniforms and they didn’t recognize them, those people were stopped. They questioned who they were and escorted them out before they ever even got to me. I cannot express just how grateful I am for that. The staff really has been great to me, but it is really time to go home now.
We arrive at the penthouse about twenty minutes later. I’ve been texting Mika on the ride here. He’s in a meeting right now, but he says he’ll be home early today. He just left me this morning, but I already miss him. We get out in the parking garage, and Mikaela’s phone starts ringing. She frowns when she looks at the screen.
“I’m sorry, Rae. I’ve got to take this. Go on ahead without me. I’ll catch up in a few.”
I’m still a little paranoid when it comes to our safety, so I hesitate. Mikaela must see the look on my face.
“It’s okay, Rae, I promise. Clark can escort you to the elevator. Use the key so it won’t stop anywhere else, that way Clark can stay with me and you will know that I am safe.”
“Steward has already cleared the penthouse, Ms. Ray,” Clark chimes in.
Well, how am I going to argue with that? I smile and nod, admittedly still feeling a little worried. We walk to the elevator, and I pull the elevator key that Mika had given me last week out of my purse. I step into the cart, insert the key into its designated spot, and Clark steps back as the doors close. When they close, I note a piece of paper that is taped to the door. Written on it are the words:
Read me.
So, I do. The note tells me to follow the numbers. When we reach the penthouse floor and the doors open, the first thing that hits me is the sweet fragrance of flowers. As far as the eyes can see, the entire apartment is covered with floral arrangements. In various places throughou
t the apartment are red velvet ribbons hanging from the ceiling with little envelopes attached to them. I take in the sight, slowly stepping forward. I reach the first envelope and see that it is numbered. Number one is obviously the first one. I open it and read:
Your beautiful soul.
I smile, not entirely understanding where this is going, but I continue my path and step forward. I extend my hand and grab the next one, aptly labeled number two.
Your stunning smile that takes my breath away.
I stop and look around. There must be dozens and dozens of these hanging everywhere. I walk to each ribbon, making sure to keep them in the correct order. Soon I reach number fifteen, which reads:
How happy you get when you eat foods you love.
Now that makes me smile, and I think of all the romantic meals we shared together and how right he is. Eating makes me happy. Jill always jokes that I am a fat kid strapped in a skinny person’s body. I keep on following the ribbons, and each one warms my heart more than the last. I get to number twenty-seven, which says:
Your smart mouth.
This makes me laugh out loud. I continue and read note after note and eventually get to number thirty-nine, which reads:
How feisty you are.
I roll my eyes and chuckle. I walk farther, and number fifty-one warms me from the tips of my toes.
You’ve made me smile my first genuine smile. (And I’ve kept it.)
I’ve followed the ribbons all the way through the foyer, and they continue leading up the stairway that leads to the rooftop terrace. Number sixty-three makes my heart skip a beat.
You are the very first thing and the very last thing on my mind every single day.
I continue to walk up the stairs, and at the top, I find number seventy-one.
The way you put me in my place when you think I need it.
My face almost hurts from the enormous smile that appears. I think back to the day I flew off the handle when I mistakenly thought Mika was married to Mikaela. I open the door to the terrace, and my breath catches in my throat. The moment my feet touch the decked flooring, music starts playing. I recognize the song immediately. It’s Cello Suite No. 1. My pulse is out of control as I walk farther onto the terrace. The man has spent a small fortune on flowers. If I thought there were many flowers downstairs, up here it looks as if I’m walking through a sea of flowers and little tea lights; it looks incredible up here. Strangely, the fragrance of the flowers is even more prominent up here than in the penthouse, and I love it. There are so many beautiful arrangements to admire, and now the little numbered notes are in little cardholders and placed in between the arrangements. I keep on making my way through the little notes, and when I make my way to ninety-three, it reads:
After Tomorrow (Kingsley series Book 2) Page 17