Layla's muffled screams did no help in the dark room in which she was kept locked. Right now, nothing else mattered to her but the truth of Michael. Was Michael really dead? How would she unveil the truth now?
She cried and cried a lot, cursing herself beneath her breath for leaving Michael. If she got the chance to turn back time, she would choose Michael and would have remained by his side. Him having a wife or not didn't matter to her.
"So… where have you been hiding all this time, huh?" David's ragged tone broke her reverie. Glancing, she met with the familiar face—the very one that made her feel disgusted knowing he was her father.
Layla pursed her lips… tears rolling down her cheeks, yet she maintained a defensive stance—one that let off a feeling she wouldn't back down in the face of her enemy. She balled her fists and kept glaring at David.
