Chapter 72

Chapter 72

I stood up, staggered back two steps, and pointed at the door. "Just go. I don't want to see you anymore. I'd rather find work on my own, even if it means begging on the streets, than accept your help!"

Matthew didn't move, just looked at me quietly.

"You're not leaving?" I stared at him, angry and anxious. The alcohol was hitting me hard. My head got hot, and I tried to push him. "Fine, then I'll leave!"

But the moment I took a step, my legs gave out, and I fell toward the floor. Matthew caught me quickly and scooped me up in his arms.

"Let go of me! Matthew, let me go!" I struggled, kicking and hitting him with everything I had, but he held me tight, and I couldn't break free.

He said nothing, just carried me to the bed, gently laid me down, and tucked the blanket around me.

I kept struggling, cursing non-stop. "Matthew, you jerk! You're just as bad as William! I hate the Brown family! I never want to see any of you again!"

He sat on the edge of the bed, letting me curse, letting me hit him. Only when my movements got too wild would he gently hold my hands to keep me from hurting myself.

After cursing for a while, I felt tired. The alcohol was getting stronger, and my eyelids felt heavy as lead. I looked at his face so close to mine, and through the blur, I thought I saw pain in his eyes.

I asked him groggily, "Matthew, why are you being so nice to me? Are you trying to get revenge for William? Punishing me for divorcing him and making him lose face?"

He hesitated before saying, "Because I like you, Layla. I've liked you for a long time."

"Like... like me?" My head went "boom," like I'd been struck by lightning. The alcohol fog cleared halfway.

I stared at him blankly and said, "You're joking. You're William's brother, and I'm his ex-wife."

He said, "I'm not joking. I know what stands between us. I know how much you hate the Browns right now. But I can't control myself. When I see William bully you, when I see you wronged, my heart aches. When I see you hurting but forcing yourself to stay strong, I just want to protect you."

"You're lying!" I shook my head as tears fell again. "You men are all liars. William used to say he liked me too, but then he cheated. You're the same. You just think I'm down and out now, easy to manipulate."

"I'm not." He cut me off. This was the first time I'd seen him lose his composure like this. "I can wait. Wait for you to slowly let go of the past, wait until you're willing to trust me. Layla, give me a chance, give yourself a chance, okay? When you wake up, everything will be better."

I looked at him, my eyelids too heavy to lift. The sounds around me grew more and more distant. I didn't hear what he said after that, and fell into a deep sleep.

When I woke up the next day, my head was splitting, like it had been hit with a sledgehammer.

I sat up rubbing my temples, looked at the unfamiliar bedroom, and after a long moment realized this was my own apartment.

My memories from last night were scattered. I only remembered drinking a lot, and someone seemed to have come by. Who was it?

I tried hard to remember, but my mind was blank except for a fragmented word: "like."

"Must've been drunk and hallucinating." I patted my head, not taking the hallucination seriously.

After all, who would like a woman like me, covered in scars and still tangled up with the Brown family?

After washing up and eating something simple, I started looking for work again.

I opened job search apps and sent out dozens of resumes, mostly for design-related positions.

But after several days, either there was no response, or after interviews, there was no follow-up.

Once, a company I really liked called me in for an interview. It went smoothly, the interviewer was very satisfied with my design proposal, and said they'd give me an answer in a couple of days.

I went home full of hope, waiting for news, but what came was a rejection call with the reason being "doesn't fit the company's development needs."

I was puzzled. The conversation went so well. How did it suddenly not fit?

It wasn't until later, when I happened to hear from a former Urban Muse colleague, that William had put the word out in the industry—whoever dared hire me was going against him.

That was when I understood why finding a job was so hard.

William was doing it on purpose. He didn't want me to do well. He wanted me desperate, with nowhere to turn, so I'd have to come crawling back to him.

Several more days passed, and I still hadn't found work.

My savings were running low, and the apartment rent was almost due.

Did I really have to leave Emerald City?

After struggling with it for days, I finally made up my mind. Leave Emerald City, change environments, start over.

Maybe in a strange place, without William's interference, I could find a decent job and live a peaceful life.

I started packing, boxing up clothes, books, and design drafts one by one.

Ember called. When she heard I was leaving, she cried her eyes out, begging me to reconsider.

"Layla, please don't go, okay? Let's think of something else. There's got to be a company willing to hire you."

I held back tears and said with a smile, "Ember, I'm tired. I don't want to be tangled up with William anymore. A change of scenery might be good—maybe I can have a fresh start. Don't worry, I'll call you when I get there."

After hanging up, I looked at the packed suitcases, my heart a mess of emotions.

After finishing packing, I booked a flight to Silverlight City for the next day.

That evening, I went to my parents' grave one last time and said softly, "Dad, Mom, I'm leaving. Once I'm settled, I'll come visit you. Don't worry, I'll take good care of myself."

Early the next morning, I dragged my suitcase out, heading to the airport.

Just as I walked out of the apartment building, I saw a familiar black car parked by the curb. The window rolled down, revealing Matthew's cool face.

My heart jumped, and I instinctively wanted to avoid him. How was he here? Did he know I was leaving?

Matthew opened the car door and got out, walked straight up to me, his eyes falling on my suitcase. He said calmly, "Leaving?"

I nodded without speaking.

I didn't know what to say to him—whether to thank him for his past help or resent him for being William's brother.

He said, "I'll take you."

I quickly refused. "No need, I can get to the airport myself. I don't want to trouble you."

He took the suitcase from my hand and put it in the trunk, saying, "It's no trouble. I've already helped you terminate the apartment lease and settle the rent. You don't need to worry about William finding you. I've taken care of it—he won't know where you've gone."

I froze, looking at him, and asked in confusion, "Why are you helping me?"