Chapter Seventeen: The Same Watch

After Bruno left the Hammond Group's office, he rushed over to the Frucht Group without missing a beat. Bursting through the doors, he blurted out, "Mr. Frucht, it's a total disaster! Miss Hammond just called me in and asked me to buy Simon a watch. Is there a chance she's onto us?"

Remembering Layla's intimidating warning from earlier, Bruno couldn't help but feel a shiver run down his spine.

While Bruno fretted over the situation, Tristan appeared calm and collected, almost as if he had foreseen it all.

With a pause, Tristan put down his pen, his ruggedly handsome face marked by a touch of gloom. He uttered in a low voice, "She never really cared enough to want to discover."

Tristan had never intended to keep their relationship a secret in the first place.

He wanted to proclaim their relationship to the world, but it seemed she had a different plan.

In a burst of frustration, Tristan forcefully snapped his pen, causing his hand to bleed and stain the desk. His eyes glinted with intensity.

Recalling James' mention of Layla being carried to the examination room by Ashton, Tristan's already solemn expression hinted at a storm brewing within him.

Bruno was feeling confused when he overheard Tristan mutter to himself, "It's fine. She'll be back soon."

...

Meanwhile, Layla was still working in her office.

It wasn't until she noticed the last staff member leaving that she realized it was already 8 p.m.

Her neck ached as if it might snap, but she pushed through the tiredness, grabbed her bag, and limped into the elevator to head home.

As she stepped out of the office building, she caught sight of a man in black standing in the dark night, his gaze fixed on her as though he had been waiting for her.

Locking eyes with Tristan, Layla felt a wave of uncertainty wash over her, tempted to play it cool and act like she hadn't noticed him standing there.

But Tristan wasn't about to let her slip away so easily.

With a commanding presence, he positioned himself in front of her, his gaze intense as he asked, "Are you avoiding me, Miss Hammond?"

Layla flashed a hesitant smile, "Avoiding you? Oh, not at all. I've just been thinking about work stuff and didn't see you there. What brings you here, anyway?"

Tristan's imposing stature and striking appearance turned heads, drawing curious glances and even covert snapshots from onlookers. Though not everyone recognized him, his magnetism was undeniable.

Raising an eyebrow, Tristan grinned, "I just want to offer you a ride home. I'm such a good neighbor, aren't I?"

Layla couldn't help but roll her eyes internally.

His excuse was flimsy at best and didn't hold water.

She couldn't even fathom him lying so effortlessly.

The Frucht Group was situated in the bustling CBD downtown, a twenty-minute drive from the Hammond Group headquarters.

Plus, it was completely opposite to the direction they were heading home.

All of these made Tristan's offer seem more like a dubious gesture than genuine goodwill. Layla tactfully dodged his offer and politely declined, saying that she could drive herself home.

Despite her subtle refusal, Tristan could see right through her act. Obviously, her injured ankle made it difficult for her to drive.

"Perhaps you can take a taxi. I don't have any plans tonight, so I can keep you company while we wait," Tristan proposed. Sensing Layla's hesitation, he leaned back against the car, pulled out a cigarette, and, with a slight squint, lit it.

Thin wisps of smoke partially obscured his handsome features, leaving only the enchanting contours visible. He was just too attractive and graceful, resembling a movie star from the sixties.

As the onlookers began gossiping about their relationship, Layla's nerves tingled, and she could no longer bear the tension.

"Fine, you win! Let's get in the car," Layla exclaimed.

Tristan chuckled, stepped back, gave a courteous bow, and opened the car door for Layla. "After you, my lady."

As Layla settled into the passenger seat, she was surprised to find Tristan not only driving a sports car that day but also personally taking the wheel.

The close quarters in the car amplified the sound of their breathing, creating a slightly eerie ambiance.

Layla's heart raced inside the confined space of the car, its thumping reverberating loudly. A mischievous grin played on Tristan's lips as he teasingly asked, "Are you feeling nervous?"

In an attempt to mask her anxiety, Layla blinked rapidly and gulped before retorting, "Nervous? Me? No way! Why would I be nervous?"

Tristan's smile remained faint as he didn't let on anything.

Layla nervously patted her flushed cheek, took a deep breath, and casually glanced over to be taken aback by the watch on Tristan's wrist.

It struck her that it was the same watch Simon used to wear.

Memories flooded her mind of the countless intimate nights when Simon would hold her close from behind, his warm breath teasing the nape of her neck. He'd playfully tease her, leading her on and kissing her with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Layla couldn't ignore the undeniable truth—this was Simon's watch. Even the tiny scratches on the watch face matched perfectly.

As Layla's eyes widened in shock, she peered at the man sitting next to her, noticing his straight nose and delicate features as if she were looking at him with fresh eyes.

Feeling a gaze on him, Tristan turned his head at a red light and locked eyes with Layla.

In that moment of silence, their eyes held a conversation of their own, mirroring the wild thumping of Layla's heart.

The realization slowly dawned on Layla that Simon and Tristan were one and the same.

She couldn't help but feel a tinge of foolishness for missing the numerous hints and similarities along the way.