Chapter 42: The Truth He Couldn’t Escape

Layton’s head snapped up.

Hannah’s voice remained calm, but there was steel beneath it.

"I told Matthew then that something was wrong. Maria’s daughter would never steal. But no one listened."

Her gaze shifted briefly to Layton.

"Not even you."

Layton’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

Mindy lowered her eyes.

"It doesn’t matter anymore."

"It matters to me," Hannah said firmly. "You were wronged, and I will not pretend otherwise."

The room fell silent again.

Hannah sighed softly, her expression gentling once more.

"You’ve suffered enough, child. But I’m glad you didn’t let it break you. You stood tall, and you showed them who you truly are."

Mindy smiled faintly.

"I just did what I had to do."

"That’s what strength looks like," Hannah said. "Quiet. Steady. Unyielding."

Layton looked at her then—really looked at her.

The woman sitting across from him wasn’t the same girl he had once dismissed as fragile. There was a calm power in her now, a quiet confidence that demanded respect.

And he realized, with a pang of regret, that he had never truly seen her before.

As the afternoon light shifted, Hannah began asking about Emma Wilson, her old friend.

Mindy told her about Emma’s health, about Jasper, and about the small things that filled their days. The conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and nostalgia.

Layton listened in silence, his gaze occasionally drifting to Mindy’s face.

Every time she smiled, something inside him twisted.

Before, Mindy had always looked at him with such hope.

And he had taken it for granted.

Now, watching her laugh with his grandmother, he realized how much he had lost.

When the tea was finished, Hannah insisted on showing Mindy the garden.

The two women walked side by side through the blooming roses, their voices soft and full of affection. Layton followed a few steps behind, his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

The garden was Hannah’s pride—a sea of color and fragrance that stretched behind the mansion. She had planted most of it herself decades ago, and even now, she tended to it whenever she could.

"These roses," Hannah said, touching a pale pink bloom, "your mother helped me plant them once. She said they reminded her of you."

Mindy smiled, her eyes glistening.

"She loved this garden."

"I know," Hannah said softly. "She used to say it felt alive. Just like you."

They walked in silence for a while, the sound of birds filling the air.

Then Hannah stopped and turned to her.

"Mindy, I know things between you and Layton have been difficult. But I want you to remember something."

Mindy looked at her, waiting.

"People make mistakes," Hannah said gently. "Sometimes terrible ones. But love... real love... doesn’t vanish because of pain. It hides. It waits. It hopes."

Mindy’s chest tightened.

"Grandma..."

Hannah smiled sadly.

"I’m not asking you to forgive him. I’m asking you not to close your heart completely. You deserve happiness, child. Whether it’s with him or without him."

Mindy nodded slowly.

"I understand."

Behind them, Layton stood still, his heart heavy.

The garden shimmered beneath the soft glow of the late-afternoon sun. Roses swayed gently in the breeze, their fragrance lingering in the air like a memory that refused to fade.

Hannah and Mindy walked slowly along the stone path, their conversation quiet, their laughter light.

When they reached the end of the path, Hannah turned to her with a smile.

"Matthew has been waiting to see you," she said. "He’s in the study. Go to him, child. He’ll be happy to see you."

Mindy hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

"All right."

Layton, who had been following a few steps behind, stopped when Hannah gently touched his arm.

"Let her go alone," she said softly. "They need to talk."

He said nothing. He only watched as Mindy disappeared into the mansion.

The study was warm and dignified, filled with the scent of old books and polished wood. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting golden patterns across the carpet.

Matthew Knight sat behind his desk, reading glasses perched on his nose, a thick file open before him.

When he looked up and saw Mindy, his stern expression softened instantly.

"Mindy," he greeted warmly, rising to his feet. "It’s been too long."

She smiled faintly.

"Grandfather Matthew."

He gestured for her to sit.

"Come, child. Sit down. You’ve grown even more graceful since the last time I saw you."

Mindy took the seat across from him.

"You’re still as kind as ever."

Matthew chuckled.

"Kindness is easy when it’s deserved."

He studied her for a moment, his eyes full of quiet affection.

"You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?"

Mindy didn’t answer. She only smiled politely.

Matthew sighed, leaning back in his chair.

"I watched the competition. You were remarkable. Your mother would have been proud."

Her throat tightened.

"Thank you."

For a moment, silence filled the room.

Then Matthew’s tone shifted—gentle, but serious.

"Mindy," he said, "do you really want to divorce Layton?"

Her fingers tightened slightly around the edge of her skirt.

Matthew continued, his voice calm but searching.

"Can you not work together? Give him another chance?"

Mindy looked down at her hands.

For a long moment, she said nothing.

Then she exhaled softly, her voice quiet but steady.

"I loved Layton with all my heart," she said. "I don’t regret that. But all I ever received in return was disappointment."

Her eyes lifted to meet his.

"Now, I want to live for myself. I don’t want to be his wife anymore. He never loved me. He can marry the one he loves."

The words hung in the air, heavy and final.

Matthew’s expression softened with understanding. He sighed deeply, then nodded.

"I see."

He didn’t argue. He didn’t try to persuade her. He simply accepted her truth.

"Whatever you decide," he said quietly, "you’ll always have a place in this family."

Mindy smiled faintly, gratitude flickering in her eyes.

"Thank you, Grandfather."

Outside the study, Layton stood frozen in the hallway.

He hadn’t meant to listen. He had only come to check if his grandfather was still busy. But when he heard her voice—soft, calm, and heartbreakingly resolute—he couldn’t move.

"I loved Layton with all my heart."

The words struck him like a blade.

"I don’t regret that, but all I received was disappointment."

Each sentence cut deeper.

"I want to live for myself. I don’t want to be his wife. He never loved me."

He closed his eyes, his hand tightening into a fist at his side.

He had heard every word.

And for the first time, he realized how deeply he had wounded her.

A few minutes later, the door opened.

Mindy stepped out, her expression calm, her posture composed.

She stopped when she saw him standing there.

For a brief moment, their eyes met.

No words were exchanged.

No explanations.

No accusations.

Only silence.

Then she looked away and walked past him, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor as she made her way toward the living room.

Layton turned slightly, watching her go. His throat felt tight, his chest heavier than it had ever been.

"Layton."

His grandfather’s voice came from inside the study.

He turned back and entered, closing the door behind him.

Matthew was still seated behind his desk, his expression now cold and unreadable.

"Sit," he said.

Layton obeyed.

For a moment, neither spoke. The air between them was thick with unspoken tension.

Then Matthew broke the silence. His tone was sharp, his words deliberate.

"If you don’t love her," he said, "divorce her and let her go."

Layton’s irritation flared instantly.

"Why does everyone want me to divorce her?" he snapped. "I never wanted to divorce her—and I won’t."

Matthew studied him for several seconds, his gaze steady.

"Are you serious?"

Layton met his eyes.

"Yes."

Matthew leaned forward slightly.

"Then tell me, how are you going to stop her from divorcing you?"

Layton’s jaw tightened.

"I have a plan."

Matthew’s brows lifted slightly.

"A plan?"

"Yes," Layton said firmly. "I’ll make her stay."

For a long moment, Matthew said nothing. Then he leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable.

"Fine," he said at last. "I’ll give you one chance. Your grandmother and I won’t interfere. Do what you think is best."

Layton nodded once.

"Thank you."

But before he could stand, Matthew’s tone changed again—colder, heavier.

"There’s something else," he said. "Your uncle is causing trouble again."

Layton’s expression hardened.

"What kind of trouble?"

Matthew’s eyes darkened.

"He’s planning something. I don’t know what yet, but I can feel it. He’s been contacting people he shouldn’t—old associates. Some of them still have influence here."

The air in the study seemed to grow colder.

Layton’s voice dropped.

"He’s still overseas."

"For now," Matthew said grimly. "But he has connections. Someone inside the company may be helping him. Be careful, Layton. Don’t underestimate him. He’s tried to kill you before."

Layton’s jaw clenched.

"I understand."

Matthew nodded slowly.

"Good. Keep your eyes open. And whatever you do—don’t let your guard down."

When Layton left the study, the corridor felt colder than before.

He paused at the top of the staircase.

Below, in the living room, Mindy was speaking softly with Hannah. The old woman was smiling, her hand resting affectionately on Mindy’s arm.

Layton stood there, watching them from a distance.

Her laughter—soft and genuine—floated up the stairs.

It was a sound he hadn’t heard in years.

And it wasn’t for him.