Chapter 43: Behind the Tears

Evening settled over the Knight Mansion like a soft veil of gold and shadow. The last rays of sunlight filtered through the tall windows, painting the marble floors in warm hues. The air smelled faintly of roses from Hannah’s garden, and the quiet hum of conversation from the servants faded as the day drew to a close.

Mindy stood near the grand staircase, her bag slung over her shoulder. The visit had been long, emotional, and unexpectedly heavy. Hannah’s warmth had soothed her heart, but Matthew’s questions still lingered in her mind like echoes she couldn’t silence.

She turned toward Hannah with a polite smile. "Grandma, it’s getting late. I should head back."

Hannah looked up from her teacup, her expression soft. "Already? You just arrived, child."

"I have some work to finish tonight," Mindy said gently. "I’ll visit again soon."

Hannah sighed but nodded. "All right, dear. Let me have someone call a car for you."

Mindy shook her head and pulled out her phone. "No need. I’ll book an Uber."

Before Hannah could respond, a familiar voice came from behind. "I’ll give you a ride."

Mindy turned. Layton stood a few steps away, his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable. The fading light caught the sharp lines of his face, making him look both distant and strangely vulnerable.

She didn’t hesitate. "No need. My ride will be here in five minutes."

Layton’s jaw tightened. "It’s late. I’ll take you."

"I said no."

The air between them thickened. Hannah, sensing the tension, set her cup down and smiled faintly. "Let him give you a ride, Mindy. He’s the one who asked you to come here, after all."

Mindy hesitated. She didn’t want to argue in front of Hannah. And truthfully, she was tired. The thought of waiting outside for a car suddenly felt unnecessary.

Why waste money on a cab when a free ride was right here?

She exhaled softly. "Fine."

Layton’s eyes flickered with something unreadable—relief, perhaps—but he said nothing. He simply nodded and gestured toward the door.

The evening air was cool as they stepped outside. The Rolls-Royce gleamed under the porch lights, its polished surface reflecting the fading sky. Mindy slid into the passenger seat without a word. Layton walked around to the driver’s side, his movements quiet, controlled.

The car started with a low hum. For a few seconds, silence filled the space between them.

Then Layton’s phone rang.

He glanced at the screen. Missy.

His brows furrowed. He hesitated for a moment before answering.

"Layton," Emily’s voice came through, trembling and frantic. "Please come to the Hawthorne Mansion. Missy fainted again—she’s been calling your name nonstop. Please, come fast."

Layton’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. "What?"

"She’s not waking up properly," Emily cried. "The doctor’s on the way, but she keeps asking for you. Please, Layton, hurry."

His eyes widened. "I’ll be there in twenty minutes."

He ended the call and exhaled sharply, his pulse quickening.

When he turned, Mindy was sitting calmly, her gaze fixed on the road ahead.

"Missy fainted again," he said quietly. "Let’s go to the Hawthorne Mansion first."

Mindy’s lips curved into a cold, humorless smile. "If she fainted, what does that have to do with me? I didn’t make her faint."

Layton frowned. "Mindy—"

"If you want to go, then go," she interrupted, her tone sharp. She reached for the door handle.

Layton’s voice dropped, low and strained. "You were never this heartless."

Mindy’s hand paused on the door handle. Then she looked at him, her expression unreadable. "Well," she said softly, "I am now."

She stepped out of the car, the door closing behind her with a quiet thud.

"Wasted my time," she muttered under her breath. "Idiot!"

She pulled out her phone and ordered another Uber.

Layton sat there for a few seconds, staring at the empty seat beside him. The faint scent of her perfume lingered in the air, sharp and clean. He clenched his jaw, started the car, and drove off into the night.

By the time Mindy reached the Wilson Estate, the sky had turned deep indigo. The lights from the house spilled across the driveway, warm and welcoming. Inside, the faint sound of laughter drifted from the living room.

Layla was on a call, pacing near the window, while Wade sat at the dining table, his laptop open, the glow from the screen reflecting off his glasses.

He looked up as Mindy entered. "How was your day?"

Mindy dropped her bag on the sofa and sighed. "Everything was good," she said dryly, "but then a donkey crossed my path."

Wade blinked, then burst out laughing. "That bad, huh?"

She gave him a look. "Worse."

He chuckled and turned his laptop toward her. "Well, maybe this will cheer you up. I found something."

Mindy walked over, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "About Tori?"

"Exactly." Wade’s tone turned serious. "You were right. There’s a connection between Emily and Tori. Emily has an overseas bank account—one she’s been using for years. Around the time the Angel Tear was auctioned, she transferred three hundred thousand dollars to Tori."

Mindy’s eyes narrowed. "Three hundred thousand?"

He nodded. "And that’s not all. There are multiple transactions before that. Smaller amounts, spread over several years. They’ve known each other for a long time."

Mindy’s expression hardened. "So Emily’s been funding her."

"Looks like it," Wade said. "But there’s still no trace of where Tori is now. I’m still digging."

Mindy crossed her arms, her mind already racing. "Keep looking. If Emily’s been paying her, then Tori’s not just a random collector. She’s part of something bigger."

Wade nodded. "Understood."

Mindy turned toward the window, her reflection faint in the glass. The night outside was quiet, but her thoughts were anything but.

Emily. Tori. The Angel Tear.

Pieces of a puzzle were beginning to align.

And when they did, someone would fall.

Meanwhile, at the Hawthorne Mansion, chaos reigned.

Missy lay on her bed, her face pale, her breathing shallow. Emily sat beside her, dabbing her forehead with a damp cloth, tears glistening in her eyes. Jagger stood near the foot of the bed, his expression tense.

"Where’s the doctor?" Emily demanded.

"On his way," Jagger replied. "He said ten minutes."

Missy stirred weakly, her lashes fluttering. "Layton..." she whispered.

Emily’s heart clenched. "He’s coming, sweetheart. He’s on his way."

Missy’s lips trembled. "I didn’t mean to hurt her... I just wanted to help..."

Her voice broke into a sob.

Emily’s eyes filled with tears. "I know, darling. I know."

The door opened.

Layton stepped inside, his expression grim.

Emily looked up immediately. "Layton!"

He crossed the room quickly, his gaze falling on Missy. She looked fragile, almost childlike, her skin pale against the white sheets.

"Layton..." she whispered again, her voice trembling.

He stopped beside the bed. "I’m here."

Tears spilled down her cheeks. "I didn’t mean to hurt Sister. I just wanted to help Rona Design. It was her mother’s company. That’s why I looked at her design—for inspiration, nothing more. I didn’t know it was hers. If I had known, I would never have taken it."

Her voice cracked, and she began to sob harder. "I didn’t even know she could design. Please tell her I’m sorry. Everyone is calling me names. I can’t take it anymore."

Emily reached out, stroking her daughter’s hair. "It’s all right, sweetheart. You’ve already apologized. People will understand."

Layton’s expression softened slightly. The sight of Missy crying—so small, so broken—stirred something in him.

Jagger stepped forward, his tone firm. "We know, Missy. You’re not like that. You must have been misunderstood. Mindy’s just exaggerating everything."

He said it with conviction, as if repeating it enough times would make it true.

Layton’s jaw tightened. "Drink some water," he said quietly. "And stop crying."

Emily handed Missy a glass, her eyes flicking toward Layton. "Her reputation is in chaos. Everyone’s still blaming her. She already apologized publicly. We just wanted to help the company—there was no other motive. Bose Media is exaggerating everything. The news still hasn’t been taken down."

She paused, her voice trembling. "Please, Layton. Help her. Only you can."

Jagger nodded quickly. "Yes, Layton. She made a mistake, but she’s apologized. Can’t you do something?"

Layton didn’t answer immediately. He looked at Missy, then at Emily. Their faces were full of desperation, fear, and something else—something he couldn’t quite name.

He thought of Mindy.

Her cold eyes. Her calm voice. The way she had walked away from him without hesitation.

You were never this heartless.

Well, I am now.

The words echoed in his mind.

Missy sniffled softly, watching him. She could see the conflict in his eyes. She knew exactly what he was thinking.

And she knew how to twist it.

"No, Layton," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Please don’t get involved. Sister will hate you too. I don’t want that."

Her tears fell again, perfectly timed.

Layton hesitated. "Let me see what I can do."

Missy’s lips trembled, but her eyes—just for a second—glinted with something sharp and triumphant.

Emily saw it.

And smiled faintly.

They had done it again.

The night deepened outside the Hawthorne Mansion. The lights from the chandelier cast long shadows across the floor, flickering like ghosts of the past.

In one house, a woman planned her next move.

In another, a girl perfected her act.

And between them stood a man—torn, uncertain, and slowly being pulled back into the same web he had once escaped.