Real Heiress: Flash Marriage With Boyfriend's Uncle - Chapter 66

Chapter 66: Want me to let it go?

“That’s right,” Miriam began, her voice low but filled with years of pent-up bitterness. “From the day you and your mother entered our house, I never knew peace. I was always afraid… afraid that whatever belonged to my daughter would end up in your hands.” Her admission hung in the air, laden with resentment.

Layla’s gaze sharpened, her patience waning now. “And that’s why Orabela set her sights on the man I was dating? To prove some twisted point?” .

Miriam didn’t flinch, her bitterness bubbling to the surface. “If you really want to fix things, take your mother out of my house. Your husband has more than enough money to take care of her. Orabela never would have done what she did if you had never existed in our lives.”

Layla’s eyes widened in shock, her pulse quickening as Miriam’s words sank in. “What?” she gasped, unable to hide her disbelief. It wasn’t the first time Miriam had blamed her for Orabela’s faults, but this? This was worse than she had ever imagined.

They were making her the villain again, excusing Orabela’s actions by painting Layla as the cause. It was always this way—any time Orabela faltered, they pointed the finger at Layla.

“You heard me, Layla,” Miriam continued, her expression hardening as she dredged up old wounds. “My life was ruined the moment your mother stepped into it. And now, you’ve done the same thing to my daughter. Do you think it was easy for me, watching you grow up beside Orabela? Every time I looked at you, I was reminded of the betrayal your mother inflicted on me. You and your mother… you never let us live in peace.” Her voice dripped with venom, her face twisted in a bitter scowl.

Layla sat frozen for a moment, struggling to comprehend the depth of the accusation. It wasn’t just about the past—it was as though Miriam had been holding her responsible for years, for every crack in their lives. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest, the weight of the blame crushing her spirit.

“And yet, none of you ever considered what was right in front of you,” Layla said, her voice soft but laced with hurt. “You never saw the truth about Orabela because it was easier to make me the scapegoat.” Her eyes darkened with the years of unfairness she had endured, but she held her composure, refusing to let Miriam see her break.

“Your husband is responsible for all of this. So you better ask him, not me,” Layla snapped, her eyes blazing with fury. “I truly thought you’d feel some guilt over your daughter’s actions, but you don’t. Don’t ever contact me again, and don’t come near me. You deserve to suffer in that house because you’ve always shielded the wrong.” Her voice trembled with anger as she rose from her seat, ready to walk away.

“Layla!” Miriam’s voice rang out, sharper now, but Layla was done.

“Shut your mouth, Mrs. Rosenzweig,” Layla spat, her composure hanging by a thread. “I’m not someone you can shout at anymore. Leave, before I call security to kick you out.” She trembled with rage, recalling how just last night, when Miriam had fainted, she had been genuinely worried for her.

But now?

She realized her empathy had been wasted on someone who had never cared enough to see her for who she really was. No one in the Rosenzweig family seemed sane enough to distinguish between right and wrong.

Miriam, clutching her handbag tightly, rose to her feet. Her face was flushed with fury, her eyes cold as ice. “I wish you had never been born, Layla,” she pronounced with venom before storming out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Layla stood frozen in place, the sting of Miriam’s words cutting deeper than any wound she’d ever felt. A single tear rolled down her cheek as her heart trembled.

Of all the cruel things Miriam had said over the years, this was the most heartless. Her legs weakened, and she stumbled back, running her hand from her forehead through her hair, trying to steady herself.

“Why do they al-always blame me?” Layla murmured, her voice cracking as her legs gave way beneath her. She felt the ground slipping from under her, the emotional weight finally too much to bear.

Just as she was about to collapse, a firm yet gentle hand pressed against her back, steadying her. Lucius. His touch anchored her, and for a moment, she leaned into it, drawing strength from his silent support. Slowly, she tilted her head, her tear-filled eyes meeting his concerned gaze. But before the emotion could overflow, she quickly averted her eyes, swallowing down the knot in her throat.

“I’m sorry,” Layla whispered, her voice trembling as she tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. She clenched her fists, determined not to show her vulnerability. She wouldn’t allow herself to break down, not in front of Lucius. If she cried now, it would be as though she was admitting defeat, showing weakness.

Lucius frowned, his hand still resting protectively on her back. “Why are you sorry?” he asked gently, his tone filled with confusion and a touch of frustration.

“I-I don’t know,” Layla stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. She didn’t even understand her own feelings at that moment. Everything was crashing down on her—Miriam’s cruel words, the years of blame she had endured, the feeling that she had always been the one at fault for other people’s mistakes.

Lucius’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. He could see the pain Layla was trying so hard to suppress, and it only fueled his desire to do something about it.

“Can I take action?” he asked, his voice firm but laced with the underlying anger he was struggling to contain.

Layla shook her head weakly, forcing herself to stand straight even though her legs still felt shaky. “Don’t waste your energy on them,” she replied, her tone weary but resolute. She knew what Lucius was capable of, but she didn’t want to stir more trouble, not now, not for their sake.

Lucius arched a brow, his expression hardening. “She trampled on your dignity, Layla,” he said, his voice calm but seething with restrained anger. “And you want me to let it go?”