Chapter 3 Chapter: 3

LAYLA

I don't know how long I stood there, frozen in place. The loud shrill of a phone ringing somewhere suddenly startled me, kick-starting my heart into a frantic rhythm, ten times faster and louder until it was all I could hear.

The ringing abruptly stopped, only to start again seconds later, echoing through the otherwise dead-silent living room.

With my heart lodged in my throat, I finally forced myself to take a step toward the woman whose voice had now been replaced by the relentless ringing of her phone.

She can't be dead, this has to be a dream.

A terrible, terrible dream.

But as I drew closer, I couldn't deny the evidence staring me in the face.

Maybe she wasn't dead.

Maybe she was still breathing.

Maybe it wasn't too late to get her to a hospital.

Please... please be alive.

My heels slipped against the marble floor as I dropped to my knees beside Stella. Blood continued to spread beneath her head, growing wider, staining the pristine white floor a horrifying crimson.

My trembling fingers hovered over her shoulder before I finally forced myself to touch her.

“Stella?” My voice came out as nothing more than a whisper. “Stella, can you hear me?”

No response.

“Oh, God…” I flopped back on my ass before hurriedly scrambling away, one trembling hand clamped over my mouth as bile burned the back of my throat.

The amount of blood was staggering. The bright lights overhead only made the gruesome scene even worse.

I fumbled for my phone, intending to call 911, but it wasn't there.

I must've dropped it somewhere.

The ringing came again, this time much closer, cutting through my panic. I crawled toward the coffee table where the phone lay, but the call ended just as I grabbed it.

Without thinking, I dialed 911 as I hurried back toward Stella. Had she lost too much blood?

What if she died before the ambulance arrived? What if I got sent to prison for murder?

The more I think about it, the more I panic. My stomach twisted violently.

But I'm innocent.

I didn't kill her.

It was just a horrible accident.

My breathing turned ragged as panic stole the air from my lungs. What evidence did I have? Who would believe me?

Why was I even here?

The police would ask exactly that. They'd ask questions. Questions that if answered would only implicate me.

My eyes prickled with tears. I squeezed them shut and shook my head before slowly opening them again.

Nothing had changed.

This wasn't a dream.

The police will investigate. They'd find out who Stella was. They'd learn she was Spencer's mistress. They'd know exactly why I'd come here.

They'd never believe me, they'd think I pushed her. I could already picture the headlines.

Jealous Wife Murders Husband's Mistress.

A crime of passion.

A homicide.

Exactly the kind of story everyone would believe.

Chloe.

The thought of my daughter hit me like a freight train. If I went to prison, who would take care of her?

Chloe already had a weak heart, and it was obvious Spencer didn't care about her anymore. He hadn't been involved in her life for a long time now. It was as though he'd simply... given up on her.

My baby needed me.

I couldn't go to prison.

“No…” I whispered, shaking my head frantically. “That's not going to happen. I won't let it.”

“911, what's your emergency?” a calm female voice asked through the phone.

I froze.

Panic crawled up my throat and nearly choked me. My thumb hovered over the screen as I trembled for several long seconds before I finally ended the call.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

The sound of my own breathing became deafening.

I staggered to my feet and began pacing the living room, deliberately avoiding the growing pool of blood behind me.

Think.

Think, Layla.

There had to be someone who could help me. Someone who would believe me.

Someone who'd know what to do. My gaze landed on the phone in my hand.

Spencer.

The irony wasn't lost on me. He was the reason I was standing in this nightmare.

But he was also my husband and my business partner.

The father of my child. At one point, Spencer had been my best friend. Surely the years we'd spent together had to mean something to him.

Tears burned my eyes.

No.

No, you've lost your mind, Layla. Spencer is the last person you should be calling.

He'll think you killed her. I pressed a trembling hand against my forehead, it feels like my brain is about to explode.

“But I didn't kill her,” I whispered to myself. “I really didn't.”

It was an accident.

A horrible, unfortunate accident.

My entire body froze as the doorbell suddenly rang.

Once.

Twice.

Then the electronic keypad beeped as whoever stood outside began entering the password.

Every thought vanished from my head, replaced by pure, unadulterated terror.

Suddenly I couldn't move, couldn't breathe or think.

The door swung open and he stepped inside, tall and impressive.

Spencer.

“Where did you keep your pho…” Spencer began only to stop mid-sentence.

When his gaze lifted from his phone, and his eyes collided with mine. He went completely still.

“Layla?” he said, more confused than surprised. “W-Why... what are you doing here?”

“Spencer, I can explain. It's not what you think.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them.

His brows pulled together.

“Layla, what have you…” His eyes finally landed on Stella.

He staggered backward. “You killed her?”

I shook my head violently. “No. No, it wasn't me. I swear.” My teeth chattered so hard I could barely speak. “S-Spencer... help me. I... I don't know what to do. I never meant for any of this to happen. I just wanted proof.”

A sob ripped from my throat. “Please, Spence... I need you.”

My words dissolved into hysterical crying.

“I'm so damn scared, Spencer. I don't know what to do. We were just talking. She started talking about Chloe and.. and I told her to stop. I didn't touch her, Spence. I swear I didn't. She just lost her footing and fell down the stairs. You have to believe me.”

I took a step toward him. Spencer instantly took one back. He dragged both hands through his hair, gripping it so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“God, Layla... What were you thinking? Do you have any idea what you've done?”

“I didn't do it, Spence. I swear I didn't.” My voice was raw from crying. “Please... tell me you believe me.”

“It doesn't fucking matter what I believe,” he snapped. “What matters is the evidence. Stella is fucking dead, and you're the only person here at the time of her death.”

I grabbed both his hands, my entire body trembling. “Why won't you believe me? I told you I didn't do it. The police will know after they examine the scene.”

My eyes widened. “Yes... I should call the police. They'll know I'm innocent after the autopsy. They'll know she hit her head and that it was an accident.”

I quickly picked up Stella's phone and began dialing.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Spencer ripped the phone from my hand.

“Give me the phone, Spence. If we call the police they'll know I'm innocent.”

Spencer slammed the phone against the wall before he grabbed my shoulder, shaking me hard.

“Fucking think with your brain Layla,” he gritted. “Let's assume Stella really did fall and hit her head. The question is, how did she fall? How are you going to prove she fell on her own? What evidence do you have?”

“I…I…” I stuttered.

His voice dropped lower. “If you call the police right now, you'll be charged with murder and spend the rest of your life in prison.”

I slowly shook my head as his words sank in. “What should I do then?” I whispered desperately. “Spencer, you know I can't go to prison. What will happen to Chloe? To my mother? How will they survive? I'm the only one taking care of them.”

Hot tears spilled down my cheeks. “I never should've come here. If I hadn't... none of this would've happened.”

“Goddammit, Layla, stop crying, let me think.”

He let go of me and took a step back. He yanked his tie loose before pacing back and forth in quick, sharp strides.

“Fuck... this is all my fault. If it weren't for me, you would've never come here. Then none of this would've happened. I dragged my family into this goddamn mess.”

I watched him with growing unease. He abruptly stopped.

“Did anyone see you come in?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I didn't see anyone.”

“Good.” He muttered the word mostly to himself before calmly rolling up the sleeves of his expensive dress shirt.

A chill crawled down my spine. “Spencer, what's going on?”

He turned and grabbed my shoulders.

“Listen to me very carefully, Layla.” His voice had become frighteningly calm.

“I need you to pull yourself together.

“I... I don't understand,” I stuttered, lips trembling.

“Nobody can know about this. Do you understand me? I'll clean up this mess before our entire family gets buried beneath this scandal.”

“I... I don't understand, Spencer. What are you saying?”

His fingers tightened around my shoulders.

“I'm saying I'm going to protect you. I'm going to protect our family. The police cannot know you were here.”

A tear slid down my cheek. “Does... does that mean you believe me?”

His expression softened. “Of course I do.”

His thumb gently brushed away one of my tears.

“We're in this together, Layla. You're my wife. The mother of my child. I'll do everything I can to keep our family safe.”

A broken sob escaped me as I nodded, even though I still didn't understand what he was planning.

My thoughts were all over the place. “What are we going to do?” I whispered.

Spencer held my gaze for a long moment.

Then something cold and calculating flickered in his gray eyes. “We need a scapegoat.”

“What?”

“Someone who already has a criminal record,” he added.

My stomach dropped. The idea of framing another person, no matter who they were, made me feel sick.

Adding to the crushing guilt of Stella's death. Suddenly I felt dizzy.