Chapter 8: A Glimmer of Hope

*Layla*

With a renewed purpose, I pushed myself out of bed and quickly washed and got dressed in a pair of Dante’s baggy sweats and a baseball cap. I scribbled a hasty note to Dante, telling him that I had some errands to run and that I would be back later. I felt a pang of guilt at the lie, but I pushed it aside, knowing that this was something I had to do.

I slipped out of the penthouse, made my way to the street, and hailed a taxi to my apartment to dress in my own clothes and look presentable when I saw Maria. 

An hour later, I drove myself to the bank where I hoped to find her. As I wound through the busy city streets, I tried to calm my racing heart, reminding myself that this was just a fact-finding mission, nothing more.

When I arrived at the bank, I took a deep breath and stepped inside, scanning the lobby for any sign of Maria. I was just about to give up and ask one of the tellers when I heard a familiar voice call out my name.

"Layla? Is that you?"

I spun around and found myself face to face with Maria, looking just as kind as I remembered. She was in her late fifties, with kind eyes and a warm, maternal presence. She had worked as my father's secretary for over two decades and had been a constant source of support for our family. 

Her hair, once a rich chestnut brown, was now streaked with silver and pulled back into a neat bun. She wore a simple but elegant dress, her appearance professional yet approachable.

Despite the years that had passed since my father's death, her calm, reassuring demeanor put me at ease, and I knew that I could trust her as my father had with anything.

She pulled me into a warm hug, and for a moment, I felt like a little girl again, safe and loved in her embrace.

"Maria," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry to bother you at work, but I needed to talk to you. It's about my father."

Maria's eyes widened, and she glanced around the lobby before lowering her voice. "Of course, my dear. Let's go somewhere a little more private."

She led me to a small conference room off the main lobby, closing the door behind us and gesturing for me to sit down. "Now, tell me everything," she encouraged with her gentle voice.

And so I did. I told her about my mother's debts to Marco and his threats. I left out the dangerous game I had been forced to play with Dante DeLuca. I told her I wanted to get in touch with my father’s allies to see if that could help us.

Through it all, Maria listened quietly, her expression growing more and more concerned. When I finally finished, she reached out and took my hand, squeezing it gently.

"Oh, Layla." She looked at me with sympathy. "I had no idea things had gotten so bad for you and your mother. I'm so sorry I wasn't there to help."

I shook my head, blinking back tears. "It's not your fault, Maria. I just... I don't know what to do. I feel like I'm drowning, and I can't see a way out."

She was quiet for a moment, her brow furrowed in thought. "Your father," she started hesitantly. "He left something for you. Something he made me promise to give you if anything happened to him."

I felt my heart skip a beat, my eyes widening in shock. "What? What are you talking about?"

Maria stood up and walked over to a small safe in the corner of the room, quickly spinning the dial and pulling out a thick envelope. She handed it to me, her expression grave.

"I don't know what's inside," she said quietly. "Your father made me swear not to open it. But he said that if you ever found yourself in trouble, if you ever needed help, this would be the key to unlocking the truth."

I stared down at the envelope in my hands, my mind reeling with the possibilities. Could this be the answer I had been searching for? The way out of the mess that had become my life?

I looked up at Maria, my eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you," I whispered, my voice trembling. "Thank you for keeping this safe for me."

Maria smiled, her eyes soft with understanding. "Of course, my dear. Your father loved you more than anything in this world. I know he wanted to keep you and your mother from that side of his life… I think he… I mean, I know he would have done anything to protect you."

I nodded, swallowing back the lump in my throat. "I miss him. Every day."

Maria pulled me into another hug, holding me close. "I know, Layla. But he's still with you, watching over you. And whatever happens, know that you're not alone. You have people who love you and want to help you, if you'll let them."

I pulled back, wiping away my tears and nodding. "I know. And I'm grateful for that, more than I can say."

I left the bank feeling lighter than I had in days. The envelope in my purse felt like a lifeline.

I felt a flicker of hope ignite in my chest. I didn't know what secrets my father's envelope would reveal. But for the first time, I felt like I had a chance to take back control of my own life, to break free from Marco.

I was just about to get in my car when I caught sight of a familiar figure striding towards me, his expression thunderous. It was Anton, and he looked angrier than I had ever seen him.

My heart leapt into my throat, and I instinctively took a step back, my hand tightening around the strap of my purse. I knew that Anton must have followed me.

But before I could react, before Anton could reach me, I heard another voice calling my name from the opposite direction.

"Layla!"

I spun around and saw Dante hurrying towards me, his expression a bit dark with a mixture of relief and confusion. How did he know I was here? Did he follow me or have me followed as well? 

Tiny icicles danced down my spine as I waited for the two sides of my deception to intersect. 

I glanced back at Anton, who had stopped in his tracks at the sight of Dante. But the man I was falling in love with didn’t seem to even notice him, and Anton had the good sense to just walk past me without a word. Relief washed over me. 

When Dante reached me, his arms folded around me in a protective embrace. "Are you alright, baby girl?" he murmured in a low and soothing voice. "Why did you leave the penthouse alone? I forgot to tell you the car and driver are at your disposal too."

I nodded, burying my face in his chest and breathing in his comforting scent. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. I just had some things I needed to take care of."

Dante pulled back, his eyes searching mine. "I understand," he said softly, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone. "But next time, please tell me where you're going. I don't like the idea of you wandering around the city alone. I hate to admit it, but I have more than a few enemies and once they know that you are mine…"

I nodded knowing all too well how far his enemies would go to use me against him. 

I swallowed hard, nodding. "I will. I promise."

Dante smiled, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead and then he turned and led me towards his waiting car.

“My car is in the parking lot,” I told him. 

“I’ll send someone to come and get it. In the meantime, we can stop by your apartment for you to pack a few essentials and then head back to the penthouse.” His hand never left the small of my back. I could just see Anton off in the distance and felt his eyes boring in my direction as we got in the car, and I knew that this encounter would be reported back to Marco.

But as I settled into the plush leather seat of the car, Dante's hand finding mine and twining our fingers together, I couldn't bring myself to care. I had the envelope, I had Dante, and I had hope.

As the car pulled away from the curb, Dante's eyes fell on the envelope clutched tightly in my hand. "What's that?" he asked, his voice curious.

I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal. 

"I went to the bank to see my father's former secretary," I answered softly, my fingers tracing the edges of the envelope. "She had something for me, something my father left for me before he died."

Dante's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Your father had a secretary?"

I nodded, a sad smile tugging at my lips. "Her name is Maria. She worked with him for many years. She was like family to us."

"What was your father's name and what did he do?" Dante asked, his voice gentle.

"Michael," I told him softly, my heart clenching at the sound of his name. "Michael Jennings."

Dante's eyes widened, a look of shock and recognition flashing across his face. "Michael Jennings?" he repeated, his voice hushed. "Your father was Michael Jennings?"

I nodded, my brow furrowing in confusion. "Did you know him?"

Dante shook his head, his gaze dropping to the envelope in my hands. "Not personally. But I knew of him. He was well-respected in certain circles, known for his strategic mind and his discretion."

I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around the envelope. "He was. He always tried to do what was best for our family, even if it meant getting involved in things he shouldn't have."

Dante's hand found mine, his fingers twining with my own. "I'm so sorry, Layla," he murmured sympathetically. "I can't imagine how difficult it must have been to lose him, especially so young."

I swallowed hard, blinking back tears, just catching the fact that I didn’t tell Dante how old I was when my father died. 

"It was," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the hum of the car engine. 

"What's inside the envelope?" he asked again.

I shook my head, clutching the envelope to my chest. "I don't know," I admitted. "Maria said that my father made her promise not to open it. That it was for me, and me alone."

Dante's brow furrowed, his eyes searching mine. "But why now?" he asked. "Why did Maria choose this moment to give it to you, after all these years?"

I opened my mouth to respond but found myself at a loss for words. The truth was, I couldn’t admit that it was me that called her for help with my mother and Marco. And then I realized I never told him when my father died. 

"I don't know," I said, praying he couldn’t see the new born suspicion in my eyes and didn’t hear the lie in my voice.