Chapter Thirteen

Laila sat reading in a chair next to one of the windows and called out when she heard a knock on the door.

"Come in."

Her father-in-law poked his head in and smiled. She wasn't sure about the man. He always seemed chipper, but she always felt an underlying sensation of menace when she was around him.

"Hello, Laila."

She set her book down. "Hi, Warren. Can I help you?"

"Oh, I hope so. May I come in?"

"Sure." Fortunately, he kept the door open, so she felt safer.

"I have a benefit for the children's hospital tonight, and my date for tonight canceled. I was wondering if you'd go with me?"

Her eyes widened. That was something she never would have guessed. "Oh, well. Roland will be home soon. He said he was in a meeting, so I'm not sure."

"It's taking longer than he thought," Warren said.

Her brows puckered. Why hadn't Roland called her and told her that? "How formal is it?"

"You'll need a full-length dress, and I have to wear my tux. Do you have something you can wear?" he asked.

She thought about the things she brought with her and nodded. "Yes."

"Can you be ready in thirty minutes? I know it's last-minute…" His voice trailed off.

She'd already showered and blow-dried her hair. All she needed to do was get dressed and put on a bit of makeup.

"I can be ready."

His face lit up. "Splendid. I'll meet you down at the front door."

"All right." She watched the door close behind him and had a kernel of unease start to grow in her belly. She reached for her phone and dialed Roland. It rang several times and then went to voicemail.

"Hey, your father asked me to go to some benefit tonight, so if you get home, that's where I will be." She put the phone down and went to get dressed.

Twenty-eight minutes later, she stood by the front door and checked her clutch purse to see if she had cash, lipstick, and her phone when Warren walked down the stairs.

"You look absolutely beautiful, dear," Warren said.

"Thank you. You look very handsome," she said and smiled.

He bowed dramatically and then chuckled. "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Warren kept a conversation going on the ride to the party. He looked at his watch. "I wish I knew why my son is going to so many meetings lately."

Laila had wondered the same thing but hadn't questioned it. She had to admit that during the last few weeks of him not being home for dinner, her thoughts always went to him with another woman, but she couldn't see him betraying her like that, especially after knowing what her mother had gone through.

They pulled up to a large building, and her door opened. She was helped out, and then Warren came around and hooked his arm through hers.

"Everyone is going to be so jealous of me," Warren whispered and then grinned. "Has Roland ever taken you to one of these?"

"No."

"That surprises me. He usually enjoys these parties."

That was something she'd ask about later. Could he be embarrassed of her? He knew she had only pretended to be slow and why, so that couldn't be it.

Warren gave their names at the door.

"Have a nice evening," the man said.

"Are you hungry, or would you rather have a drink?"

"I think a spritzer with lemon sounds good," she said.

Warren's eyebrows rose. "Are you not feeling well?"

"No. That's not it. I just don't do well with alcohol."

He smiled and led her into the main ballroom. The chandeliers sparkled and made different colored lights fill the room. Several people were dancing in the middle of the room while a long buffet table was set up against one of the walls. There were tables and chairs scattered around and a fancy bar across the room.

A gasp tore from her mouth when she caught sight of Roland and a woman slow-dancing with their arms around each other. It looked very intimate, like they'd known each other for a long time. The song stopped, and Roland led her off the dance floor and over to a table with a few other couples. His father's voice was what got her through the fog of despair that left her frozen.

"Oh, dear. I'm so disappointed in that son of mine," Warren said.

Someone at the table got Roland's attention and pointed their way. When he stood and took a step toward her, she yanked her arm from Warren's grip, turned, and fled.

She vaguely heard her name called but didn't stop or look back. She just needed to get far away from everyone until she could think straight.

She dodged some hands that tried to stop her. She burst through the door and looked right and left for an escape route. She caught sight of a few cabs across the street and ran that way. She never heard the screams and shouts from people when she was hit by a car. Fortunately, it wasn't going fast, but she was a small woman, so she was more likely to get hurt.

She felt herself fall, and the sudden impact of the concrete stunned her for a moment, and then she started to drift off before blackness took over.

Was this it? Was she going to die now? She felt a tear run from the corner of her eye. She should have felt more devastated at the thought, but all she could see was her world crumbling around her, so what was the point?