Page 73 of Once Upon a Beast

“Framed? By who?” Layla asked.

This was going to be the hard part. This was the part of the story that I was dreading. I might be getting my father back; I might be able to right a wrong for him but it would be devastating for Layla. I wanted to prevent her from ever knowing. I wanted to make this go away from her, but I knew I couldn’t and ultimately, she wouldn't want me to. There was no way to sugar coat it. I just needed to tell her.

“Your father,” I said.

She looked at me as if she hadn’t heard me. She squinted her eyes and I could see her brain trying to come to terms with what I had said. “My father?” she asked.

“Yes, your father. Before you freak out, please hear me out. I want to tell you everything. Let me show you the evidence and then we can go from there.”

Layla didn’t say anything for a minute, her eyes roamed over the living room but I could tell she wasn’t seeing anything. Her mind was reeling. After a few minutes, she focused on me and said, “Okay.”

“Okay,” I said and tried to give her a reassuring smile.

For the next hour I went over the story that Garrett had told me, using the evidence he had to back everything up. Layla didn’t say much as I spoke. Occasionally, she would ask a question but she didn’t make any comments or pass judgment.

When I was done, I sat back on the couch and didn’t say anything. I looked at Layla who was pale and quiet. It was a lot to take in and I wasn’t sure how much she had comprehended.

“If you want, we can go and talk to Garrett or my father. If you need clarification on anything, I will do what I can to get it for you. Whatever you need, just tell me,” I said.

“No. That’s okay. You’ve been very thorough. Or I should say Garrett and your father have. There’s no doubt after looking at all of this that your father was framed by mine.” Layla stood up and walked to the window and looked out.

I moved off the couch and stood behind her. I didn’t reach out to touch her but I wanted to. I ached to hold her, to comfort her, but I wasn’t sure if I had that right. After a few more minutes of silence I asked, “What do you want to do?”

She turned and looked at me, her mouth open and her eyes were wide. She ran her hands over her arms as if she was trying to warm herself. “What do I want to do? This isn’t my choice to make. There is no choice. We have to get your father out of jail. My father has to pay.”

It was that simple and yet that complicated. Of course, Layla would want to do what was right. She wouldn’t want my father to spend any more time in jail but what would it cost her. What would it cost me?

“He is your father,” I said.

“Yes. But he’s a criminal. He’s lied to me my whole life. He’s used you to get what he wanted and he ruined your father’s life. All for what? Because he felt jilted? Who does that? Why does someone do that? The man I thought was my father wouldn’t. My father did this so he isn’t the man that I know, he isn’t the man that I love. He’s a monster and he needs to be taken down.”

I could hear the hurt in Layla’s voice as it rose the longer she spoke. I could see the unshed tears in her eyes. I could see how much this was hurting her, but she still wanted to do the right thing.

“What does that mean for you?” I asked.

“For me? What do I matter? What about you? What about your father? Your father was incarcerated for something he didn’t do. You lost years with your father over jealousy. What about you and your projects? You’ve been associated with my father for years. How will that affect you and what you’ve done? What do you want to do?” She waved her arms as she spoke as the ramifications started to sink in. I could tell the more she talked, the more she realized what this all meant.

“I’ll survive. It’s a lot to process and I’m not sure I have. All I could think about was how you would be, how you would handle this,” I admitted.

Layla ran her hands up her arms and shook her head. “It sucks. It sucks for everyone. I can’t wrap my head around my father doing this. Or that he got away with it for so many years. It shows how much your father cares and loves you that he would wait until you knew, until you were okay with going forward before he did.”

“I’m not the one who needs to be okay with this. Are you?” I asked.

“No. I’m not okay with any of this. I don’t think I ever will be,” Layla looked at me like I was crazy. “I don’t know how you could. I don’t know how you can even look at me, much less be worried about what I’m feeling knowing what my father did to you and yours,” Layla said.

She looked so sad, so defeated, I had no choice but to pull her into my arms. She went willingly and she pressed her face against my chest. I tightened my hold around her as I felt her body shake as she cried.

“None of this is your fault. I don’t blame you. I was worried you would hate me for bringing this to you and that you would never want to talk to me again,” I said.

Layla leaned back and looked at me. Her eyes were red from crying and some of her mascara had run down her face. Her face was deathly pale, her lipstick was smudge, and she had never looked more beautiful to me. I saw her strength, her resilience, and most especially her love and devotion for me. “I could never hate you. I love you,” she said.

I didn’t know how much I needed to hear her say those words until she did. I smiled down at her and said, “I love you too.”

“Good,” she said and let out a half-hearted laugh. “What are we going to do now?”

She moved back into my arms. I ran my hands up and down her back and put my head on top of hers. “I have no idea,” I answered honestly. “Will you still love me if I’m broke?”

Layla shook her head and playful slapped my ass. “You idiot, I don’t love you because you’re rich. I love you because you’re so good in bed.”