Chapter 8 High School Re
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Layla hadn’t expected to feel nervous.
Not after all she had endured. Not after signing a billion-dollar contract. Not after moving into a mansion with a man like Jasper Tate.
And yet, as she stood in front of the mirror fixing her pearl earrings, her hands trembled just a little.
The invitation had been innocent enough — her old high school’s ten-year reunion. Ayla, her bubbly best friend from the past, had called and practically begged her to go.
“Come on! Let everyone see how far you’ve come,” Ayla had said excitedly. “And maybe, just maybe, show your old bullies that karma does exist.”
Layla hadn’t planned on showing off. But Ayla had already told half the reunion group chat that Layla was married to a billionaire — Jasper Tate, no less.
That made things... complicated.
Jasper had been surprisingly chill about it.
“Want me to come with you?” he’d asked, looking amused.
Layla shook her head. “No. You’ve got meetings all day. I’ll survive a few hours.”
He raised a brow. “You sure?”
“I’ll be fine,” she’d insisted.
She shouldn’t have been so confident.
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The reunion was held at the old event hall near campus. Champagne flowed, music played softly, and everyone was dressed to impress. People were laughing, hugging, exchanging stories.
And then came them.
The same girls who used to whisper about her secondhand clothes. The ones who tripped her in the hallway, who laughed when she cried in the bathroom.
“Layla,” one of them, Brianna, said in a high, mocking voice. “Wow. You actually showed up.”
Layla forced a polite smile. “Hi, Brianna. It’s been a long time.”
Brianna's eyes raked over her simple, elegant dress. “Still dressing like you shop at clearance sales.”
Another girl snorted. “Did Ayla really say you married Jasper Tate? Like, the Jasper Tate?”
“She’s such a liar,” someone whispered behind her.
Ayla stepped in, arms crossed. “She’s not lying.”
But they were already laughing.
“Right,” Brianna said sarcastically. “And I’m dating Elon Musk.”
Then it happened.
A glass of water — cold and sharp — splashed against Layla’s chest.
She gasped, stunned as it soaked her dress, her makeup smudging just slightly as water dripped down her cheek.
“Oh no,” Brianna said with a fake pout. “My hand slipped.”
People had stopped dancing. Stopped laughing. Phones were already out, recording.
Layla blinked, humiliated.
And then a voice — sharp, lethal, cold.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
The crowd parted.
Jasper Tate strode in like a storm.
His black suit fit him like it had been stitched by gods, his eyes furious, jaw tight. He didn’t even glance at the people whispering his name in shock.
He went straight to Layla.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low.
She nodded shakily.
Then he turned to Brianna.
“You just assaulted my wife,” he growled.
Brianna paled. “W-wife?”
Jasper stepped closer, towering. “I should have you arrested.”
“It was just water—”
“You humiliated her.”
The silence was deafening.
Jasper reached for Layla’s hand and pulled her gently into his side. “Every person in this room who laughed — who recorded — will regret it.”
Then he looked directly into the nearest camera phone and smiled coldly. “Let’s see how future employers feel about people who publicly bully a pregnant woman.”
Gasps echoed.
Layla blinked. “Jasper—”
But he wasn’t done.
He turned to the DJ. “Play something slow.”
Confused, the DJ obeyed. A soft jazz melody filled the air.
Jasper took Layla’s hand again and guided her to the center of the room.
“Let them stare,” he murmured. “Let them wish they were you.”
And then he danced with her. In front of everyone. Slow, intimate, protective.
Her soaked dress clung to her curves, but he didn’t care. His hand never left the small of her back, his lips occasionally brushing her temple.
And the crowd... fell silent.
Envy replaced mockery. Regret replaced laughter.
Because Layla wasn’t just someone’s wife.
She was his.
---
Later, in the car, wrapped in his coat, Layla whispered, “You didn’t have to do that.”
Jasper looked over. “I wanted to.”
She hesitated. “Why did you really come?”
He leaned closer, eyes locked on hers. “Because I knew they’d try to break you.”
Layla’s voice was barely audible. “And you?”
“I won’t let anyone break you.”
She exhaled shakily, then leaned her head on his shoulder.
It felt too real.
Too dangerous.
Too right.
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