Chapter 18 Mrs. Tate No More
---
he morning after Grandpa Gregory's revelation felt different.
The silence between Layla and Jasper wasn't as sharp anymore. It lingered - tentative, aching - but softer. Like a wound finally beginning to close, even if the scar remained.
Layla stood on the balcony, the soft breeze tugging gently at her robe. Below, the garden stretched out in full bloom, untouched by the chaos of recent days. She sipped her tea slowly, thoughts swirling heavier than the clouds overhead.
Behind her, the glass door slid open.
Jasper stepped out, his presence hesitant but present - which was more than she could say for the last few days. He was barefoot, hair tousled, his gaze unreadable.
"Morning," he said.
Layla glanced at him. "Morning."
A beat of silence passed between them. Then she exhaled deeply and said what had been building in her chest for days.
"I don't want to be Mrs. Tate anymore."
Jasper's shoulders stiffened, but he didn't look away. "You want to leave?"
"No." She turned toward him fully. "I don't want to be the pretend Mrs. Tate anymore. I don't want to keep living under a name that was never really mine - not like this. I need to find who I really am, outside of all this."
Jasper looked at her for a long moment. "Do you think we could... start over? As ourselves this time?"
"I think we could try," she replied. "But we can't build anything real on lies, Jasper."
He nodded slowly. "Then we stop lying."
---
That afternoon, they sat with Grandpa Gregory in the sunlit living room. The old man listened without interruption as Layla and Jasper told him everything - the truth, finally spoken aloud with no more masks between them.
"We're not pretending anymore," Layla said, voice steady. "I'm not Mrs. Tate. Not in the way the world thinks."
Gregory raised an eyebrow. "And what are you then?"
She smiled faintly. "Someone who's finally ready to stop hiding."
"Good," he said. "You've earned that."
"And I'm ready to deal with the fallout," Jasper added. "Whatever it costs."
"You'll lose the company, your position, the money," Gregory warned.
"I'd rather lose all of that than lose her."
Layla's heart clenched at the way he said it - not grand or poetic, but real. Honest.
"You're your mother's son after all," Gregory murmured with a rare, bittersweet smile.
---
The fallout came quickly.
News spread like wildfire. Investors were furious. His father exploded with rage. But Gregory stood by them, firm and unwavering. Surprisingly, others followed - moved by the honesty, the courage it took to step into the storm.
For the first time in her life, Layla wasn't pretending to be anyone else. Not Mrs. Tate. Not a trophy wife. Just herself.
One evening, weeks later, she sat alone in the study. On the desk before her lay the framed wedding photo that had once fooled everyone. She picked it up, staring at the version of herself who'd smiled so perfectly.
A stranger.
Carefully, she opened the frame and removed the photo. Behind it was the marriage certificate - her name printed in bold beside Jasper's.
Layla Tate.
She stared at it for a long time.
Then folded it in half.
And placed it gently in a drawer.
Not with bitterness.
But with peace.
Because she wasn't Mrs. Tate anymore.
She was Layla - free, strong, still healing, but finally whole.
And whatever came next... it would be real.