CHAPTER 123: THE TRUTH

~AXEL~

"It’s not acting if it’s real, Layla."

The slap hit me before I had a chance to prepare for it; it was sudden and painful as it echoed in the cabin.

My head turned instinctively, mostly from surprise rather than the impact. I froze for a moment, my hand moving slowly to my stinging cheek as I stared at her in disbelief.

Her chest rose and fell quickly in anger as she fought back tears. For a brief moment, we just stood there, frozen in place.

"You know what?" she said finally in a shaky voice. "Let’s just get back to the hunt."

She grabbed the photo of us off the table and stormed out of the cabin, leaving me standing there like an idiot, my cheek throbbing where her palm had connected.

I deserved that. Hell, I probably deserved worse.

I followed her out, maintaining a careful distance as we made our way back through the forest. She walked quickly, her frustration clear in the way she held herself.

I could feel the urge to grab her hand, to stop her and make her hear what I desperately wanted to say.

But I didn’t. I was just going to let her do her thing, give her the space she clearly needed.

The photo had writing on the back, another clue directing us to the firepit area.

By the time we arrived, other couples were already gathering, laughing and chatting like nothing in the world was wrong. Like their lives weren’t complicated messes of contracts and revenge and feelings they couldn’t control.

Layla immediately put on her performance face: the bright smile, the easy laugh, the perfect wife. But I saw the way her hand trembled slightly when she took mine as we joined the circle.

Ellen stood at the center, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. "Wonderful! Everyone’s here. Now for the final part of our hunt, we have a special twist."

"Of course there’s a twist," Layla muttered under her breath, quiet enough that only I heard.

"Each couple will share a personal story about their relationship," Ellen continued. "Something meaningful, something real. When you’re done, you’ll receive your final clue!"

Layla stiffened beside me. We’d rehearsed our fake history a dozen times, perfected every detail of how we met, how we fell in love. But this felt too raw and too close to the truth.

"Who wants to go first?" Ellen asked, scanning the group.

Before Layla could protest, I raised my hand. "We will."

She shot me a look that could have melted steel, but I ignored it, stepping forward and pulling her with me.

"Our first kiss," I started, the lie coming easier than it should have. "Was after a date. We’d been together for a while then, but that night... something shifted."

I looked at Layla, holding her gaze even though she was trying to look anywhere but at me.

"I walked her to her room, and before I could talk myself out of it, I kissed her. And it was..." I paused, and this part wasn’t a lie at all. "It felt like my first kiss all over again. Like every kiss I’d had before didn’t count, didn’t matter. And even now, months later, it still feels like fire."

Her eyes softened slightly, and for a moment, I thought she might lean into me. Instead, she cleared her throat and took over.

"Our wedding," she said, her voice catching slightly on the word. "Was small and intimate. Just us and a few close friends. Axel... he wrote his own vows."

This was true. We had written vows for the ceremony, even though neither of us had meant them at the time.

"He promised to stand beside me, to fight for me, to never let me face anything alone." Her gaze held mine, questioning, wanting. "I believed him then. I... I still do."

The crowd erupted in applause, several couples dabbing at their eyes. Ellen beamed at us, clearly eating up every word.

"Beautiful! Absolutely beautiful!" She handed us a small key. "This unlocks a box in your cabin. Inside, you’ll find your final surprise."

As the other couples took their turns sharing stories, Ellen made another announcement. "Tonight’s dinner will be special; each couple will have a private dining experience at different locations around the retreat grounds. Your box will have your location details!"

"Perfect," Layla said flatly beside me. "More forced intimacy."

We made our way back to the cabin in silence. Inside, we found a locked wooden box on the bed. I used the key Ellen had given us, and the lid opened with a soft click.

Inside was a note in elegant script: Look closer at what’s in front of you.

Beneath it was another card with our dinner location: the lakeside pavilion at sunset.

"Cryptic," Layla said, picking up the note and frowning at it. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Maybe it’s just retreat philosophy. You know, be present in the moment, appreciate what you have."

"Right. Very profound." She tossed the note back in the box. "I’m going to shower and change for dinner."

She disappeared into the bathroom, and I heard the lock click.

Alone to myself, I pulled out my phone, checking for updates from Tye. Three missed calls, two texts, all about Daniel’s situation. My finger hovered over the callback button, but then I looked at the closed bathroom door.

I typed quickly: No updates unless it’s life or death. Handle it. I need time with Layla.

His response came immediately: Hmmm... Just make sure you’re sure of this.

I pocketed the phone and sat on the edge of the bed, running my hands through my hair. The slap still stung, both physically and in a deeper way I wasn’t ready to examine.

—

An hour later, we walked to the lakeside pavilion in stiff silence. The sun was setting, painting the lake in shades of gold and pink. It would have been romantic if we weren’t barely speaking.

The pavilion had been transformed: white lights twinkled above, and a small table for two was set with candles and flowers. A private waiter was there, ready to serve us.

"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. O’Brien," he said pleasantly. "Your dinner will be served in courses. Wine?"

"Yes," we both said simultaneously.

He poured, then discreetly retreated, leaving us alone with the sound of water lapping at the shore.

"So," I said after a long silence. "Are we going to talk about what happened in the cabin?"

"What’s there to talk about?" Layla took a long sip of wine. "I slapped you. You probably deserved it. We move on."

"Layla..."

"I don’t want to do this, Axel. I don’t want to dissect our feelings while sitting at some romantic dinner that’s all for show."

"It doesn’t have to be for show."

"Doesn’t it?" She met my eyes finally. "Everything between us is for show. That’s the whole point."

"Not anymore. I meant what I said in that cabin. All of it."

"Which part? The part where you admitted you only saw me as a chess piece? Or the part where you claimed to have feelings?"

"Both. And I know how that sounds, but it’s the truth. At first, yes, you were part of the plan. But Layla..." I reached across the table, covering her hand with mine. "Somewhere along the way, you stopped being part of the plan and started being the entire point of it."

She pulled her hand back. "That’s a nice line."

"It’s not a line. It’s the truth."