Love On Ice: Don’t Leave Me, My Charming Liar

Chapter 162: "I'm safe. He treats me well," Nyla replied softly, her gaze dropping to hide the turmoil in her heart. Her affection was deep and genuine, but their relationship was destined to remain hidden from the world. Nyla wasn't really part of the Brooks family, so she spent the New Year holiday mostly alone. That was, until Bonnie and Austen extended an unexpected dinner invitation. She accepted without hesitation, and now here she was, seated across from the couple, watching their affectionate dynamic unfold like a private performance.

"You two have become so disgustingly lovey-dovey since getting together," Nyla teased, resting her chin on one hand while lazily swirling her drink with a straw. Bonnie flushed, nudging Austen's arm off her waist. "That's not true." Unbothered, Austen added another piece of meat to Bonnie's plate and then casually slipped his arm back around her like it belonged there. Nyla bit her lip, wondering if coming to this dinner was a mistake. Still, a flicker of envy crept in. Bonnie and Austen had worked through their hurdles with surprising ease, their connection seamless and drama-free.

Unlike her own situation. "So," Bonnie said, her words slightly garbled as she fanned her mouth after taking a bite of steaming food, "Any luck with the evidence?" Nyla reached for a glass of water to offer Bonnie, but Austen beat her to it, sliding one across the table. "I've been tracking down former employees from my family's company," Nyla said. "There might still be records-leads I can use." Bonnie nodded thoughtfully, but a mischievous glint soon replaced her concern. gσv.cøm - check it out! "And what about you and Murray? Any progress there?" Nyla didn't miss a beat.

"We're just friends." Bonnie's face fell in exaggerated disappointment. "Seriously? Friends? So Murray's out, but Ethan still has a shot?" Nyla chuckled, brushing off the jab. Just as she went to take another bite of food, a wave of nausea rolled over her. Her stomach twisted violently, and she froze, the room spinning for a moment before she abruptly stood. Without a word, she bolted for the- Bonnie and Austen exchanged startled glances, barely processing what had happened before the sound of retching reached their ears. Bonnie dropped her fork and hurried after her. "Nyla! Are you okay?

Did something you ate cause this?" Austen followed close behind, holding out a tissue when they reached her. His brow furrowed, concern etched across his face as he observed her. Nyla slumped against the toilet, her breath shallow and ragged. She'd been feeling off for days now-nausea, stomach cramps-but it always came and went. She'd chalked it up to stress, maybe bad eating habits. "I'm fine," she managed, though her voice was barely above a whisper. Bonnie didn't buy it. "You're not fine.

We need to get you to a hospital." Austen, with suspicion in his mind, opened his mouth to speak but then held his tongue. Rinsing her mouth, Nyla turned to them and forced a faint smile. "I already had a checkup. The doctor said it's just a stomach issue. I need rest and lighter meals, that's all." Bonnie still looked unconvinced but sighed in reluctant acceptance. "Fine. But no more heavy food tonight. Austen can make you something light instead." Nyla nodded, grateful for the out, though inwardly she resolved to book another doctor's appointment soon.

When Bonnie finally left the bathroom, Austen lingered. Nyla caught the way he hesitated at the door, his hand brushing the frame. "What is it, Austen?" she asked softly. He shook his head, his voice low. "Just... don't let it slide. Go to the hospital for a check-up, okay? Soon." Nyla gave him a small nod, but she didn't think it was serious. Later that night, back in the solitude of the villa, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen-Murray. They hadn't dined together in days, the holidays putting a pause on their usual rhythm. She picked up, her voice casual.

"Hey, what's up?" There was a beat of silence on the other end, and then Murray's voice came through. "Jaxton's dead. He killed himself." . . .