Chapter 2.08: Mob Mentality

This was disgusting and thankfully, the spit landed on the ground. Still, the act drew some attention from shocked civilians. The elderly man smacked her on the shoulder and spoke in a language Leila couldn't understand. A small smirk blossomed on the dark-haired woman's face as she hummed. The money was put back into her pocket as she crossed her arms over her chest. She decided to play it cool before causing any trouble. They were in a public space, meaning she couldn't attack without being caught. Another shot of her being in conflict in the media was going to be poison. The Bryant heir just was an asshole, so a lot of readers chose to side with her. However, she knew nothing of this woman and wanted to tread lightly until she learned more.

"Tahlia!" The old man looked like he was going to combust from his granddaughter's behavior. His frail hands shook as he gripped the table angrily.

The brunette scowled, her ponytail swinging as she lifted her nose at the sight of Leila. This looked ridiculous, as the woman was shorter than the heiress by a large margin. "Take your money, assassin, and go. We don't serve baby killers."

Leila looked at her in utter confusion and cooked her head to the side. "Whose baby are you claiming I've killed? That's a serious accusation to make."

By now, a medium-sized audience had gathered around the trio. They were slowly growing to recognize who the dark-haired woman was. Leila was surprised they hadn't already. Her face was plastered everywhere when she was freed. On government posters, radio broadcasts, and newspapers, it branded her one of two things. A murderer who wrongly was spared or a scorned woman lost in her own mind. And with this recognition, they began to judge her. The mention of her killing a child only made things worse. People started to chatter about their dislike of the assassin and people like her. Those who didn't understand who she was or what was happening just stood, frozen in shock.

The brunette looked around, having noticed that there were hundreds coming to watch. She glared heatedly at Leila, only to see her haughty face. The teen heiress was keeping a leash on her inner self to avoid utter chaos breaking out. If she threatened the girl openly, she would be dog piled or feared. But if she stood here and allowed herself to spit on like a dog, she would never hear the end of it. Just the sight of a noblewoman being berated by a commoner was insanity. Usually, the commoner would know better or the noblewoman would easily dispose of them. But due to the nature of Leila’s identity and the publicity of the situation, this wasn't the case.

"You don't even know what you're talking about, do you? Okay then, let's finish this conversation."

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The dark-haired woman leaned forward, planting her hands on the table. The bags on her items hit against the table's legs, shaking it as she huffed.

"I'm going to assume you're sheltered. Or that you grew up in the countryside oblivious to things. Like politics, war, and high society. Because if you knew the basics of these things, you'd know that I did everything I did legally. And that the claims you've thrown at me are unproven."

She narrowed her eyes, the jade color dulling as she became more serious in tone. "It's odd to me that you would act so carelessly towards someone you believe to be evil enough to kill an infant."

The brunette opened her mouth to protest, but this time her grandfather kicked her shin. In pain, she shut up as the old man started apologizing. The apologies caused a murmur to fill the crowd. Some criticized him, wondering who had raised such a bold woman. Others pitied him and remarked that she disrespected him with her antics. All these comments, of course, mixed with most of the crowd focusing on Leila. They spoke of how she dared walk with acting as if she was innocent. Then someone would retort that she was under the eyes of the law, making more arguments erupt. The entire thing was such a mess that Leila decided to just get up and go. The old man was going blue in the face from it all, and she felt bad for him.

Ten gold coins with ridges on their sides dropped into one of the old man's hands. Leila gave him a genuine smile, choosing to ignore everyone else. He hadn't been cruel to her and was earnest in his endless apologies. The heiress felt bad that he had been working nonstop, then had to deal with so much drama. So, she gave him the money without bothering to buy anything. There was enough for him to eat a meal and get something to drink. Just him, which the elderly man had to have noticed. He started to speak, but by then she turned to walk off. With each step, her expression turned more broken and her heart beat an unstable rhythm. She had a bad time and was going home to hell.

The whole time she walked, Leila could hear people talking about her. Even on the ride home where the sky turned a deep orange and the lanterns died, she still could hear them. The heiress felt exhaustion spread throughout her body. The situation was pretty tame compared to everything else that had happened in this world. But still, the act of being confronted in public was nauseating. They threw a crime that neither she nor Cleo committed onto her. Cleo's name was getting dragged in the mud, and the masses were lapping it up. Leila had realized this early on, but it hurt to be reminded. She had felt the urge to punch the brunette until she cried. The violent urges inside were overflowing, and the teenager was struggling to stop it.

Her head leaned on the cool carriage window and she closed her eyes. 'This is all so tiring.' She winced. The headache she had earlier had grown.

"Miss Cleo," her driver knocked on the barrier between their sides of the carriage. This caused her to open her eyes and face the man. "There appears to be a problem stopping us from moving further."

The dark-haired groaned and wiped at her face with her hands erratically. She wanted to just go lay down in her bed. "Alright, what's going on?"

"Well…" The driver hesitated a moment before finally spitting it out. He was sweating. "Master Cale is standing in the road right in front of us."