'I Do' For Revenge-Chapter 192: Make It Through
~LAYLA~
"Alright," Tye said, straightening up. "So, what’s the call? If she’s the mole, we need to grab her now before she runs."
"And if she’s innocent?" I countered. "If we drag her into an interrogation room after she just watched her boss get blown up, we lose her trust forever. We lose the evidence she promised us. We lose the only leverage we have against Henry."
I took a deep breath. It was a gamble... a massive one.
"Stand down, Tye," I ordered. "Do not intercept."
Tye’s jaw tightened. "Layla..."
"Let her go home. But I want eyes on her apartment. Front door, back door, fire escape. If she so much as opens a window, I want to know. But don’t touch her. We talk to her tomorrow. We ask her about everything, and we get the evidence."
Tye held my gaze for a long second, assessing me. Then, he nodded slowly. "Copy that. Surveillance only."
He stepped out of the room to make the calls, leaving me alone with the weight of the decision I’d just made.
I slumped back against the wall, the adrenaline crash hitting me again. My hand brushed against my pocket, and I felt my phone. I pulled it out, intending to call Helena to confirm she’d gotten home safely.
But then I saw a missed call.
From Marco.
The man who had actually sent the bomb.
I stared at the screen, my blood running cold. I had been reacting all day. Running from the fire, running to the hospital, running the board meeting. I had forgotten I had his number from the business dinner weeks ago.
My thumb hovered over the callback button. This was insane. This was reckless.
I dialled.
It rang once. Twice.
"Layla," a voice answered, sounding amused. "I was wondering when you’d call. I assumed you’d be... busy. Planning a funeral, perhaps?"
The sound of his voice made bile rise in my throat, but I forced it down.
"He’s alive, Marco," I said, my voice cold as ice.
"Is he?" Marco sounded unimpressed. "I mean, it sounds like he’s out of commission... out of the picture. That should serve as a lesson to anyone who threatens me. Now your husband isn’t there to protect you."
"I don’t need him to protect me," I said. "You made a mistake today. You thought blowing up the office would scare me into accepting you? You thought fear would make me compliant?"
"Fear is a powerful motivator."
"Not for me," I snapped. "You didn’t create fear, Marco. You created a war. And you missed the target."
Marco laughed softly, and the chilling sound made my skin crawl. "Did I? The stock tanked. The board is panicked. And your husband is well... who knows. I’d say I hit the bullseye. But you... you are proving to be stubborn. I like that."
"How did you get the bomb in?"
"I use whatever tools are available," he replied vaguely. "But let’s not dwell on the past. Let’s talk about the future. Specifically, the deadline... and you."
"The deadline," I repeated as I tightened my grip on the phone.
"You have forty-eight hours left," Marco said, his tone shifting from amused to business. "Our ninety million, or there’s more where that package came from."
"You’re threatening me?"
"I’m negotiating, Layla. Tick tock. The clock didn’t stop just because Axel went to the hospital."
"I’m not coughing out what I didn’t swallow," I replied. "And I’m coming for you, Marco. Remember that."
"I look forward to it, niña."
The line went dead.
I lowered the phone, my hand shaking slightly from rage. He was so confident. So sure he had won. So certain that I would crumble without Axel standing beside me.
He had no idea who he was dealing with.
The door opened and Tye stepped back in. He took one look at my face, then at the phone in my hand.
"Was that Marco?" he asked. Something told me he had heard a bit of the conversation "You called him."
"I had to know," I said. "He confirmed the deadline. We have forty-eight hours."
"Did he admit to the bomb?"
"He gloated about it," I said bitterly. "He said he uses ’available tools.’ Whatever that means."
"We need answers, Tye. And we can’t wait for them to come to us."
"So what’s the plan?" Tye asked, crossing his arms.
I looked toward the ICU where my husband lay broken. "Tonight we hold the fort. We keep Axel safe. But tomorrow morning, I’m not waiting for Helena to come to work. We’re going to her."
"You want to ambush her?"
"No," I said, straightening my jacket. "I want to look her in the eye when I ask her about the package. I want to see her face when I show her that security log. And I want that evidence against Henry before the sun goes down tomorrow. If Marco wants a war in forty-eight hours, I need ammunition."
Tye nodded slowly, processing the plan. "And if she’s guilty? If she confesses?"
"Then we deal with it," I said. "But I don’t believe she is. Not in my gut. And right now, my gut is all I have left to trust."
"Your gut’s been pretty reliable so far," Tye admitted grudgingly.
"Let’s hope it stays that way."
I walked back to the ICU door, pausing with my hand on the handle. Through the small window, I could see Axel’s still form, the monitors blinking their steady rhythm.
"Get some rest, Tye," I said without turning around. "Shift change in four hours. Tomorrow is going to be a long day."
"What about you?" he asked. "When are you going to rest?"
I pushed open the door, the antiseptic smell washing over me again.
"When this is over," I said quietly. "When my husband is awake. When Henry and Charles are in priso and Marco is dealt with, then I’ll rest."
I stepped inside and let the door close behind me, returning to my vigil at Axel’s bedside.
Forty-eight hours.
Two days to find ninety million dollars we didn’t steal, to prove Henry’s guilt, to protect the company from vultures, and to survive whatever else Marco had planned.
I reached for Axel’s hand again, holding it tight.
"We’re going to make it through this," I whispered to him. "Both of us. Together."
The only response I got was the steady beep of the monitor.
