'I Do' For Revenge-Chapter 66: His Family

~AXEL~

The morning light filtered through my bedroom curtains, but I’d been awake for hours already. Today was different, as it marked the twentieth year since my parents died.

I stared at the ceiling, letting the familiar weight of grief settle over me like a heavy blanket. Every year, this day brought back the same crushing combination of sadness and rage that never seemed to diminish with time.

"Good morning, sir," Martha’s voice came through the door along with her gentle knock. "Breakfast is ready."

"Give all the staff the day off, Martha," I called back. "Including yourself. Take a paid day."

"Sir? Are you sure? What about meals and..."

"I’m sure. Go home to your family. That’s an order."

I heard her footsteps retreat down the hallway, followed by muffled conversations as she informed the other staff members. Soon, the house fell into the kind of silence I needed today.

After a long, scalding shower that did nothing to wash away the memories, I dressed in a simple black suit and drove to the flower shop downtown.

"The usual, Mr. O’Brien?" the elderly florist asked when she saw me.

"Yes. White roses and baby’s breath."

She prepared the arrangement, her kind eyes reflecting the sympathy she’d shown me every year for the past decade. I paid without words and drove to Riverside Cemetery.

The drive to my parents’ graves was one I could make with my eyes closed. Plot 47B, under the old oak tree where my mother had once said she’d like to rest someday. She just never imagined it would be so soon, or that my father’d join her on the same day.

I knelt down and placed the fresh flowers next to their headstones, replacing the weathered ones from last year.

"Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad," I said quietly, my voice cracking slightly. "It’s been another year."

The wind rustled through the oak leaves above me, and for a moment, I could almost pretend they were listening.

"I know I always promise you justice on this day, and I know it’s taken me twenty years to get close." I ran my fingers over the engraved dates on their stones. "But I’m finally in position now. I married his daughter, just like I said I would."

The irony wasn’t lost on me. Charles Watson had destroyed my family, and now I was using his own daughter to destroy him.

"She’s... she’s different than I expected," I continued, surprised by my own words. "Layla doesn’t know what kind of monster her father really is... maybe just a little. Hell, she doesn’t even know what he did to you both."

I closed my eyes, remembering that awful night fifteen years ago when everything changed.

"I still see it sometimes, you know? The way the police officer looked when he told me it was an accident. But we both knew better, didn’t we?"

My hands clenched into fists.

I stayed there for another hour, talking to them about my plans, about Layla, about the complicated feelings I was developing for a woman who was supposed to be just a means to an end.

"I promise you’ll have justice soon," I whispered finally. "Charles Watson will pay for what he did. I just... I hope I don’t destroy an innocent person in the process."

The drive home felt longer than usual. The house was empty when I returned, exactly as I’d requested. I went straight to my study and pulled out a bottle of whiskey I kept for occasions like this.

I poured myself a generous glass and settled into my leather chair, surrounded by the files and documents that had consumed my life for the past decade. Financial records, witness statements, private investigator reports... all the evidence I’d been gathering against Charles Watson.

"Here’s to you both," I said to the empty room, raising my glass.

The first drink went down smooth. The second burned less. By the fourth, the edges of my grief had softened into something more manageable. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

I pulled out my phone and scrolled through the photos I’d taken of my parents’ grave today, then back to older photos of us together. Family vacations, birthdays, Christmas mornings. All the memories Layla’s father had stolen from me.

The whiskey made everything feel more intense. The anger, the sadness, the loneliness of carrying this burden for twenty years.

"Why did you have to be so damn ethical?" I asked a photo of my father. "If you’d just looked the other way like everyone else, you’d still be here."

But even as I said it, I knew that wasn’t who they were. My parents had died because they refused to compromise their principles. They’d died because they’d tried to do the right thing... because someone saw them as a threat.

I poured another drink, this time filling the glass higher. The room was starting to feel smaller, the walls closing in with memories and regrets.

My phone buzzed with a text from one of my business contacts, something about a Monday morning meeting. I stared at the screen, but the words seemed to blur together.

"Twenty years," I said aloud. "Twenty fucking years, and I’m still talking to ghosts."

I stood up too quickly, the alcohol making the room spin slightly. As I reached for the bottle to pour yet another drink, my elbow caught the edge of my whiskey glass.

CRASH!

The crystal tumbler shattered against the hardwood floor, sending shards skating across the room and whiskey pooling around my feet.

"Axel!"

Layla’s voice cut through my alcohol-hazed thoughts. I looked up to see her rushing into the study, her eyes wide with concern.

"Jesus, are you hurt?" she asked, carefully stepping around the broken glass.

"I’m fine," I said, though my voice sounded hollow even to my own ears.

"You don’t look fine. You look..." She paused, studying my face. "You look devastated."

I laughed bitterly. "Perceptive as always."

"What happened? Why are you drinking alone in here?"

"It’s nothing you need to worry about."

"Axel, please. You’ve been there for me through everything lately. Let me be there for you."

Her voice was so gentle, so genuinely concerned, that something inside me cracked open. Maybe it was the whiskey, or maybe it was the emotional weight of the day, but I found myself speaking words I’d never intended to say.

"Today is the anniversary of my parents’ death."

"Oh, Axel. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know."

"There’s a lot you don’t know," I said, sinking back into my chair. "A lot I haven’t told you about why we’re really married."

She moved closer, carefully avoiding the broken glass. "What do you mean?"

I looked up at her, this woman who had become so much more than just part of my revenge plan, and felt the last of my carefully constructed walls crumbling.

"Your father caused the death of my parents."