'I Do' For Revenge-Chapter 69: A Little Maintenence Oversight

~LAYLA~

"Did she change her mind about the partnership?" I asked, dreading the answer that might follow, as I tried to figure out the reason for the last-minute change.

"No, Layla. She was involved in an accident."

"Uhn?" The sound that escaped my slightly parted lips was half-relief, half-fear. "A-accident? What kind of accident?" I asked, feeling a cold wave wash over me.

Axel’s expression was grim. "Apparently, the elevator on her floor in the hotel she was staying at was under maintenance, so she had to take the stairs and ended up falling. Twisted ankle, possible concussion. She’s in the hospital under observation."

"Is it serious?"

"Not life-threatening, but she won’t be moving around anytime soon." He paused, studying my face. "You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was too convenient, too perfectly timed. "Don’t you think it’s strange? She was supposed to finalise one of your biggest deals, and suddenly she has a ’minor’ accident?" I made a quote sign with my hands.

"What are you suggesting?"

"I’m suggesting that my father doesn’t like obstacles to his plans."

Axel leaned back in his chair, his jaw tightening. "You think Charles orchestrated or had a hand in this?"

"I think Charles is capable of anything." I stood up, pacing to the window. "He’s done it before, hasn’t he? Made problems disappear?"

"We don’t have solid proof."

"We never have solid proof with him. That’s how he’s stayed untouchable for so long."

Axel was quiet for a moment, then picked up his phone. "I’m calling the hospital to get more details."

"Good idea. And Axel?"

"Yeah?"

"We should visit her. If she’s conscious, she might have something to tell us about what happened."

He nodded, already dialling. "Mrs. Wellington’s room, please.Yes, I’ll hold."

I watched him as he waited, noting the tension in his shoulders, the way his free hand drummed against his desk. There was something between us now that hadn’t been there before... a partnership built on shared truth rather than a convenient arrangement.

"She’s awake and can have visitors," he said after hanging up. "Want to go now?"

"Let’s go."

The drive to the hospital was quiet, and we were both lost in our own thoughts. I found myself stealing glances at Axel, noticing how his fingers gripped the steering wheel just a little too tightly.

"You okay?" I asked softly.

He hesitated. "Just tired of Charles’s games. Tired of him hurting innocent people to get what he wants."

His honesty caught me off guard. I reached over and squeezed his arm gently. "We’ll figure this out. Together."

His lips twitched in what might have been a smile. "Together," he agreed.

At the hospital, Mrs. Wellington’s assistant, a nervous-looking woman in her fifties, met us in the lobby.

"Mr. and, Mrs. O’Brien," she said, wringing her hands. "Thank you for coming. Mrs. Wellington has been asking about the Portland project."

"How is she?" Axel asked.

"Stable, but still shaken."

"What exactly happened?"

"Same thing I said on the phone, sir. The elevator was out of service, so we had to use the stairs, but it seemed the stairs were slippery."

"Slippery?" I exchanged glances with Axel. "What do you mean?"

"There was some kind of spill in the staircase that wasn’t cleaned up, and Mrs Wellington, in a hurry, slipped."

My suspicions deepened. Charles had the resources and connections to arrange something like that—a simple maintenance ’oversight’ that could cause serious harm without leaving obvious evidence.

"Has the hotel management said anything about this spill?" Axel asked in a carefully neutral tone.

"They claim no knowledge of it. Said the cleaning crew had been through that morning and reported no issues."

"Interesting," I murmured.

We spent twenty minutes with Mrs. Wellington, who was alert despite the bandage around her head. She confirmed the assistant’s story: the stairs had been unusually slick, almost like they’d been recently mopped but not properly dried.

On the drive home, neither of us spoke until we were almost back at the house.

"You were good in there," I said, breaking the silence.

Axel raised an eyebrow, a hint of his usual smirk appearing. "So were you, detective."

The playful edge in his voice made warmth spread through my chest, though I rolled my eyes to cover it. "I’m serious. You asked all the right questions without making her suspicious."

"Years of practice dealing with business associates. You learn to read between the lines."

Back home, we ended up in the kitchen, both of us needing coffee after the day we’d had. I watched Axel move around the space with familiar ease, noting how domestic it felt.

"Here," he said, handing me a steaming mug.

"Thanks."

We sat at the small kitchen table, our fingers brushing briefly as we both reached for the sugar. Neither of us pulled away immediately.

"You think Charles did this, don’t you?" I asked, cutting through the comfortable silence.

"I don’t think. I know. He’s always played dirty when it comes to business deals."

"Then why not go after him now? We have the documents, we have evidence."

"Timing, Layla. We need to be absolutely sure it sticks when we move against him. You know he’s slippery, and we don’t need a soothsayer to tell us he’s got the police and people in high places on his payroll. If we miss our shot, he’ll disappear or find a way to turn it back on us."

"So what do we do in the meantime?"

"We play a game of chess. We play our pieces right until we have him cornered and out of moves."

I nodded, understanding the logic even if part of me wanted immediate action."Then we say..."

"Checkmate," the two of us chorused.

—

AUTHOR’S POV

Meanwhile, across the city, Charles Watson sat in his mahogany-panelled office, a satisfied smirk playing across his lips as he read the text message on his phone: "Job completed as requested. No complications."

He deleted the message and leaned back in his leather chair, already mentally calculating his next moves.

The Wellington obstacle had been handled efficiently, but there were still loose ends to tie up.

His expression darkened as he thought about Layla and her increasing independence, her growing closeness to that O’Brien boy.

Their union was something he hadn’t seen coming, and it looked like it would cause him more trouble at this rate.

"Time to remind you two who’s really in control," he murmured to himself, reaching for his phone to make another call.