~LAYLA~
The silence that followed my question was quieter than a graveyard.
William Scotfield didn’t shrink away, I’ll give him that. He was an old-school shark, the type who believed women belonged on magazine covers, not in boardrooms. He adjusted his tie and put on a look of condescending pity.
"Layla," he said, using my first name on purpose to undermine my authority. "Nobody is trying to bury Axel. But we have to be realistic. The O’Brien Group isn’t Eclipse Beauty. We aren’t selling lipstick and moisturiser here. We deal in global tech, logistics, and volatile markets. This is a multi-billion dollar conglomerate."
"And?"
"And..." He looked around the room as if seeking allies. "You’ve done a marvelous job with your... subsidiary," he continued with a smirk playing on his lips. "But running a cosmetics brand does not qualify you to steer a shipping empire through a crisis. You don’t know the infrastructure. You don’t know the stakeholders."
"Is that so?" I asked softly, then I began to walk around the table instead of sitting down.
"You’re right, William. I do sell lipstick. And last month, Eclipse Beauty made a higher profit margin than the entire North Atlantic shipping division. Want to know why? I cut the bloat that you, as head of the Audit Committee, allowed to pile up for three years."
Scotfield stiffened. "That’s..."
"I’m not finished," I snapped.
I stopped behind the chair of the CFO, a man named Marcus. "Marcus, the Singapore expansion is currently stalled. Why?"
Marcus blinked, looking terrified. "Uh... the... the port authority permits?"
"Wrong," I said. "It’s stalled because the tariff renegotiations in Port Klang are stuck on a 2% variance in fuel surcharges. Axel and I discussed it over dinner a few days ago. He was planning to concede 1% to close the deal today."
I turned back to Scotfield.
"Do you know the fuel surcharge rates for the Malacca Strait, William? Or were you too busy measuring the curtains for my husband’s office?"
His face turned a deep shade of purple. "This is ridiculous. Just because you know one deal doesn’t mean you’re fit to lead! I propose we invoke the ’Fit and Proper’ clause right now."
"Seconded," a balding man at the end of the table mumbled.
"Motion on the floor," Scotfield said, looking satisfied. "All in favour of suspending Mrs. O’Brien’s voting rights due to emotional compromise?"
Seven hands went up, a majority in the room.
Scotfield smiled. "The motion carries. Layla, I’m going to have to ask you to step out while we..."
"Brennan," I said, not even looking at the lawyer.
"Section 9, Paragraph C," Brennan recited clearly. "In matters of executive appointment, share weight matters more than headcount. Mrs. O’Brien holds proxy for 51% of the voting shares. The remaining 49% is split among this board."
I placed my hands on the table again, leaning into Scotfield’s personal space.
"I vote against the motion," I said firmly. "Motion denied."
The silence returned, but this time, it was terrified.
"Now," I said, straightening up. "Here is the new order of business. First, trading on O’Brien Group stock is to be suspended immediately pending a press statement. Marcus, get the SEC on the line. Second, the Singapore deal closes today. Give them the 1%. Third, complete lockdown of all physical assets. Nothing moves in or out of our warehouses until Tye’s team clears it."
I turned my attention back to Scotfield.
"And fourth. William, since you are so concerned with the ’audit’ side of things, you are going to lead the internal investigation into security failures at the South Warehouse... from a basement office. If I see you on the executive floor before Axel wakes up, you’re fired for cause."
Scotfield’s jaw dropped. "You can’t... the bylaws..."
"Try me," I whispered. "Go ahead and test me right now, William. See what happens."
He looked at me, then at Tye, whose hand was resting casually near his holster. Then, slowly, Scotfield gathered his papers.
"I will... begin the review," he muttered, defeated.
"Good," I said. "Meeting adjourned."
The board members filed out without a word, none of them daring to meet my eyes.
—
Thirty minutes later, I stood on the steps of the O’Brien Tower.
A podium had been quickly set up. A sea of microphones from every major news network was shoved in my face, and the camera flashes were blinding.
I didn’t smile. I stood tall in my midnight-blue suit.
"Mrs. O’Brien! Is Axel dead?"
"Is the company insolvent?"
"Was it the cartel?"
I raised a hand, silencing the crowd.
"My husband, Axel O’Brien, was injured in a cowardly attack on our headquarters today," I said in a steady voice. "He is in critical but stable condition. He is a fighter, and he will return."
I looked directly into the lens of the nearest camera.
"To our shareholders: The O’Brien Group is not a building. It is a global network, and that network is fully operational. I have assumed the role of Interim CEO effective immediately. We are ready to move forward."
I paused, letting the silence hang for a second.
"And to those responsible for this attack," I said, my eyes narrowing slightly. "You thought you could break us with fear. You thought you could decapitate this company. You failed. We are not afraid, and we are coming for you."
I turned and walked away, ignoring the explosion of questions that followed me.
—
The adrenaline crash hit me the moment I stepped back into the sterile, quiet hospital hallway.
My knees trembled, but Tye caught my elbow instantly.
"Easy," he murmured. "You did good, boss. You did real well. I can see why Axel is hooked. That press conference is already trending; stock price stabilised in after-hours trading."
"I don’t care about the stock," I whispered, leaning against the wall outside the ICU.
Helena was still sitting there, exactly where I’d left her. She looked up as soon as I got close. "He hasn’t moved," she said quickly. "Stats are steady. No visitors."
"Good." I nodded. "You did well, Hel, but you can go home now and rest. Thank you so much."
I looked at Tye. "Come with me. I need to tell you something. Something I couldn’t say in front of the Board."
I led him down the hall to a small, empty family waiting room and closed the door.
"Layla?" Tye asked. "What is it?"
I wrapped my arms around myself as the memory of the explosion flashed before my eyes. The smell of sulfur... the heat.
"The explosion," I said. "Before it happened, there was a package on Axel’s desk. A gift box. He said it was from a partner, Xu Zhongyu. But when I opened the card... it was from Marco."
Tye went rigid. "Marco sent a package into the office?"
"The note said, ’Enjoy her while you can. Time is running out.’" I took a ragged breath. "Axel realised who it was from and trashed it. When it hit the bin... I heard a click."
Tye’s face drained of colour, and then, a moment later, a look of pure, unadulterated fury took over. His fists clenched so hard his leather gloves creaked.
"A targeted device," he hissed. "Inside the Executive Suite. That means..."
"That means someone walked a bomb through the lobby, past the scanners, past the elevators, and put it on the CEO’s desk."
"We have a mole," Tye whispered. "We have a rat inside the Tower."
"Find them," I ordered. "I don’t care who it is. Find them."