LAYLA’S POV
"Charles Watson," Marco repeated the name, tasting it like spoiled milk.
He looked at me in surprise. "Isn’t that your father? Owner of Watson Holdings?"
"Point of correction," I said flatly. "Adopted father. And that relationship ended months ago."
Marco chuckled, a dark sound that held no real humour. He turned back to Henry, his surprised expression changing to a mix of disgust and dark amusement. "How did you get involved with someone like Charles Watson?"
"It was his idea!" Henry exclaimed, clearly losing his cool. He was sweating heavily now, the expensive fabric of his suit darkening under his arms and at the collar. "He set up the shell companies! He said we could hide it in the books! He has the access codes to the offshore accounts for the twenty million!"
I watched Henry fall apart like a cheap sweater. The arrogant shark who had lectured me about "men’s work" was now just a desperate coward, ready to sell out anyone to save his own skin.
"I see," Marco said, glancing at his silent guard. The guard nodded once and began typing rapidly on his phone.
"Yes! Charles doesn’t suspect anything yet!" Henry babbled. "If you hurry, you can catch him at his house! He thinks he’s safe! Just... just let me go, and I’ll help you get the rest. I swear! I’ll give you account numbers, passwords, everything!"
"You’ll give me those things anyway," Marco said calmly.
"Yes! Yes, of course! Whatever you want!" Henry’s voice cracked. "I can still be useful!"
Marco looked at Henry like one might examine a particularly disgusting insect, and then turned his gaze to me. His eyes were calculating and assessing.
"You have been very thorough, Mrs. O’Brien," Marco said in a deceptively light voice. "I underestimated you."
"Most people do," I said, meeting his gaze evenly. "I clean up my own messes, Marco. And I clean up the ones others leave on my doorstep. The debt is clear now. It wasn’t with O’Brien Group or Eclipse Beauty... it never was. You were pointed at the wrong target."
"True," Marco agreed, nodding slowly.
He walked over to Henry, who flinched visibly as if Marco were about to strike him. Instead, Marco placed a heavy hand on Henry’s shoulder, gripping it hard enough that Henry winced.
"Mr. Porter here is going to be my guest for a while," Marco said casually, as if discussing dinner plans.
"What?" Henry gasped, his eyes going wide. "No! No, wait! I told you where Charles is! I gave you everything!"
"You did," Marco said calmly, tightening his grip. "And if my men catch him and recover my twenty million, perhaps your stay will be... comfortable. But until I have every single cent of my ninety million dollars back in my accounts, you belong to me. You are collateral."
"You can’t do this!" Henry’s voice rose to a panicked pitch. He looked at me desperately as he pleaded. "Layla! Tell him! You can’t let him take me! I’m a partner! I’m... I’m family!"
I looked at him... I mean, really looked at him.
I thought about Axel lying in that hospital bed with a fractured spine, tubes and wires keeping him alive. I thought about Helena trembling in her apartment, believing she’d killed her boss and the guilt from having to give out her brother.
I thought about the terror of the explosion, the heat of the flames, and the smell of smoke that still clung to the walls of this room like a ghost.
"You aren’t family, Henry," I said coldly. "And you aren’t a partner. You’re a thief and a coward. You’re a liability."
I looked at Marco. "Take him. Just make sure he doesn’t come back until the money clears."
"And after that?" Marco asked with a cruel smile playing on his lips. "When the debt is paid? What do you want me to do with him then?"
I looked at Henry one last time. He looked small now, pathetic and terrified. All the polish and arrogance stripped away to reveal the hollow man beneath.
"Return him to me," I said. "I have my own accounts to settle with him. Legal ones. I want him prosecuted for embezzlement, fraud, and every other charge I can make stick. I want him to rot in prison, not disappear into whatever hole you’d put him in."
Marco chuckled, genuinely amused. "Understood. A pleasure doing business with you, niña. You are far more ruthless than your husband. I respect that."
He signalled his guard. The man moved with blurring speed, grabbing Henry by the arm and twisting it behind his back in one smooth motion.
Henry screamed, but Marco’s man marched him toward the door with little effort, as if Henry weighed nothing at all.
"Layla! Layla, please!" Henry begged, dragging his heels against the carpet, trying to slow their progress. "Don’t do this! They’ll kill me! You know they’ll kill me!"
"They won’t kill you, Henry," I called out as they dragged him into the hallway. "Not as long as you’re worth seventy million dollars. You’d better hope your bank transfers go through fast. And you better pray Charles gives up that twenty million without a fight."
"Please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!" Henry’s voice became muffled as they pulled him farther away.
The door slammed shut, cutting off his wails mid-scream.
Silence returned to the boardroom; the kind of silence that rings in your ears after a gunshot.
I stood there for a moment, letting it wash over me. My hands were steady, and my breathing was calm. I felt nothing for Henry Porter... no guilt, no satisfaction, nothing but cold pragmatism.
Marco turned back to look at me; he hadn’t left yet. He held my gaze for a few seconds.
"You surprise me," he admitted in an almost respectful tone. "Most women in your position would have crumbled. They would have begged, cried, and offered themselves as payment. But you..." He shook his head slowly. "You have the heart of a wolf, Mrs. O’Brien. You remind me of my own mother. She was fierce like you."
He stepped closer, moving into the light.
"I misjudged you," he continued. "I thought you were just a pretty face hiding behind your husband’s reputation. I thought breaking him would break you. I was wrong."
He extended a hand as a gesture of respect... a peace offering between predators who had found common ground.
"Perhaps we can do legitimate business in the future," Marco said. "When all this ugliness is behind us. You clearly know how to handle difficult situations. That is a valuable trait."
I looked at his hand. I looked at the man who had sent the bomb that nearly killed my husband. The man who had terrorised me with threats and deadlines. The man who had almost destroyed everything Axel and I had built together.
I thought about Axel’s broken body in that hospital bed. I thought about the fear in his eyes when he’d thrown himself over me. I thought about the twenty-four hours of hell I’d lived through, not knowing if he would survive.
I stepped forward, but didn’t take his hand. Instead, I slapped him.