I was ready to leave and move on to the next phase of my plan, when I spotted Daniel approaching us from across the parking lot.
"Layla," he called out with that familiar tone of false concern. "Can I have a word with you?"
"What is it, Daniel?" I asked, not bothering to hide my irritation.
He glanced nervously at Axel, then back at me. "I wanted to check on you. See how you’re holding up after all of this." He gestured vaguely toward the cemetery with an uncertain hand.
"I’m fine," I replied curtly.
"I was thinking maybe we could meet up later. Talk privately. You know, away from all the family drama," he continued, his voice dropping to what he probably thought was a more intimate tone.
I looked at him with disgust. "Go back to your pregnant wife, Daniel."
"Layla, I meant what I said the other day. About us," he pressed, stepping closer despite my obvious discomfort.
"And I meant what I said just now. Go back to Cassandra," I repeated firmly, taking a step backwards.
He looked like he wanted to argue, but Axel stepped closer to me, and Daniel seemed to think better of it.
"Just call me if you need anything," Daniel said finally.
"I won’t," I stated with finality.
As we got in the car, Axel glanced at me with concern on his face. "What was that about?"
"Nothing important," I said dismissively.
"Didn’t look like nothing," he observed, starting the engine with more force than necessary.
I sighed deeply as Axel pulled out of the parking lot. "There’s nothing going on between Daniel and me, if that’s what you’re wondering. I’m just using him."
"Using him how?" he asked, his knuckles tightening on the steering wheel.
"For information about my family," I explained matter-of-factly.
Axel was quiet for a moment before responding. "Is that what your meeting the other day was about?"
"Yes. Daniel told me he doesn’t really care about Cassandra. He’s only staying with her until she gives birth, then he plans to leave her for me," I said, watching his reaction carefully.
I could see Axel’s jaw tighten visibly. "And you’re encouraging this?"
"I’m letting him think what he wants to think," I replied with a shrug.
"Layla, that sounds like a dangerous game."
"Dangerous how?"
"What if it’s a trap? What if your family is using him to get information about you?" he asked, glancing at me briefly before focusing back on the road.
"Then I’ll be ready for them," I said with more confidence than I felt.
"Will you? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re playing with fire."
I turned to look at him directly, scoffing. "You should be grateful I’m even telling you this instead of keeping it from you. The same way you keep things from me."
That shut him up immediately. The accusation hung in the air between us as we drove the rest of the way home in uncomfortable silence.
When we got inside, Axel loosened his tie with jerky movements and looked at me with tired eyes. "Do you need anything?"
"No, I’m good," I said softly, suddenly feeling drained.
"Are you sure? It’s been a long day," he asked.
"I’m sure," I confirmed with a weak smile.
"Okay. And Layla?" he said, hesitating.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you for letting me come with you today," he said with genuine warmth.
"Thank you for being there. It meant a lot," I replied, feeling a familiar flutter in my chest.
"You’re welcome," he said simply.
For a moment, we just stood there in the foyer, looking at each other. There was something electric in the air between us, a kind of tension I couldn’t quite identify. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it also made me kind of nervous.
"There’s something I want to ask," Axel said finally, breaking the spell.
"What?" I asked, my voice a whisper.
"Not that I’m complaining, but I noticed how you acted around Erica today. Is something up?" he asked carefully, studying my face.
I considered how to answer, weighing my words. "What do you mean?"
"You were distant with her. Cold, even. That’s not like you," he observed with that perceptiveness that always caught me off guard.
"It’s nothing," I said automatically.
"Is it nothing, or do you just not want to talk about it?" he pressed gently.
I smiled despite myself, feeling exposed under his scrutiny. "You’re getting to know me pretty well."
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"Jury’s still out. But if it’s something you need to know about, I’ll tell you," I promised.
Axel nodded slowly, seeming to accept this. "Fair enough. I’ll be in my study if you need anything."
"Okay," I said, watching as he headed toward his office while I climbed the stairs to my room.
I couldn’t help but note to myself how observant Axel was. He noticed things about me that even I sometimes missed, reading my moods and reactions with an accuracy that was both comforting and unsettling.
I had just changed out of my funeral dress and into comfortable clothes when my phone buzzed with a text from Erica.
Erica: Are you back home? Are you okay?
I texted back quickly: Just got home, not quite long ago.
Her response came almost immediately, as if she’d been sitting there waiting for my reply.
Erica: That’s a relief. Did I offend you today or something?
I looked at the message and smiled to myself. Perfect. Instead of texting back, I scrolled through my call logs and called an unsaved number that I’d memorised a few weeks ago.
The phone rang five times before someone answered with a gruff voice.
"Ma’am?"
"What’s the update?" I asked without preamble.
"Everything’s been quiet here, ma’am. The subject has been staying in the safe house as instructed," the guard reported professionally.
"Has she been behaving normally?" I pressed.
"Well, there’s been some unusual activity. She’s been making some suspicious phone calls," he said, his tone becoming more alert.
"Suspicious how?" I asked, settling into my chair.
"Multiple calls at odd hours, ma’am. She always moves to a different room when she takes them, like she doesn’t want us to hear the conversations," he explained.
"Do you know who she’s been calling?" I asked, my pulse quickening.
"No, ma’am," he admitted.
"What about the content of these calls?"
"Can’t make out the specifics from my stationed position."
"How many calls are we talking about?" I asked, making mental notes.
"At least one to two per day, ma’am. Always at the same times, early morning around six, and late evening around eleven," he reported.
"Any patterns in the duration?"
"The morning calls are usually brief, maybe five minutes. The evening ones can go on for thirty minutes or more," he said after a moment’s consideration.
"And she doesn’t know you’re monitoring this?" I confirmed.
"No, ma’am. I’ve been careful to maintain a proper distance while still ensuring her safety," he assured me.
I was silent for a moment, processing this information carefully.
"Ma’am? Are you still there?" the guard asked when the silence stretched too long.
"Yes, I’m here. I’m going to need you to do something for me."
"What is it, ma’am?"