'I Do' For Revenge-Chapter 224: Build Our case
~LAYLA~
"I never thought I would be alive to witness my own funeral," Duke Silas said in a raspy voice with dark, dry humour.
He was sitting in a high-backed leather armchair in the living room of one of Axel’s penthouses. We had flown him out on a private medical jet under the cover of darkness, without the knowledge of anyone.
On the massive flat-screen TV on the wall, the news coverage was replaying Isabelle’s dramatic exit from the crypt.
"She played the part well," the Duke muttered, taking a sip of the herbal tea Arthur Pennyworth had just placed on the side table. "I almost believed she liked me."
"She likes your title, Your Grace," Pennyworth said stiffly, standing with his hands clasped behind his back.
He looked better. The bruising on his face had faded to a dull yellow, and though he was technically unemployed—Isabelle had fired him—he wore his suit with the same dignity he had at the Manor.
"She likes my money," the Duke corrected. He looked away from the screen, his blue eyes finding mine. "Thank you, Layla. For saving me, and for saving Arthur."
I sat on the sofa opposite him, Axel resting his hand on the back of my neck.
"We almost didn’t make it," I admitted softly. "If Axel hadn’t suspected the pills..."
"If I hadn’t been a stubborn old fool and trusted my own daughter, we wouldn’t be here," the Duke said bitterly. He looked at his hand, which was trembling slightly. "To think she would have watched me choke on my own blood just to secure a signature."
"She was desperate," Axel said calmly. "Desperate people make mistakes. And that’s exactly what we counted on."
The Duke looked at Axel with newfound respect. "I still don’t know how you managed it. The extraction."
Axel walked over to the window, looking out at the city’s skyline.
"It was Tye," Axel explained. "Once we got the toxicology report confirming the poison in the pills, we knew Isabelle would try to finish the job at the hospital. We couldn’t just guard you; we had to remove you from the board entirely."
"With Axel’s help, Tye accessed the hospital’s administration system," I continued the story. "He made a transfer order for a ’John Doe’ from the mortuary, an elderly man with no next of kin who had died that morning. He was the same build and age range as you, and Tye even created a fake face mask."
"When the cardiac arrest alarm was triggered..." Axel continued, "that was Tye crashing the monitoring system remotely to create panic."
"In the chaos," I said, "our team intercepted the ambulance transfer. We switched you out, and placed you on a private medevac jet crossing the Atlantic."
"A John Doe," the Duke mused, a bitter smile crossing his lips. "Buried in the Huntington crypt."
"He has a better resting place than he would have had," Pennyworth noted. "And Lady Isabelle paid for a very expensive casket. The irony is quite satisfying."
The Duke let out a bark of laughter that turned into a cough. Pennyworth was instantly at his side with a napkin.
"Easy, Your Grace," Pennyworth said gently. "The doctors said no excitement for at least two weeks."
"Bugger the doctors," the Duke wheezed, but he took the napkin. "I’ve been dead for three days. I think I’ve earned the right to laugh at my own funeral."
He recovered his breath and looked at me seriously. "So. I am dead, living in a glass tower. Isabelle is the executor. She has the keys to the kingdom."
"For now," I said. "We needed her to feel safe. We needed her to stop attacking us so we could get you healthy and build our case."
"I am healthy enough," the Duke argued, though his pale skin and trembling hands suggested otherwise. "I want to go back. I want to walk into that Manor and see the look on her face when the ghost returns."
"Not yet," Axel said firmly, turning from the window. "We let her get comfortable. We let her make moves. We let her incriminate herself fully. Right now, we have attempted murder, which is hard to prove without you alive to testify. But when she starts spending money she doesn’t have, selling assets she shouldn’t, forging documents, making illegal transfers, that’s when we strike."
The Duke studied Axel for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "You have a ruthless streak, Mr. O’Brien. I like it. You remind me of myself forty years ago."
"I learned from the best," Axel said, glancing at me with a small smile.
I stood up, smoothing my dress. "Rest, Grandfather. The travel must have been exhausting. Arthur has direct lines to us. If you need anything, and I mean anything, let us know."
"Go," the Duke waved a hand weakly. "Run your empire, Duchess. Leave the dead man to his rest and his tea."
I kissed his forehead gently. "We’ll visit tomorrow. Try not to die again."
"I’ll do my best," he said with a wry smile.
—
Walking back into the Eclipse Beauty headquarters felt like waking up from a fever dream.
The glass walls, the bustling staff, the smell of coffee and expensive perfume, yes, it was sane and normal.
"Welcome back, Mrs. O’Brien!"
Helena rushed forward, holding a tablet in one hand and a green juice in the other to hug me. She looked impeccable as always, her sharp bob bouncing as she moved.
"Helena," I exhaled, taking the juice gratefully. "Please tell me the building is still standing."
"Barely," Helena teased, falling into step beside me as we walked toward my office. "Production numbers are up twelve per cent, which is good. The Q4 marketing campaign needs your final approval, which is urgent. The design team is losing their minds over the new packaging prototypes, which is normal. Oh, and everyone is gossiping about the funeral. You looked tragic and mysterious, by the way. The veil was a masterpiece."
"It was necessary," I said grimly.
"Also," Helena continued, lowering her voice, "the board wants a meeting. They’re being very polite about it, but I think they want reassurance that you’re not going to abandon Eclipse to play duchess in England."
"Tell them I’ll meet with them on Friday," I said. "And that Eclipse is my priority. Always has been."
"Will do," Helena said.
As soon as I entered my office, I collapsed into my chair, spinning it around to look at the skyline.
"It’s over," I sighed. "For a few weeks, at least. We can breathe."
Axel didn’t sit. He walked over to the window, scanning the adjacent rooftops out of habit. He had been on high alert since we landed.
"Boss lady," Helena said, hesitating by the door. "There is one thing. A package arrived for you this morning. It was marked ’Personal and Confidential’."
She pointed to a black box sitting on the corner of my desk. It was tied with a fancy velvet ribbon that looked elegant and expensive.
"Who is it from?" I asked, sitting up straighter.
"There’s no card on the outside," Helena said. "But I had security scan it. It’s clean. Nothing electronic or chemical."
"Thanks, Helena. Give us a minute."
"Of course," Helena said, sensing the tension. She closed the door softly behind her.
I looked at the box with a growing sense of worry in my stomach. After everything we had experienced, receiving an anonymous package felt like a bad omen.
"Axel?" I asked quietly.
