'I Do' For Revenge-Chapter 245: It’s Finished

Charles squinted at the photo in the dirt. It was a picture of a couple laughing, standing in front of a blue sedan near a mountain overlook.

"I don’t know them," Charles sneered. "Some nobodies?"

"Those ’nobodies’," I said, my voice trembling with suppressed rage, "were Robert and Sarah Hammond."

Charles looked up in confusion, as if trying to make sense of what I had said. "Hammond? The same Hammond? That was... that was decades ago."

"Twenty years ago," I said. "Aspen Ridge Pass. The winding road coming down from the summit."

Charles’s face went pale. He remembered.

"It was a tragedy," Charles whispered, taking a step back. "The papers said... mechanical failure. A terrible accident."

"It wasn’t mechanical failure, and you know it!" I roared. "Brakes don’t just vanish, Charles! The police report said the brakes failed. But I found the truth."

I took a step closer, watching him shrink against the wall.

"I found the mechanic you paid off five years later, Charles. He kept the work order as insurance. The brake lines weren’t worn down. They were cut clean."

Charles hit the wall behind him. There was nowhere left to go.

"You knew my father was going to expose you for all the things you’ve done," I continued, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "So you invited them like you were ready to come clean, and made sure his car went over that cliff. They screamed all the way down, Charles. My mother... they said she held onto my father’s hand until the impact."

"I... I didn’t mean..." Charles stammered, sweat pouring down his face.

"I was ten years old," I said. "I waited for them to come home for dinner. They never came. You didn’t just kill two people that day. You killed a childhood. You created me."

"You..." Charles’s eyes widened in horror. "You’re their son?"

"My name is Axel Hammond," I said. "I took my middle name, O’Brien, to hide from you. I built my empire, I swallowed your competitors, and I spent twenty years hunting for the ghost who ordered the hit on my parents."

Charles looked at me, and for the first time, he saw his death. He saw that his money, his connections, and his lies were useless.

"Axel, please," he whimpered, sliding down the wall. "I’m an old man. It was a long time ago. I can change. I can make it right."

"You can’t bring them back," I said.

"I can give you power! I can give you the world!"

"I already have the world," I said. "Her name is Layla."

I drew the gun. It felt heavy in my hand, heavy with twenty-seven years of hate. "Get on your knees," I commanded.

Charles dropped to his knees, sobbing. It was a pathetic display. "Please... don’t do this. You’re a businessman. You’re not a killer."

"Prison is too merciful for you, Charles," I said, aiming at his chest. "But you’re right. I’m not a murderer like you. I’ll let the system..."

I lowered the gun slightly, just enough to give him hope.

It was a test. And he failed it.

Seeing the barrel drop, Charles’s eyes snapped from fear to fury. He lunged to his right, grabbing a rusted length of rebar jutting out of the concrete foundation.

"You weak fool!" Charles screamed, swinging the metal bar at my head with surprising speed.

I didn’t blink. I didn’t flinch. I had expected it.

I sidestepped the blow, the wind of the metal bar rushing past my ear. My hand shot out, not to block, but to aim.

BANG.

The gunshot echoed across the waterfront like a cannon blast.

Charles screamed, dropping the rebar and clutching his right thigh. He collapsed into the dirt, writhing in agony. Blood pooled instantly on the grey gravel.

"My leg! You shot my leg!" he shrieked.

I stood over him, watching him crawl like a worm. The sirens were distant, but closing in. Tye and Layla were running toward us from the perimeter fence.

"That was for the attempt on Layla’s life," I said coldly.

Charles looked up at me with gritted teeth, sweat pouring down his face. "Go to hell, O’Brien! You think this is over? I’ll buy the jury! I’ll buy the judges! I’ll be out in five years! And when I get out, I will destroy everything you love!"

He reached into his jacket again, pulling out a small silver pistol he had concealed. He raised it, his hand shaking, aiming for my face.

"Die!" he screamed.

BANG.

Another shot. But not from his gun.

My bullet hit him dead centre in the chest before his finger could tighten on the trigger.

Charles gasped, his eyes going wide. The silver pistol fell from his hand. He slumped back against the concrete wall, his mouth opening and closing, but no sound came out. The light in his eyes flickered and went out.

Silence descended on the construction site.

"And that’s for my parents," I said to the silence. "For Layla, for every child you hurt, for every life you ruined."

I didn’t re-holster the weapon. I just stood there, staring at the corpse of the man who had haunted my nightmares for two decades. It didn’t feel like triumph; it felt like emptiness. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

"Axel!"

I turned to see Layla running across the debris, her heels sinking into the dirt, but she didn’t care. She stared at Charles, the man she had called father. She saw the blood. She saw the gun in my hand.

She slowed down, walking toward me cautiously. She saw the empty expression on my face... the look of a man who has finally completed a lifetime mission and has nothing left.

She didn’t scream. She didn’t run away from me.

She came right up to me, stepping over the rebar, and took my face in her warm hands. Her thumbs brushed away the sweat on my temples.

"Is it finished?" she asked softly.

I looked down at Charles’s lifeless body one last time. The monster was just a pile of expensive clothes and bones now.

"It’s finished," I rasped.

Layla leaned into me, wrapping her arms around my waist, burying her face in my chest. I could feel her heart beating against mine. It was the only thing grounding me to reality.

"Hammond," she whispered, looking up at me with tears in her eyes. "Your real name is Axel O’Brien Hammond."

"Was," I corrected quietly, dropping the gun to the ground. It landed with a heavy thud. "That boy died the day Charles killed his father. But maybe he can finally rest now."

Layla tightened her hug, shielding me from the world as the first police cruisers screeched to a halt at the gate. "Then let him rest," she said. "We’ll bury the past right here."