~LAYLA~
The drive back to Axel's mansion was completely silent.
It wasn't the awkward kind of silence where two people don't know what to say but this one was heavy, and suffocating. The kind that made you hyper-aware of everything you were feeling but couldn't say out loud.
I stared out the tinted window, my fingers absentmindedly rubbing at the spot on my arm where my father had grabbed me.
It didn't hurt much, but the memory of his cold touch stayed.
Once upon a time, those hands used to rest on my shoulders in praise. "That's my girl," he'd say, beaming with pride after every achievement I dragged myself through to earn his approval.
I was at the top of my class, graduated early, and learned the ins and outs of the corporate world before I was even legal to drink. All for what?
Recognition?
Validation?
It took me years to realise I'd never been a daughter to him. I was just an investment, a tool to him. Something he polished and paraded so he could gloat about how perfectly he'd raised me.
Cassandra barely finished high school. She dropped out of college after one semester and still got the company's cosmetics brand to manage. She didn't even have to ask and he gave it to her.
But me, I had to work and earn for every spot. How was that even fair?
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Axel's gaze on me. I didn't turn, but I felt him watching.
When the car rolled to a slow stop outside the house, he cleared his throat. "We're here."
I nodded, still not saying much.
We walked side by side through the big front doors, feeling the cool marble floors under my heels as we headed up the stairs.
The silence followed us and at the landing, Axel paused.
"You held yourself well today," he said without looking at me. "But this is only the beginning."
I gave a slight nod, my voice barely above a murmur. "I know."
Then I turned and walked toward my room, closing the door behind me with a soft click.
I collapsed onto the bed, not bothering to take off the dress yet. I stared up at the ceiling, replaying every scene like a broken reel.
The cameras, the questions, Cassandra's face, Daniel's clenched jaw, my father's fury, and Axel, who always seems so composed, and three steps ahead.
My phone buzzed beside me, breaking the loop.
Mom.
Of course, that was expected.
Honestly, I didn't want to pick up, but a part of me was curious as to what she had to say.
I answered. "Hello?"
Her voice cracked immediately. "Layla, what do you think you're doing?"
I sighed. "What do you mean by that?."
"You're making a mistake with Axel O'Brien."
And there it was.
"I know you're hurt," she continued quickly, as if trying to talk me off a ledge. "But this isn't the way. You need to come home so we can talk. Your father's furious…"
"Of course he is," I cut in. "His puppet grew a spine."
She went quiet.
"You know, I thought maybe you'd understand, but here you are once again, dictating what I should do. You should have thought of this situation when you were busy picking sides."
"I did not, Layla," she whispered. "I just wanted peace."
"And you got it. So now, live with it. Don't bother me again. Have a good day."
"Layla —"
And I hung up.
I let out a deep breath and stared at my hand that wouldn't stop shaking. I just spoke to my mother the way I wanted, and it honestly felt liberating.
The phone buzzed a few times, and when I didn't answer, it finally stopped.
I simply closed my eyes and took a long deserved rest.
The sun dipped behind the skyline, casting soft shadows across the room. When dinner time rolled around, I assumed I'd be eating alone like this morning.
But when I walked into the dining room, Axel was already there, sitting at the end of the long table; his tie was loosened, and he held a wine glass in his hand.
He didn't say anything as I took my seat.
And honestly, I didn't need him because sometimes silence was comforting.
Dinner was quiet, except for the gentle clink of cutlery, but halfway through, Axel finally spoke. "You're coming with me to the company tomorrow."
I raised a brow. "Oh?"
"I've had your profile reviewed and your credentials are impressive. You've already been assigned an office and a position on the board."
I nearly choked. "You what?! Just like that?"
He looked up. "Why not? You're overqualified, and I trust you."
"You trust me?" I repeated, skeptical.
"I do my homework, Layla. You're more capable than most of the men on my board. And I need someone I can rely on."
That was surprisingly romantic?
Oh, shoo. Get out of my head you evil thoughts. Me and Axel were not like that. Our marriage was strictly business, nothing else.
I studied Axel for a moment, trying to gauge the angle. "You're not afraid I'll mess up and drag your billion-dollar empire down with me?"
He gave a dry smirk. "You're not going to mess up."
Simple as that. God, this confidence of this man was sexy.
A-hem. Get behind me, Satan.
I nodded slowly. "Alright. What's the next game plan?"
"For now? Just play your role, and be the perfect wife in public."
I took a sip of wine. "And in private?"
"You get to be whoever the hell you want."
Something about the freedom in his tone settled inside me like a weight I hadn't realised I'd been carrying.
"I'll assign you an assistant," Axel added. "She'll brief you on the company, meetings, everything."
"Sounds intense."
"Welcome to my world."
When I finished eating, I excused myself and returned to my room. I was halfway through changing into my nightwear when my phone rang again.
Dad.
I stared at the screen, feeling a sense of dread creeping up my back.
I almost didn't answer, but then I couldn't avoid him forever. Moreover, I had to prove to him I wasn't the same Layla he could intimidate.
So I picked.
"Layla." His voice was sharp and controlled.
But I said nothing.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Do these people rehearse their questions or what?
"Living," I replied flatly.
"You're bringing shame to this family," he snapped. "This marriage? That man? Do you know what people are saying about us?"
"You mean about your beloved daughter, Cassandra?"
"Don't get smart with me."
"You always told me to be smart," I bit back.
"This time, I listened too well."
"Layla!" He snapped.
I didn't respond.
There was a beat of silence. Then, he said with a tone that suggested he was barely holding it together.
"Come home. Tomorrow. Before I lose my patience."
I rolled my eyes.
Had it been the old me, she would have
apologised, packed her bags and ran back like a trained lapdog desperate for praise.
But I wasn't that girl anymore.
"As much as I'd love to visit," I told him, "my husband and I are enjoying our honeymoon bliss, so, no interference."
I added, "If you want my attention from now on, you can book an appointment with my assistant and come to my office with a good reason. Do have a nice day."
Then I hung up.