'I Do' For Revenge Chapter 12: His Problem

~LAYLA~

I shut my bedroom door and leaned back against it, trying to calm my breath. My pulse was still sprinting from that confrontation in Axel’s study.

But the adrenaline didn’t drown out the images burned into my brain: the papers, the contracts, the unmistakable na: Watson Holdings.

My father’s company.

And Axel’s na, his or soone in his family’s, woven through deal after deal, as if our bloodlines had been tangled in business long before this farce of a marriage.

I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes.

What was in that letter? Axel had ripped it away so fast it had to matter.

It wasn’t enough that my father, the man I had once idolised, the one I had broken myself to please, had only ever seen as an investnt, a bargaining chip.

And now, Axel, was turning out to be no different. If I wasn’t careful, he’d use just like my father had.

I sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the sheets in my fists.

No.

I wasn’t going to let that happen.

If Axel thought I’d crumble, he was wrong. I would use this arrangent, his empire, his contacts, and his power, until I could stand on my own. Until I didn’t need him, or my father, or anyone else.

He’d mocked about not having a life outside work, outside my father’s grip. Fine. I’d build one and prove him wrong.

That night, I ignored the knock on my door when the maid announced dinner. Axel’s words still rang in my head: "We only exist together in public."

Perfect. Then he could dine alone.

—

The following week passed in a routine of etings, and car rides back to the mansion. Axel and I crossed paths, of course, we had to, but only in public, where the caras or the board could see.

His hands stayed on my waist, his expression remained unreadable, and my smile was always perfect.

But privately, there was nothing. He didn’t seek out, and I didn’t go near him.

Fine. That was fine.

Instead, I threw myself into my work, focusing on reports, schedules, and etings. Helena kept adding projects to my desk, and before I knew it, day turned into night.

And at night, I thought of escape plans, business ideas, steps I could take to make sure when this "partnership" was over, I’d walk away stronger than I’d walked in.

By Friday, I’d convinced myself I was untouchable.

Until Axel reminded otherwise.

It was late afternoon when Helena stepped into my office, clutching a slim folder. "Mr. O’Brien asked to give this to you," she said, setting it on my desk.

I raised a brow. "What is it?"

"An urgent analysis. He said he wants your personal assessnt before tomorrow."

I opened it up to see numbers, forecasts, and so graphs. It wasn’t anything I couldn’t understand, but it wasn’t really my area of expertise.

I shut it again and slid it back across the desk. "Here, you do it."

Helena blinked. "?"

"Yes. You’re my assistant, aren’t you? Summarize it for ."

She nodded quickly and scurried off, and I leaned back in my chair, satisfied.

But an hour later, she returned, flustered. "Mrs. O’Brien..." she hesitated. "He took it."

"Took it?" I frowned.

"I gave him my report. He asked if you’d done it. When I said I did it on your instruction, he..." She swallowed. "He tossed it in the bin."

The blood in my veins ran hot.

I shot out of my chair. "He what?"

Helena winced. "I’m sorry. He said it was for you, not ."

That was it. That was the last straw.

I stord down the hall, my heels clicking against the marble, until I reached Axel’s office. I didn’t knock and just slamd the door open. "What the hell is your problem?"

Axel didn’t bother to look up from his desk. He leaned back in his chair with his sleeves rolled up and his fingers pressed together. He seed annoyingly calm.

"My problem?" His gaze flicked up lazily.

"You tell ."

"You gave a file and I delegated. That’s what assistants are for. Don’t you have one? Or do you just like making my life miserable?"

"Close the door," he said evenly.

"No," I snapped. "Not until you tell why you’re trying so hard to make this impossible."

Finally, he sat forward, eyes locking on mine. "Because if you’re not willing to learn, you’ll never grow."

I let out a bitter laugh. "That’s rich. You could’ve given that to any number of analysts, but no, you drop it on my desk like so test, then punish for not jumping through hoops?"

"Exactly," he said smoothly.

I blinked. "What?"

"I could’ve given it to anyone. But I gave it to you because you needed the experience. If you can’t handle it, maybe you’re not as capable as you think."

The words hit their mark, and he knew it. I tensed up, clenching my fists at my sides. "You think you’re so kind of ntor now?"

"No." His tone sharpened. "I think you’re soone who hides behind her title. If you want respect in that boardroom, you earn it. You don’t hand off the dirty work; you understand it, own it, then delegate from a position of strength."

I faltered.

He nodded toward the folder still sitting in his bin. "Take a look."

Reluctantly, I stepped forward, picking it and flipping it open.

At first glance, it was just numbers. But as I looked closer, I understood it was more complex than that. Usually, I work strategy and managent, but this was raw data and projections.

It wasn’t impossible; it just felt unfamiliar.

He watched silently as the realization sank in.

"See?" he said finally. "It’s not about whether you can. It’s about whether you’re willing. People shouldn’t work for you because you can’t do the job; they should work for you because you’ve already mastered it and risen above it."

I swallowed hard, my throat feeling tight. I suddenly felt really small, like a little girl who was being told off for not doing her howork.

I shut the folder and turned, ready to leave before he saw the heat burning in my face.

"Layla." His voice stopped at the door.

"There’s a business gala tomorrow night," he said. "I’ve already arranged a team to prep you for it."

I raised a brow. "You really think I don’t know how to smile and nod for the caras?"

"Don’t ss it up," he replied simply.

The arrogance in his tone made want to throw the folder at his head.

Instead, I plastered on a smile so fake it hurt. "Don’t worry. I’ll play the role of the perfect wife."

Inside, I was already making my plans. I would play the role well, but I would do it on my terms.