"Consider it done," Tye said in that professional tone I’d co to rely on. "But first, we lock this floor down completely. If Marco has a way inside the Tower, I have to assu he can get inside this hospital too."
He pulled out his radio and clicked the transmit button. "Unit One, seal the elevators imdiately. No one gets off on the 4th floor without my direct visual confirmation. I don’t care if it’s the Chief of Surgery or the Governor himself. Verify everyone. No exceptions."
I nodded, the exhaustion finally seeping into my bones like lead now that the caras were gone and the adrenaline was crashing.
The mask I’d worn for the board and the press was slipping, and I could feel myself crumbling beneath it.
I looked over at the waiting area.
Helena was still sitting there, staring blankly at the wall even though I’d told her she was free to go. She looked small and fragile. Her clothes were still stained with soot from the blast zone.
"Helena," I said gently, walking over to her.
She jumped, her eyes wide and red-rimd. "Ma’am? Do you need sothing? I can get you coffee, or food, or..."
"I’m fine, Helena," I assured her, sitting down beside her. "But you look like you’re about to collapse. You’ve been here for hours, and you were in the blast zone, too. You need dical attention."
"I just want to help," she whispered. "I need to be doing sothing. If I stop moving, if I stop thinking..."
"You’ve already helped more than enough for today," I said firmly but kindly. "Tye is going to have two of his n drive you ho. You need a shower, real food, and a real bed. I’ll call you if I need anything. I promise."
Helena hesitated, her gaze drifting to the ICU doors, then back to . Finally, she nodded slowly. "Okay. Just... please call even if it’s 3 AM. I don’t care what ti it is."
"I will."
I watched as she gathered herself, looking like a ghost in her soot-stained clothes, and let one of the security guards lead her toward the elevators.
Once she was gone, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out and looked at the screen: Henry Porter.
My jaw tightened hard.
I took a deep breath, forcing the "Interim CEO" mask back into place. He didn’t know that I knew about the evidence Helena had found, about the laptop hidden in his office, about the ninety million dollars split between him and Charles.
I answered. "Henry."
"Layla," his voice ca through, oozing with faux concern that made my skin crawl. "I just saw the press conference. Truly marvelous, if I may say so. You handled the dia brilliantly under the circumstances. Very impressive."
"Thank you, Henry," I said, keeping my voice perfectly even. "We do what we must to protect our own."
"Of course, of course. Family first, always. And that was my primary concern, naturally. The Board was... hasty in their actions. Panic makes men do foolish things." He chuckled lightly, the sound grating against my nerves. "But tell , how is Axel really? The ’stable’ line works beautifully for CNN, but between partners... is he going to make it?"
I tightened my grip on the phone until my knuckles went white. He was fishing. Testing the waters. He wanted to know if the throne was permanently empty.
"He’s strong, Henry," I lied smoothly. "The doctors are very optimistic about his recovery. He actually woke up briefly in the ambulance on the way here."
"He did?" There was a tiny, almost imperceptible pause. A beat of disappointnt carefully disguised as relief. "Well, that is wonderful news. Give him my best when he can receive visitors. And Layla? If you need help with anything... and I an anything at all... don’t hesitate to reach out. It’s a heavy load for one person to carry alone. Don’t be afraid to lean on ."
"I’ll keep that in mind," I said. "Goodnight, Henry."
I hung up and imdiately felt like washing my hands.
"Snake," Tye muttered from beside .
"Worse than a snake," I said quietly. "He’s a patient snake. He’s waiting for to slip, to show weakness, to make a mistake he can exploit."
"You won’t slip," Tye said firmly. "Now go in there. Be a wife for a few minutes, not a CEO. I’ll stand guard right here. Nobody gets past me."
I nodded gratefully and pushed open the heavy door to the ICU.
The sound of the machines was louder inside, filling the small room with their mechanical rhythm. Beep... whoosh... beep.
The room was dim, with only the monitors providing light, casting faint blue shadows on the walls. Axel hadn’t moved since I left him. He was still face down on the special bed meant to protect his injured spine. Thick white bandages covered his broad back, and his head rested carefully in the cushioned cradle.
He looked so big, yet so heartbreakingly helpless.
I pulled a plastic chair close to the bed, careful not to bump the IV stand or any of the wires connecting him to the machines keeping him alive.
I sat down heavily and reached through the tangle of tubes to find his hand; it was warm.
"I did it," I whispered into the silence. "I walked into that boardroom, Axel, and I terrified every single one of them. Scotfield practically wet himself. You would have been so proud."
He didn’t move. The monitor just kept beeping its steady rhythm.
"I told them I was holding the line," I continued, my voice cracking despite my best efforts. "And I will. I’ll hold it as long as I have to. But I’m scared, Axel. I’m so scared. Marco is inside our walls sohow. Henry is circling like a vulture. And you..."
I squeezed his hand, tears finally spilling down my cheeks unchecked.
"You have to wake up. Please. I can be the CEO. I can play the part. I can run the company and fight the battles. But I can’t be Layla without you."
I laid my forehead against his arm, letting the tears soak into the hospital sheet, my body shaking with silent sobs.
I didn’t know how long I sat there. Minutes? Hours? The rhythmic beeping was hypnotic, lulling into a daze of exhaustion and grief.
Suddenly, the door behind burst open.
I shot upright instantly, wiping my face, turning with a glare. "I said no visitors..."
It was Tye.
But he wasn’t looking at . He was staring at a laptop he was balancing in one hand.
"Problem?" I asked, my voice instantly hardening back into CEO mode. "Is it Henry again? Marco? What did he do now?"
"No," Tye said, his voice strange and hollow. "It’s the mole."
I stood up imdiately. "Already? Who is it?"
"I had my tech guy pull the raw data from the security scanners in the Tower lobby," Tye explained, walking toward . "The video footage of the delivery was looped, just like we suspected, professionally done. But the scanner logs... those are hard-coded on a separate server. They can’t be deleted, only bypassed with specific authorisation."
"Who bypassed it?" I demanded.
"The package was flagged as ’Executive Personal - Do Not Scan,’" Tye said. "That override isn’t standard protocol. It requires a biotric authorisation. A fingerprint scan from a senior executive assistant or higher."
"Whose fingerprint?" I asked, dread pooling in my stomach like ice water. "Who authorised the bomb to bypass security, Tye?"
Tye looked at , and I saw sothing in his eyes I’d never seen before. Hesitation. Deep, terrified hesitation. His jaw worked like he was trying to find the words.
"Tye? Tell ."
"It wasn’t a guard," Tye said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
He turned the laptop screen toward .
The security log on the screen flashed in angry red letters: OVERRIDE AUTHORIZATION ID: HELENA PORTER TISTAMP: 08:42 AM
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