~LAYLA~
"Security!" Isabelle shouted again in a shrill voice.
Two uniford guards rushed in but then paused, glancing between the crying aristocrat, who looked perfectly put together, and the man in the tuxedo, who seed strong enough to take them down easily.
One guard stepped forward, reaching for my arm. "Ma’am, you need to..."
Before he even finished his sentence, Axel moved. One mont he was beside , the next, he was chest-to-chest with the guard, blocking his path.
He didn’t shove him; he just stood there, giving off a stay-away-or-I-break-your-hand vibe.
"Touch her," Axel said in a terrifyingly calm voice, "and you will need a trauma team for yourself."
The guard froze, his hand hovering in mid-air. He looked at Axel’s eyes and saw he ant every word. He slowly lowered his hand.
"This is a hospital," Mr. Sterling, the lawyer, pleaded, looking mortified. "Please. Think of the Duke."
I took a deep breath, forcing the tremors in my hands to stop. I looked at the closed doors of the ICU. My grandfather was in there, fighting for his life, and I was out here, fighting with vultures.
"I’m not going to cause a scene while he’s dying," I said in a cold voice. I turned to Isabelle. "I’m leaving. But know this, Isabelle. If he dies and I find out you delayed care, or stressed him, or did anything to cause this, I will burn your world down. And I won’t need a title to do it."
Isabelle’s lip curled. "Empty threats from a trespasser. Oh, and Layla? Don’t bother returning to the Manor. I’m having the locks changed as we speak. I’ll have your cheap Arican luggage sent to... well, wherever it is you people stay."
"Let’s go," Axel said, placing his hand on the small of my back.
We walked out. I held my head high until the automatic doors slid shut behind us, blocking out the sterile sll of the hospital and Isabelle’s triumphant smirk.
The rain had stopped, leaving behind cold and damp air. We reached the SUV, and as soon as the doors closed, shutting out the world, I slumped back against the leather seat.
The fight drained out of , leaving only exhaustion.
"He’s going to die, isn’t he?" I whispered, staring at the dashboard. "And she wins. She gets the house, the title, and the legacy. Everything he tried to fix tonight, his family’s heritage, it’s gone."
"He’s not going to die," Axel said firmly, starting the engine but not putting it in gear. "He’s a stubborn old bastard. He’ll fight."
He turned on the interior light and reached into his tuxedo pocket. "Pennyworth gave this before we left the Manor," Axel said.
He held up a small, orange prescription bottle.
"His heart dication," I said, frowning, confused by the sudden shift in topic. "Why do you have it? Why did Pennyworth give it to you?"
"Because Pennyworth is loyal to the Duke, and is the only person in that house with a conscience," Axel said grimly.
He twisted the bottle in his hand.
"When the paradics were loading the Duke, Pennyworth grabbed my arm. He was terrified, Layla. He whispered that the Duke had complained to him this afternoon, saying his pills tasted ’tallic’ and ’wrong.’ Like copper."
My stomach turned. "Did Pennyworth check them?"
"He did. He noticed the foil seal on the bottle looked reckless, glued back on. He didn’t trust Isabelle or Julian to handle the ds after the collapse, so he swiped them. He told , ’Protect the evidence, Mr. O’Brien.’"
Axel popped the cap. He brought the bottle to his nose and sniffed.
"Date filled: Yesterday," Axel read from the label. "But there’s a distinct sll under the chemical coating. Faint, but it’s there. Bitter almonds."
My eyes widened. The horror washed over cold and fast. "Cyanide?"
"Not enough to kill him instantly; that would be too obvious," Axel theorised. "But maybe a derivative. Sothing to spike his blood pressure. Something to trigger an arrhythmia in a man with a known heart condition."
"She poisoned him," I breathed. It wasn’t a question anymore. "She knew."
"I think she knew he was signing the papers tomorrow morning," Axel said. "She knew tonight was the deadline. If he signs, she loses everything. If he dies, or goes into a coma, before morning, the old will stands."
He put the bottle back in his pocket.
"But he’s her father. She would go to this length for just an inheritance?"
"You never know how deep the heart of a person can go," Axel replied, shifting the car into gear. "I’m sending this to Tye for a chemical analysis. If there is anything in these pills that shouldn’t be there, we can sue them and put them in prison for attempted murder."
—
We didn’t go to a hotel. Axel drove us to a stylish and modern apartnt building, a safe house that Tye owned in this part of the world.
"We need secure lines," was all he said.
Inside, the apartnt was cold and minimalist but safe. I sat on the edge of the grey sofa, still wearing my erald ballgown, feeling like a relic from a destroyed kingdom.
Axel paced the room, phone to his ear.
"Tye. I need a courier at safe house #278 in twenty minutes. Package is priority alpha... Yes. Toxicology. Full spectrum. And get everything you can on Julian’s financial transactions for the last week. I want to know if he bought anything unusual."
He hung up and looked at . His expression softened instantly.
He walked over and knelt in front of , taking my cold hands in his. "Hey," he whispered. "Look at ."
I met his gaze. "I know I haven’t known him for long, but he is a good man. He doesn’t deserve to die. I don’t care about the Duchess title, Axel. I just want him to wake up. I want him to be okay."
"You are still the Duchess," Axel said fiercely. "He chose you. The world heard him. Paperwork is just bureaucracy. We will prove his intent, and we will prove they stopped him."
"But we’re locked out," I said, my voice cracking. "Isabelle has the Manor. She has the files. She has the lawyers."
"We have the truth," Axel said. "And we have this." He tapped his pocket where the pills were.
My phone buzzed on the coffee table.
I glanced at it. It was an unknown number.
"Don’t answer it," Axel warned. "It could be the press."
The phone stopped, then buzzed again imdiately.
I frowned. "The press doesn’t call twice in ten seconds."
I picked it up. "Hello?"
"Mrs. O’Brien?" The voice was a hushed whisper, trembling with fear.
"Pennyworth?" I sat up straight. "Arthur? Where are you?"
"I... I am in the butler’s pantry, Ma’am. I have locked the door, but I do not know how long I have."
"What’s happening?" Axel moved closer, listening in.
"They are tearing the house apart," Pennyworth whispered. "Lady Isabelle and Master Julian. They are in the library. They are looking for the Duke’s private journals."
"The journals?" I asked.
"The Duke wrote in them every day," Pennyworth explained urgently. "He wrote about his etings with you. He wrote about his decision to change the will. He wrote about his suspicions of them. If they find those books, Ma’am, they will burn them. And with them, the proof of his sanity."
I looked at Axel. The proof we needed.
"Where are they?" I asked. "The journals."
"Hidden," Pennyworth said. "But Julian is tearing the shelves down. You must co. You must..."
There was a loud BANG on the other end of the line, like the sound of wood splintering.
"Open this door, you old fool!" Julian’s voice scread through the phone.
"Pennyworth!" I shouted.
"Run, Ma’am!" Pennyworth cried.
Then the line went dead.
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