~LAYLA~
The police lights painted everything in alternating blue and red. I stood at the periter fence, wrapped in one of those thin ergency blankets they’d given , watching them process the scene.
Charles’s body was being loaded into the coroner’s van. Even from this distance, I could see the white sheet, the dark stains seeping through.
My father... not my father, but the man who raised . The sa man who also tried to destroy .
I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel.
"Ma’am?" A female officer approached, looking kind. "We need to ask you a few more questions."
"She’s already given her statent," Helena said sharply, appearing at my side. She must have driven here the mont she heard. "Twice."
"It’s okay, Helena." I managed a weak smile. "What do you need to know?"
The officer glanced at her notepad. "You witnessed the shooting?"
"Yes. Charles attacked Axel with a tal bar, then pulled a gun. Axel defended himself."
"And you’re certain Mr. Watson fired first?"
"He tried to," I said. "Axel was faster."
The officer nodded, making notes. "And your relationship to the deceased?"
That word, deceased, felt so final.
"He was my adoptive father," I said quietly. "But he wasn’t a good man... he wasn’t a good father."
"I’m sorry for your loss," she said automatically.
Was it a loss? I didn’t know. I watched them zip the body bag and load it into the van.
Part of felt relief, a deep, overwhelming relief that he couldn’t hurt anyone anymore. But another part, that broken little girl who’d once desperately wanted his approval, felt... sothing.
Grief? Regret? I couldn’t na it.
"Layla."
I turned to see Tye approaching. "They’re taking Axel to the precinct for questioning. Standard procedure. His lawyers are already there."
"I’m going with him," I said imdiately.
"They won’t let you in the interrogation room..."
"I don’t care. I’ll wait outside if I have to. I’m going."
—
The precinct was exactly like I rembered: harsh fluorescent lights, the sll of bad coffee, and exhausted-looking officers shuffling papers. I sat on a hard plastic chair outside the interrogation room, Helena on one side, Tye on the other.
"He’ll be fine," Tye said for the third ti. "It’s clearly self-defence. Multiple witnesses, the recording from your wire, the gun Charles pulled... it’s open and shut."
"Then why has it been two hours?" I demanded.
"Because they have to follow procedure," Helena said gently. "Even when the answer is obvious."
A detective finally ca out, an older man with tired eyes. "Mrs. O’Brien?"
I shot to my feet. "Yes?"
"Your husband is free to go. Self-defence, clear as day. We’ll need him available for follow-up questions, but he’s not being charged."
The relief nearly knocked over. "Can I see him?"
"He’s just finishing up with his lawyers. Give him a few minutes."
Those few minutes felt like hours. When Axel finally walked out, he looked... empty. Like soone had scooped out everything inside him and left just the shell.
"Axel." I went to him imdiately, wrapping my arms around him.
He hugged back, but it was... I don’t know, distant.
"Let’s go ho," I whispered.
He nodded silently.
—
AXEL’S POV
The penthouse felt too quiet when we got back... too big, too empty.
Layla was hovering. I could feel her watching with a worried expression. "Are you hungry? I could make sothing, or we could order..."
"I’m fine," I said, the words coming out harsher than I intended. "I just need... I need so ti alone. Please."
She flinched slightly. "Axel..."
"Please, Layla." I couldn’t look at her. "Just give so space."
I walked to my study and closed the door before she could respond.
The room was dark except for the city lights filtering through the windows. I poured myself a drink, then another, then a third. The whiskey burned going down, but did nothing to fill the emptiness inside.
It was done. Charles was dead. Twenty years of planning, of building, of waiting for this mont, and now... nothing.
I’d expected to feel satisfaction, or Triumph, or justice served. Instead, I just felt hollow.
My phone buzzed with news alerts. Charles Watson’s death was already hitting the headlines. "Prominent Businessman Dead in Confrontation." "Watson Holdings Founder Killed in Self-Defence Shooting." "Watson Empire Crumbles."
I turned the phone face down and drank so more.
There was a soft knock on the door. "Axel?" Layla’s voice was gentle. "Please talk to ."
"I said I need to be alone."
Silence. Then, quietly: "Okay. I’ll be out here if you need ."
I heard her footsteps retreating and hated myself for pushing her away. But I couldn’t... I couldn’t let her see like this. Couldn’t let her see how empty victory felt.
Hours passed, the bottle emptied, and the city lights blurred.
Eventually, exhaustion pulled under, and I slept slumped in my chair, dreaming of my parents’ faces and Charles’s dead eyes staring at nothing.
—
LAYLA’S POV
I didn’t sleep in our bed that night. It felt too big and too lonely without him. Instead, I curled up on the couch in the living room, wrapped in one of Axel’s sweaters, watching the news coverage cycle through the sa information over and over.
Charles Watson was dead.
The contamination scandal was exposed as fraud.
Eclipse Beauty’s stock was already recovering.
Justice for a closed case of over twenty years has been served.
But it didn’t feel like justice; it felt like devastation.
Helena had texted multiple tis to check on . The Duke had called, concerned. Tye had sent updates on the cleanup operation. But I couldn’t focus on any of it.
I kept seeing Charles’s face in that coffee shop. The way he’d looked at like I was his possession; the way he’d tried to manipulate one last ti.
And then his lifeless body on the concrete.
He was... gone.
I pulled the sweater tighter and waited for morning.
—
The sunrise was beautiful. The sky was pink and gold, painting the city with a soft light. I sat on the balcony, with the blanket from last night still wrapped around my shoulders, watching the world wake up.
The door behind opened quietly.
"Layla."
I turned to see Axel standing there, looking rumpled and tired. His shirt was wrinkled, his hair was dishevelled, and his eyes were red-rimd.
"Hey," I said softly.
He walked over, sitting down beside . For a long mont, we just sat there in silence, watching the sunrise together.
"I’m sorry," he finally said. "For last night. For pushing you away."
"You don’t have to apologise."
"Yes, I do." He turned to face . "You were there, you went through it too, and I shut you out. That wasn’t fair."
I took his hand, threading our fingers together. "Talk to now. Please."
He was quiet for a mont, gathering his thoughts. "I spent twenty years building toward that mont. Twenty years of planning, of plotting revenge, of living with nothing but hate and the need for justice. And now it’s done, and I just feel... empty."
"That’s normal, Axel."
"Is it?" He laughed bitterly. "I killed a man last night, Layla. I looked Charles in the eye, and I shot him. And the worst part? I don’t regret it. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. What does that make ?"
"Human," I said firmly. "It makes you human. Charles tried to kill you. He pulled a gun on you. You defended yourself."
"Did I? Or did I manipulate the situation so I’d have an excuse to pull the trigger?"
I turned to face him fully, taking both his hands. "Listen to . Charles Watson made his choices. He killed your parents. He tried to control and destroy everyone around him. He attacked you with a weapon, then pulled a gun. Whatever happens after that? That’s on him, not you."
"You don’t hate ?" His voice was small and vulnerable. "For what I did? For who I am?"
"I could never hate you," I whispered. "You saved my life, Axel. You saved from him."
He searched my face. "Do you... Do you feel anything for him? Charles? I know he raised you, and despite everything..."
"He got what he deserved," I said without hesitation. "I won’t pretend to mourn a monster just because he happened to raise . He was never a real father. Real fathers don’t favour one child over another. They don’t try to control and manipulate them. Charles Watson was a predator, and now he’s gone. That’s all there is to it."
Axel pulled close, burying his face in my hair. "I don’t deserve you."
"Stop saying that." I held him tightly. "We deserve each other. We survived him, together. That’s what matters."
We sat like that for a while, wrapped in each other as the sun climbed higher in the sky.
Finally, Axel pulled back. "I’m going to the cetery today to visit my parents’ graves. To tell them... to tell them it’s over."
"Do you want to co with you?" I asked gently. "Or do you need to do this alone?"
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