'I Do' For Revenge Chapter 8: Scam Marriage

~LAYLA~

Waking up that morning, I felt the energy and peace I hadn’t had in months, if not years.

Talking back to my father last night wasn’t just lashing out. It was about taking the power from him and putting it in my own hands where it should be.

I took my ti in the shower, belting a tune and letting the hot water soak into my skin before stepping out and moving to my wardrobe.

It was my first day at Axel’s company, and my first official step into this new life. So I

grabbed a fitted black leather pencil skirt that hugged my curves without looking too over-the-top, pairing it with a soft ivory silk blouse that felt both elegant and confident.

Then I pulled my hair back into a tight ponytail, kept my accessories simple, and wore black heels. By the ti I was done, I looked perfectly in control.

Good. Just the way I wanted it.

It was honestly surprising seeing Axel already downstairs, halfway through his breakfast. This was a routine I would have to get used to because this man operated on his own private clock where sleep was optional.

He looked up as I approached, his eyes scanning slowly from head to toe and I felt a little conscious. Was my dressing over the top? Or too little?

Unfortunately, he said nothing. Not even a complint, nor a smirk and simply went back to sipping his coffee.

I slid into my seat, picking at the breakfast the staff had laid out, suddenly hyper-aware of every bite.

Maybe I should’ve worn sothing else.

Or maybe we needed to talk about our communication skills if this marriage was going to work.

"Ready?" His voice cut through my train of thought.

I glanced at him. "Yes."

"Good. We leave in ten."

I rushed through the rest of my al, barely tasting anything, and in less than ten minutes, we were out the door and sliding into the backseat of his car.

Axel’s attention was glued to his phone the entire ride, his thumb scrolling, and occasionally typing sothing without looking my way.

I kept peeking at him from the corner of my eye, waiting for a tip, a warning, or even a sarcastic "don’t embarrass ."

But he said nothing.

We arrived at the company’s shiny glass headquarters, and I hardly had a mont to appreciate the modern architecture when I suddenly felt his hand gently resting on my waist. It wasn’t forceful or intrusive, just a quiet statent that I belonged to him.

This husband of mine sure knew how to switch it up when we were in public.

As we walked through the lobby, I could feel people watching us and whispering to each other.

Axel stopped at a desk and called out, "Helena."

A petite brunette with glasses practically

sprinted over. "Yes, sir?"

"This is Layla. You’ll be her assistant from now on."

"Yes, sir."

Without missing a beat, Axel turned to , and before I could even process it, he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek.

It was nothing romantic, but the temperature in the room still seed to spike ten degrees.

"See you later." He said with a smile that made my heart nearly leap out of my chest.

What was happening to .

"Y-yeah later." I stamred, my cheeks flushed.

With a smug smile Axel disappeared toward elevator. That bastard knew what he had done.

Helena didn’t say a word regarding what just played out, beaming at instead. "Mrs. O’Brien, it’s an honour. I’m Helena Porter, your personal assistant."

Then she handed a neat stack of files. "Here’s an overview of the board structure, your preliminary schedule, and so active projects Mr. O’Brien thought you might be interested in."

I nodded. "Thank you, Helena."

That was quite thoughtful of him.

She led through the top floor until we stopped in front of a glass-walled office with a sweeping view of the city.

My office.

"Wow," I murmured.

Helena giggled. "You’re a lucky woman, ma. Most of the won here would kill to be in your shoes. Mr. O’Brien’s... Well, he’s the dream."

I just smiled faintly.

People always thought they knew. They judged by the picture, and never the story behind it. Not that I was complaining.

"Thanks, Helena. I’ll take it from here."

I wasn’t about to get too cozy with my assistant on the first day. There had to be so boundaries drawn here.

"Of course, Mrs. O’Brien. If you need anything, just hit the button on your desk."

"Sure, and call Layla, please."

As much as I wanted our relationship to remain professional, it didn’t need to be stiffly formal.

"Okay, Mrs Layla." With that, she slipped out, leaving to drop into the plush leather chair behind my desk.

For about twenty minutes I worked in silence until I heard Helena’s voice from outside. It was higher than usual and sounded a bit panicked.

"I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t just..."

The office door slamd open, and Charles Watson walked in.

Oh great.

"Layla." His tone was sharp enough to cut glass.

Helena hurried in behind him, flushed and flustered. "I tried to stop him, ma..."

"It’s fine, Helena," I said calmly. "You can go."

She hesitated but left, closing the door behind her.

I looked at my father, leaning back in my chair like he hadn’t just barged into my office. "To what do I owe the intrusion?"

"I’m here to talk so sense into you," he said with disdain. "You think you can survive in this world without and my connections?"

"I think I already am," I answered him pointedly.

"You’re a disgrace to our family na, Layla. But I’ll forgive you if you end this madness now and co ho."

I almost laughed. "You lost the right to advise a long ti ago. Also have you forgotten I’m married, father. I don’t belong to you anymore."

Charles’ jaw worked. "You’re being unreasonable right now."

I scoffed. "Unreasonable?" Then my gaze hardened. "I think you’re the unreasonable one by asking a married woman to return to her father’s house."

"Married?" My father scoffed. "You an your scam of a marriage, or do you think I don’t know you’re doing this to get back at ?"

This ti his words hit so hard I had no choice but to stand to my feet. To be honest, I had no idea where the guts ca from but standing in front of him, I retorted, "Scam marriage, huh? So what are you going to do about it?"

Charles Watson’s face twisted with anger so intense that for a mont, I feared he was going to hit .

Instead, he grabbed my wrist. "You’re coming with right now."

"Let go!" I yanked against his grip, but his fingers dug in.

"You’ve embarrassed enough..."

The door opened again, and a familiar voice thundered. "Let. Her. Go."

Axel’s voice was lethal and I had never seen such a murderous look in his eyes.

My father froze, glancing over his shoulder to see Axel stepping inside with two of his security guards flanking the doorway.

Charles looked back and forth between them, weighing his options. He let go of gently, his hand falling to his side.

"Escort him out," Axel ordered.

The guards moved in to grab him just as Charles leaned in just enough for only to hear. "Foolish girl, you don’t even have any idea who he really is."