CHAPTER 167: FIND THE ASSOCIATE

~LAYLA~

"What?!" The word burst out louder than I intended, drawing glances from nearby tables.

"Marry me," Marco repeated, as calm as if he were discussing the weather.

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. The absurdity of the situation and the audacity of this man, it all bubbled up into real laughter. "I didn’t realise you were a comedian, Marco."

He seemed to take that as a compliment, adjusting his posture with a satisfied smile. "Well, thank you. Even though I’m not joking."

"I’m married, Marco." I gestured to my ring finger, the diamonds there far more meaningful than the bracelet on my wrist. "And you know that."

"So?"

"So?!" I set down my fork, staring at him in disbelief. "Marco, listen. I love my husband, and my husband loves me. This dinner was..."

"A mistake?" he interrupted smoothly. "I don’t think so. I think you came here because deep down, you know I’m offering you a way out. A real solution."

"The only solution I need is for your family to realise they’re going after the wrong people." I reached for my bag, my patience officially exhausted. "I agreed to this dinner partly out of courtesy, partly because I thought we could have a rational conversation about clearing up this misunderstanding. But I won’t stand for this level of disrespect. Thanks for dinner. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

I started to stand, but Marco’s voice stopped me. "Layla, we are not done here."

"Maybe you’re not. But I’m done, and I’m leaving."

"Sit." It wasn’t a request. His voice had gone cold, taking a dangerous tone.

I leaned forward instead, my hands on the table, meeting his eyes directly. "Or what? You’ll pull out a gun on me in front of everyone here? In a restaurant full of witnesses, with my security guards watching, with cameras everywhere?"

Silence. His jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

"I didn’t think so." I straightened, shouldering my bag. "Goodbye, Marco."

I turned and walked away confidently, even though my heart was pounding. I could feel his eyes boring into my back, feel his anger following me across the restaurant. But I didn’t look back.

Tye appeared at my elbow as I passed the bar, still in his waiter disguise. "Layla, let me escort you out."

"Thank you," I said quietly, grateful for his presence.

He walked beside me to the entrance, his hand hovering near his concealed weapon. My two security guards materialised from their positions, flanking us as we exited onto the waterfront.

The cool night air hit my face, and I took in a deep breath, trying to calm my racing pulse.

"Mrs. O’Brien?" One of the guards opened the SUV door. "Are you alright?"

"I’m fine," I managed, though my hands were shaking as I climbed into the backseat.

The door closed. Through the tinted windows, I watched Tye shed his waiter jacket and glasses, transforming back into himself in seconds. He said something into his phone, probably updating Axel, then disappeared into the surveillance van parked down the street.

I leaned back against the seat, closing my eyes, trying to gather my composure.

My mind kept replaying the moment Marco had said those words: Marry me. The entitlement in his voice, the assumption that I’d consider it, like my marriage was just an inconvenient detail to be worked around.

The rage I’d kept controlled during dinner threatened to bubble over now that I was alone.

Suddenly, the door yanked open.

Before I could react, Axel was there, pulling me from the car and into his arms. His kiss was intense and filled with unexpressed emotions.

He held my face gently, making me feel like I was all he had. In that moment, everything else disappeared; it was just us, and the warmth of his lips ignited a deep connection.

It felt like he was sharing everything he couldn’t say, making me feel valued and alive, as if I could finally grasp the depth of his feelings.

"You’re safe," he breathed against my lips. "Thank God, you’re safe."

"I’m okay," I whispered back, though I was trembling. "I’m okay."

"We heard everything through the wire. When he said..." Axel’s voice broke. "When he proposed, I nearly stormed in there."

"I know. But I handled it."

"You did." He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes scanning my face. "You were incredible. But we’re done. No more meetings with Marco, no more dinners, no more..."

"Agreed." I touched his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat. "Take me home. Please."

"Let’s go."

He kept me close as we got into his car, different from the SUV, one he’d driven himself from the surveillance location. Tye climbed into the passenger seat while my security detail followed in their vehicles.

The drive home was quiet. Axel’s hand never left mine, his thumb stroking over my knuckles in a steady rhythm. Every few seconds, he’d glance at me, as if making sure I was still there, still real.

At home, we gathered in the living room. Tye had already pulled off his disguise completely, looking more like himself in jeans and a t-shirt. He poured three glasses of whiskey, handing them out without a word.

"Tell us everything," Axel said, once we were all seated. "Every detail."

I recounted the entire dinner, from Marco’s initial charm to his revelation about the lawyer’s associate to his shocking proposal.

"Marry you?" Tye said, when I got to that part. "That’s either incredibly bold or incredibly stupid."

"Both," I said. "He actually seemed surprised when I turned him down. Like he couldn’t comprehend why I’d refuse."

"Narcissist," Axel muttered. "Classic narcissist who thinks everyone should want what he’s offering."

"The important part is what he said before that," Tye interjected. "About the lawyer’s associate. Junior lawyer with access to confidential files and expensive tastes. That’s specific enough to track down."

I nodded. "He said it was easy. A little cash, a little pressure, and they had everything they needed."

"Everything they needed to frame Eclipse Beauty," Axel finished. "Financial records, transaction histories, enough legitimate data mixed with fabricated evidence to make it look real."

"So we find this associate," Tye said. "We find out who paid them off, we get proof it was Charles, and we take that proof to the Sinaloa."

"How do we find them?" I asked. "There are thousands of junior associates in this city."

Axel was quiet for a moment, his expression darkening. "We start with the people who had access to our real financial records. The only outsiders with that level of detail would be..."

"Our legal team," I finished, the realisation hitting me like ice water. "Someone from Brennan’s firm."

"Not Brennan," Axel said immediately. "He’s been with me for years. I trust him completely."

"But what about his associates?" Tye leaned forward. "Young lawyers, probably drowning in student debt, working insane hours for relatively low pay compared to what they could make in the private sector. Exactly the type of person who’d be vulnerable to a big payday from the Sinaloa."

"Or from Charles," I added. "Charles could have been the middleman. Paid off someone in Brennan’s firm, got our real records, then mixed them with fabricated evidence before selling everything to the Sinaloa."

Axel stood, beginning to pace. "That would explain how the documentation looked so legitimate. They used our actual data as a foundation, then built their frame job on top of it."

"So what do we do?" I asked. "Confront Brennan? Ask him to investigate his own people?"

"Naahh," Axel said. "If we spook the wrong person, they’ll destroy evidence or run. But if we can identify who took the payoff and get them to talk..."

"We prove Charles was behind it," Tye finished. "And the Sinaloa redirects their very considerable anger toward him instead of you."

"It’s risky," I said. "If we’re wrong, if it’s not someone from Brennan’s firm—"

"Then we keep looking," Axel said firmly. "But Marco gave you gold tonight, Layla. That narrows down our suspect pool considerably."

"So when do we find this associate?" I asked.

"Tomorrow morning," Axel said. "First thing. We’ll start with the associate who handled our case with Brennan."