'I Do' For Revenge
Chapter 212: Your Wife’s DNA
CHAPTER 212: YOUR WIFE’S DNA
~LAYLA~
"Are we sure we’r e in the right pl ace?" I asked, staring out the window. "This looks like where peo p le disappear."
"It looks warm," Axel said sarcastically.
The Rolls-Royce drove slowly over the gravel driveway. Looking through the ra in-streaked windo w, Bl ackwood Manor looked like something out of a horror movie. It had grey stone, tall towers, and ivy growing up the walls. It was lovely, of course. But it was also scary.
The car stopped in front of a massive oa k doors. Before the driver could even get out, the doors swung open.
A group of staff members was waitin g. There were ma ids in black an d white uniforms, footm en, and a butler who looked like he’d been ironing himself. But it was the three people standing at the front who caught my attention.
Pennyworth looked relieved to see us.
Beside him was who I believed was Lady Isabelle. She was tall and slim and wore a tweed suit. Her blonde hair was pulled back so tightly it probabl y hurt, and her face show ed nothing, no expression at all.
And beside him was Julian. He looked like a model who’d gotten lost on his w ay to a photoshoot. Same blonde hair like his mother, straight nose, and a slouc h that screamed, "I’m better than you."
"Showtime," Axel murmu red.
I stepped out into cold, damp air. Axel was beside me in an instant, placing his hand on my back.
" Mrs. O’Brien," Pennyworth said, stepping forward with a bow. "Welcome to Blackwood Manor."
"Thank yo u, Arthur," I said.
Lady Isabelle stepped fo rwa rd. She d idn’t offer her hand. She just looked me up and down like I was something sh e found on her shoe. "So," she said in a sharp voice. "You actually came."
"The Duke asked for me," I said, meeting her eyes. I pulled out my C EO voice. "I wasn’t going to ignore a dying man ’s wish."
Her lip curled. "Ho w American. Sentimentality is so tedious."
"Mother," Julian drawled, stepping up. He looked at me with a fake smile. "D on’t be rude. We should welcome our guest."
He said " guest" l ike I was temporary, like I’d be gone soo n.
"I’m Julian," he said. "Your cousin. Though I suppose w e’ll see what the DNA test says about that, won’t we?"
"We will," Axel replied in a tone that sounded dangerous. H e stepped forward , and Julian actually f linched. "I’m Axel O’Brien, her husba nd."
Julian looked at Axel, then at the two large security guards behind us. He swallowed. "Charmed."
"Come i nsid e," Isabelle comma nded, turning around. "I t’s freezing, and the Duke is resting. You won’t be able to see him until the doctors clear it."
We followe d them into the foyer. It was huge: marble floors, a chandelier the size of a car, and it smelled like old furniture and cold stone.
"We’ve prepared the Blue Room for you," Isabelle said, gesturing to the butler. "It ’s quite comfortab le. Down the East Hall."
"That’s fine," Axel said. "I’ll just have my team sweep the room befo re our ba gs go up."
Is abelle stiffened. "This is a private home, Mr O’Brien, not a hotel. We do not have ’sweeps.’"
"Your securit y scanned us at the entrance," Axel said calmly. "It’s only fair we re turn the courtesy. My wife’s life isn’t som ethi ng I take chances wi th. And considering your family history of convenie nt accidents, I’m sure you understand."
Isabelle went pale and Julian’s jaw clenched.
"Fine," Isabelle snappe d. "But try not to break anything. Some of these pieces are older than your country."
She walked away, her heels clickin g on the marble.
"Friendly," Axel not ed.
"They hate me," I whispered.
"Good," Axel said, looking around with predator eyes. "That means they’re scared."
We were l ed up a staircase th at seemed endless. The "Blue Room" was exac tly what they called it. Blue wa lls, blue c urtains, and a four-poster bed that looked like it came from a museum. It was beautiful, but the air felt stale.
"Don’t unpack yet," Axel told me as the footman left.
He nodded to Russo, his security guy who’d flown in early. Rus so pulled out a device and started scanning the walls, lam ps, a nd even the old t elephone in the room .
"You really th ink they’d bug the ro om?" I asked, hugging myself for warmth. "Ax el, they’re aristocrats, not spies."
"They’re pe ople protecting billions of dollars, Layla," Axel said, checkin g the balcony lock. "People kill for a lot less."
Rus so finished and shook his head. "Clean, Boss."
"Better safe than sorry," Axel said.
A sudden knock made me jump.
"Mrs. O’Brien?" it was Pe nnywo rth’s voice. "The physician is here to coll ect samples for th e DNA test. Lady Isabelle insis ts we do it immediately."
I looked at Axel. He straightened his j acket. "Shall we?" he asked.
—
We went back downs tairs to a drawing room that felt more like an interrogation chamber. A fire was roaring in the hearth, but it did little to warm the tension in the room.
Isabelle and Julian were sitting on a sofa, posed like they were models for a paintin g, sipping tea.
A doctor stood by the wind ow, an older man with a grey beard and a medical ba g in han d.
"Ah, Mrs. O’Brien," the doctor said kindly. "I’ m Dr. Th ornhill. This will only take a moment. A simple cheek swab for DN A com parison."
"Comparison to what?" I asked.
"To the Duke’s DNA, which we have on file," Dr. Thornhill explained. "And w e’ll need a sample from you as well, Mr. Huntington, for comparison purposes."
Julian looked annoyed but nodded.
"And what happens to the samples after?" Axel asked.
"They’ll be sent to our laboratory," Dr. Thornhill said. "Results in forty-eight hours."
"No," Axel said flatly.
Everyone looked at him.
"I’m sorry?" Dr. Thornhill blinked.
"We want independent verification," Axel said. "My wife’s sample will be split. Half goes to your lab, and another half goes to a l ab of our choosing. We co mpare the result s; that way, there’s no chance of tampering."
"How dare you..." Isabelle started.
"It’s standard procedure," Axe l interrupted. "Unless you have a problem w ith accuracy ?"
Isabell e’s face went red, but she said nothing.
"That’s perfectly acceptable," Dr. Th ornhill said quickly. "Very professional, actually . You are v ery thorough, Mr. O’Brien."
"I’m protective," Axel corrected. "There’s a difference."
He gestured to the doctor. "Please, you c an proceed."