Chapter 100: Plans against her

Desmond's POV

The restaurant was dimly lit, its ambiance meant to evoke comfort, but it did nothing to calm the storm brewing inside me. I sat at the far corner, nursing a glass of whiskey that did little to dull my anger. The termination email from the Emperor's Company had been staring back at me on my phone all day, mocking me. The contract was gone-my lifeline, my safety net-ripped away by that insufferable woman, Laila.

I clenched the glass tighter, the cold press of it against my palm grounding me as I thought of all the ways my carefully built empire was now at risk. The Emperor's Company was the foundation of everything I had stolen... or, as I preferred to call it, earned. And Brenda-that useless woman-had made it worse.

Brenda's smug face flashed in my mind. My fiancée. The one person I thought I could manipulate to my advantage had sabotaged everything. Laila had slipped through my fingers at the gala because of her unnecessary jealousy and theatrics. I couldn't even look at Brenda without wanting to strangle her. I'd slapped her earlier, but even that hadn't made me feel better. Nothing could soothe the fire in my veins, not until I got my revenge.

"Auntie, I Need Your Help"

When Aunt Hamilton arrived, I forced myself to sit upright. Her calculating eyes swept over me as she took a seat, her impeccable maroon pantsuit glowing under the restaurant's warm lights. The air between us was tense, thick with unspoken desperation. She offered me a thin smile, the kind she wore when she knew she had the upper hand.

"Auntie, you have to help me this time," I said, my voice a mix of anger and pleading. My knuckles whitened as I gripped the edge of the table. "I need that partnership with the Emperor's Company. I need Laila to be on my side. That money is everything to me. If I lose it…" My voice trailed off, but the threat lingered.

Hamilton leaned back, her eyes narrowing as the waitress approached with our drinks. She waited until the woman was gone before speaking. "You know who my stepdaughter is," she said carefully, her lips pursed. "She's strict, Desmond. With her weight, her time, and everything else. If Laila is anything like her, I don't think I can help you."

My heart sank, but I refused to let it show. "Auntie," I said, my voice harder now, "if you don't help me, I'll lose everything. Everything. Do you understand? The collaboration will end, and I'll have nothing left."

She shook her head, almost pitying me, but I could see the flicker of annoyance in her eyes. "Desmond, I'm sorry, but you need to understand. That girl has changed. She's not the same Laila we used to manipulate. Ever since she survived Mara's attack, she's been... different. Stronger. She's not someone I can control anymore."

The words hit me like a blow. "What do you mean you can't control her?" I demanded, leaning forward. My voice rose, drawing a few curious glances from nearby tables. "You're her aunt! You've always had a way with her!"

Hamilton's lips curled into a bitter smile. "Not anymore. She's suspended me from the company. Me-and Mara." She spat her daughter's name like it tasted sour. "Neither of us are allowed near the Emperor's Company anymore. Laila made sure of it."

My fists slammed onto the table, rattling the silverware. "Suspended?" I hissed, my voice low and venomous. "What gives her the right? Aren't you on good terms with her? Why would she turn on you like this?"

Hamilton's expression darkened, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of unease in her eyes. "Ever since she came back," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper, "she's been... different. It's as if she's planning something-revenge, maybe. She's cold, calculating. Nothing like the fragile girl we once knew."

Revenge. The word sent a shiver down my spine. Laila's survival had already cost me too much. If she was indeed seeking revenge, then everything I'd built would come crashing down.

"She should've died," I growled, gripping my glass tightly. The memory of my wife-Miranda-flooded my mind. I'd done what needed to be done to take her company. Killing her had been easy, almost too easy. But Laila? That woman had been like a cockroach, refusing to die no matter how many times I tried to snuff her out. "If Mara had just killed her that day, like she was supposed to…"

Hamilton's eyes gleamed with interest, her lips curving into a wicked smile. "If you ask me, the problem wasn't Mara," she said smoothly, swirling her wine. "The problem was Laila herself. That girl is harder to kill than I ever imagined."

My laugh was bitter as I sipped my whiskey. "If she were dead," I said darkly, "you'd be the CEO of the Emperor's Company by now. I wouldn't have to grovel for partnerships or deals. Everything would've been ours."

Hamilton set her glass down with a soft clink. "You don't need to remind me of what could've been, Desmond," she said, her voice laced with annoyance. "What matters now is what we do moving forward."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite my fury. "Do you have a plan?"

Her smile was slow and deliberate, like a predator cornering its prey. "If Laila refuses to die, we'll just have to kill her again. Properly, this time."

Her words hung in the air, sharp and dangerous. A rush of adrenaline coursed through me, my anger replaced with a sickening anticipation. "And how do you plan to do that?"

Hamilton pulled out her phone, her long nails clicking against the screen as she dialed a number. I watched her closely, my heart pounding with a mixture of fear and excitement. Who was she calling?

"Hello, Drogo," she purred into the phone, her voice as sweet as honey. "I have a job for you. Make it clean and quick. I want good news by the end of the week. You'll receive your usual payment."

The voice on the other end was deep and gravelly. "Consider it done, ma'am."

As she ended the call, Hamilton turned to me with a wicked grin. "Now, let's see how Laila survives this."

A chill ran down my spine, but I forced a smirk. "Good," I said, raising my glass. "This time, she won't escape."

As we toasted to Laila's demise.