168

168


Laila’s POV

I was determined to get to the root of this. I couldn’t let Michael’s lies go unpunished, especially after everything he had done. The moment I heard they had apprehended the criminal, I knew I couldn’t waste time. Without hesitation, I decided to follow Nolan to meet him. As we arrived, I could see the fear in Michael's eyes. He refused to speak unless I gave him something in return. The arrogance in his voice grated on my nerves.

"I'll only tell you the truth when you sleep with me," he said, his voice dripping with smugness.

I clenched my fists, fighting the surge of anger coursing through me. My company, my reputation, everything I had worked for was hanging by a thread. I was not the type to trust easily, but I had no other choice but to take this step. My heart was pounding, but my face remained steely, betraying no emotion. The knife in my hand gleamed under the dim light, and I stepped closer to him, my eyes narrowing.

"Tell me what happened. Why did you do it?" I demanded, my voice steady, despite the emotions swirling inside me.

Michael paled, his bravado faltering. His eyes darted to the knife in my hand, and for a brief moment, I could see genuine fear flicker in his eyes. "Please, don’t… If you don’t want me to lose my manhood, I’ll tell you," he stammered, his voice now shaking.

I could almost hear my heartbeat in my ears as he finally confessed, his words tumbling out in a hurried, desperate rush. "Sharon, my ex-girlfriend… She’s the one behind this. She was the girl at the hotel that day. It wasn’t my fault! She tricked me! She said she’d pay me if I pretended to sleep with her, to pretend that I raped her... I didn’t know what I was getting into," he continued, his voice cracking with the weight of his confession.

His words hung in the air, thick with guilt and desperation. "I didn’t know who sent her or why she asked me to do it. I’m just a gangster, I was paid to do it. I didn’t know anything else, I swear! Please, don’t hurt me!" He was on his knees now, pleading, his voice desperate.

I stared at him for a moment, trying to process his words. The air around us felt thick with tension, every breath I took feeling heavier than the last. "Do you have proof of all this?" I asked, my voice cold as steel. I couldn’t afford to take him at his word. Not yet.

Michael nodded frantically. "Yes! Yes! I have proof!" he said. With trembling hands, he reached into his back pocket, pulling out a phone. "Here, take it. All the proof you need is in there."

Nolan stepped forward, taking the phone from Michael’s hands. "We’ll take this to the police," I said, my voice unwavering. Michael’s eyes widened in fear, and he scrambled to his feet, his hands outstretched as if to stop us.

"No! Please!" he begged, falling to his knees again. "Don’t send me to jail! I can’t! I’ll be found guilty, and I’ll spend the rest of my life in prison! You said you would let me go if I told you the truth. Please, don’t go back on your word!"

His words were like nails on a chalkboard, and I couldn’t help the disgust that washed over me. How could someone like him just think he could get away with everything because he’d confessed?

"You're lucky I’m not cutting you open right now," I said through gritted teeth. "But don’t mistake this for mercy. I’ll think about it," I added, turning on my heel. Nolan followed me without another word.

We left the basement, the air outside feeling fresh and cooler against my skin. Nolan didn’t speak until we were safely back in the car. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, my hands still shaking from the tension. Nolan reached over, placing a hand on mine.

"We’ll get him and Sharon, don’t worry," he said. I nodded, my emotions still raw.

When we arrived home, Nolan had prepared lunch—spaghetti and chicken. It was a simple meal, but for some reason, it felt like comfort in that moment. I sat at the table, trying to steady my breathing, my mind racing through the events that had just transpired.

"The police are handling Michael and Sharon," Nolan said, breaking the silence. "But Hamilton... She’s not going to make it easy for us."

I looked up at him, my jaw clenched. "She’s a cunning woman," I muttered, my anger flaring again. "She pushed the blame onto someone else. It’s always someone else with her."

Nolan’s face softened. "We’ll get her too, Laila. But we need to be careful. She's got connections, allies everywhere. If we push too hard now, we might not get the result we want."

I looked at him, confused. "What do you mean, we need to be careful? We’ve got the evidence, we have the proof. Why wait?"

Nolan leaned forward, his expression serious. "If you go after her directly, she’ll find a way to slip through the cracks. But if we let her think she’s won—if we make her believe she’s out of danger—then we can bring her down for good."

I frowned, not fully understanding what he was suggesting. "You want me to back off? Let her think everything’s fine?"

He nodded slowly. "Exactly. Let her go free, for now. But keep her in your sights. We’ll wait for the right moment. And when she’s least expecting it, we’ll strike."

The idea made my stomach twist with unease, but I knew he was right. Hamilton wasn’t just any woman. She was dangerous, and if we didn’t outsmart her, we’d never bring her to justice.

The next day, while I was out shopping, I ran into Hamilton at the mall. She was as smug as ever, her face gleaming with arrogance. I couldn’t help the tension that immediately gripped my chest as she approached me. She looked me up and down, a mocking smile on her lips.

"Well, well, Laila," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I see you’ve recovered from the rape case. But I bet your business isn’t doing as well as before, is it? I heard your sales have dropped."

I forced myself to smile, though it was thin and tight. "You don’t need to worry about my business, Hamilton. In fact, the Martin's Group is doing just fine. Our other ventures are thriving, and the drop in hotel sales doesn’t affect the overall success of the company."

She scoffed, her eyes narrowing in challenge. "Oh, really? Because from what I hear, your furniture business barely made six figures last month. How does that feel, Laila?"

Her words were meant to sting, and I could feel my blood boil beneath the surface. But I held my composure, meeting her gaze with a calm I didn’t feel.

"And by the way," I added with a cold smile, "I’m sure your precious daughter, Mara, is hiding in the shadows now, isn’t she? It must be tough, relying on others when you can’t protect her from the consequences of your actions."

Hamilton’s face contorted in rage, and for a moment, I thought she might strike me. But instead, she sneered. "You little brat. How dare you speak to me like that. I raised you, and this is how you repay me?"

I arched an eyebrow, not backing down. "Raised me? You raised me like a puppet, controlled and manipulated. And now, you’re reaping what you sowed. You and Mara will get what’s coming to you, Hamilton. Karma’s a bitch."

Hamilton’s face went pale with fury as she stormed off, but I couldn’t help the sense of satisfaction that surged through me. She had underestimated me. She had no idea what was coming next.

\---

Hamilton’s POV

Seeing Laila in the mall was like a slap in the face. I thought she would be cowering after everything that happened, but there she was, standing tall and defiant. I couldn’t help but feel a surge of anger. How dare she speak to me like that? She was nothing more than a pawn in my game, and yet she dared to confront me.

When I told her about her business struggles, I expected her to crumble, but instead, she stood there with that cold, unflinching stare. It was almost as if she didn’t care.

But when she mentioned Mara... That was the breaking point. I could feel my blood boil at the thought of my daughter’s name being dragged into this mess. I had raised her to be better than this, but now, everything was falling apart.

Later, when I met with Mr. Williams at the coffee shop, I thought the day would settle. We were celebrating our success, but my mind kept going back to Laila’s words. She was right about one thing—my daughter was hiding, and I couldn’t protect her forever. And then, just as we were discussing the shipment dates, I received the call that would change everything.

As I sat there across from Mr. Williams, my fingers tightened around my coffee cup, the warm steam rising in front of my face. My thoughts were clouded with the confrontation I had just had with Hamilton. She had been so smug, so proud of herself, that it made me sick. But as much as I wanted to feel satisfied by our exchange, something about her demeanor lingered in my mind, gnawing at me.

The sound of Mr. Williams’ phone ringing snapped me back to reality. His face turned from calm to tense as he answered, his brow furrowing. I could feel the change in the air. Something was off. I leaned in slightly, sensing that what I had been waiting for was about to come.

“Hello? Yes, about the shipment date—what do you want us to do about it?” he asked, his voice steady, but there was a subtle tremor underneath.

I raised an eyebrow. What was this about? Redwood Furniture? That was one of our biggest partners, and their relationship with us had been vital to our success. The silence stretched on for a beat too long before his face suddenly went pale, and his grip on the phone tightened. I could tell something had gone terribly wrong.

“What? You’re canceling it? Why? Wait—hello? Hello?” he shouted, his voice rising in panic. He was clearly trying to salvage the conversation, but whatever was being said on the other end was not something he wanted to hear.

I could feel my heart rate increase, a mixture of dread and curiosity swirling inside me. What was going on? Mr. Williams’ face grew more strained with each passing second, his grip on the phone so tight that his knuckles whitened.

I leaned forward, my voice barely a whisper, “Mr. Williams, what’s going on? What did they say?”

His eyes flicked to me, and for a brief moment, they were filled with something close to terror.