'I Do' For Revenge-Chapter 247: The Photo

AXEL’S POV

"Over here," I said quietly as I guided Layla through the main gates, our footsteps crunching on the gravel path.

Riverside Cemetery was quiet under the gray morning sky. The silence felt heavy, almost suffocating.

I hadn’t been here in a few months, not since the twentieth anniversary of their death. Back then, we were about to start Phase 2 of our plan.

But now...

"Watch your step," I said as Layla almost stumbled over a stone on the path leading toward two simple headstones beneath an old oak tree.

ROBERT JAMES HAMMOND Beloved Husband and Father 1965 - 1998

SARAH ELIZABETH HAMMOND Beloved Wife and Mother 1967 - 1998

I stopped a few feet away, my chest tightening. Layla squeezed my hand but said nothing, giving me space.

"Hey, Mom. Dad." My voice cracked. "It’s been a while."

The words caught in my throat. After twenty years of planning, hatred, and single-minded revenge, I couldn’t find a way to tell them it was over.

"I... I did it. Charles Watson. I promised you both that I was going to get revenge for you two." I swallowed hard. "And I did. He can’t hurt anyone ever again. Not me, not Layla, not anyone. It’s done."

I waited, as if expecting them to respond. The wind rustled through the oak leaves above us.

"I thought I’d feel different," I said. "I expected a rush of triumph or victory. But mostly, I just feel tired. Maybe a little bit at peace, too."

Layla stepped closer, her shoulder touching mine.

"I want you to meet someone," I said, my voice steadier now. "This is Layla. My wife. She’s everything, Mom. She’s smart and strong and kind, even after everything she’s been through. Dad, you would have loved her wit. She doesn’t take any of my crap."

A small smile tugged at my lips despite the tears threatening to fall.

"I wish you could have met her. I wish she could have known you." I paused. "But I think you’d be proud. Not of the revenge, maybe. But of the fact that I found her. That I have a chance at a real life now."

Layla gently pulled away and placed a bouquet of white lilies at the base of the headstones. She stood there for a moment, her head bowed, then stepped back to my side.

"Thank you," I whispered to her.

She just squeezed my hand again.

I took a deep breath, looking at my parents’ names carved in stone. "I spent twenty years letting Charles define my life. Every decision, every move, all of it was about destroying him. But standing here now, I realise something. My future isn’t about a dead man anymore. It’s about her. It’s about us. It’s about building something instead of tearing things down."

The weight that had been pressing on my chest since last night began to lift.

"Rest easy now," I said softly. "I love you both. And I’m going to be okay."

We stood there for a few more minutes in silence, then slowly walked back to the car.

As we drove away, I felt something I hadn’t felt in two decades: free.

—

Back at the penthouse, I headed straight for my private study. The one room Layla rarely entered because it was my sanctuary, my war room where I’d planned everything.

"I need to clean this out," I said, looking around at the filing cabinets, the locked safe, the evidence boards still covered with photos and notes. "All of it. I don’t want any of this darkness anymore."

"I’ll help you," Layla said from the doorway.

I looked at her, surprised. "You don’t have to..."

"I want to," she interrupted. "Let’s do this together."

We started pulling files out of cabinets. Twenty years of surveillance photos, financial records, blackmail material, and legal documents, everything I’d collected in my quest to destroy Charles.

It felt good to tear it all down and watch the shredder consume page after page of obsession and hatred.

"Trash or shred?" Layla asked, holding up a folder.

"Shred anything with personal information. Trash the rest."

We worked in comfortable silence for a while, the shredder humming steadily. It felt symbolic, destroying the past piece by piece.

I was sorting through a stack of old surveillance reports when Layla made a sound. It wasn’t quite a laugh; it was more like a strangled giggle.

"Axel?"

"Yeah?"

"Is this you?"

I looked up to see her holding a photo; her hand was over her mouth, and her eyes showed she was trying not to laugh.

My stomach dropped. That photo. I’d forgotten about that damn photo.

It was me, maybe ten years younger, wearing what had to be the worst disguise in the history of surveillance: a terrible wig that looked like it came from a Halloween store, oversized glasses, and what could only be described as a sad attempt at a fake moustache.

"Where did you find that?" I asked, already moving toward her.

"Answer the question," she said, grinning. "Is this you?"

I reached for it. "That was necessary surveillance camouflage!"

She pulled it away, laughing out loud. "You look like you’re about to start a bad rock band! What is this, your emo phase?"

"Give me that!" I lunged for it, but she danced away, still laughing.

"Not until you explain the moustache!" 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

"I was undercover at a business conference!" I was laughing now, too, despite my embarrassment. "Charles was speaking, and I needed to get close!"

"You look ridiculous!"

"I was effective!"

"You look like a discount detective from a terrible movie!"

I grabbed for her, and she squealed, trying to dodge, but I caught her around the waist. We tumbled onto the rug, both of us laughing so hard we could barely breathe.

"You’re never letting this go, are you?" I asked, grinning down at her.

"Never," she confirmed, pulling me down for a kiss.

The photo lay forgotten beside us. This was it... this moment, laughing, happy, and free. We’d made it through the darkness. We’d survived.

Suddenly, my phone rang.

"Ignore it," Layla whispered against my lips.

I groaned, rolling slightly to check the screen. "It’s Tye. I should probably..."

"Fine," she sighed. "But make it quick."

I grabbed the phone and stood up, walking toward the window. "Yeah?"

"Hey Ax, sorry to interrupt, but I need final authorisation on the press release about Charles. Media’s going crazy with speculation."

"Right. Just use the standard statement we prepared."

"Self-defence, pending investigation, no further comment?"

"Exactly. Keep it simple."

"Got it. Also, legal wants to review the wording about the Eclipse situation. Should I send it over?"

"Yeah, send it over, and I’ll approve it this afternoon." I glanced back at Layla, who was gathering scattered papers. "Make sure legal reviews it first. I don’t want any loopholes."

"Will do. One more thing... the FBI wants a follow-up interview tomorrow at ten."

"Fine. Schedule it."

"Alright. Oh, and the media’s asking about Charles’s business holdings. Want me to..."

"Tell them no comment. Everything goes through legal from now on."

"Copy that. I’ll handle it."

"Thanks, Tye." I ended the call and turned back to Layla with a smile. "Sorry about that. Tye needed final authorisation for the press release about..."

I stopped.

Layla was sitting exactly where I’d left her, surrounded by files, but something had changed. The smile was gone. She was frozen, staring at a single piece of paper in her hand, with a pale face.

"Layla?" I took a step toward her. "What’s wrong?"

She didn’t look up immediately. When she did, her eyes were filled with confusion.

"You own The Pearl River Hotel?" she asked slowly, holding up what looked like a property deed.

My heart skipped a beat.

"I had no idea you owned it," she continued. "That’s where we met, isn’t it? The night with the room mix-up and..."

She stopped. Then, her eyes widened as if something just clicked into place.

Her voice dropped to a whisper, and I saw the exact moment understanding dawned on her face. "Axel, why do you own the hotel where we met?"

"Oh, shit..."