CHAPTER 143: THE VIOLENT MAN

~HELENA~

I ended Axel’s call with a nod Jason and Ryan couldn’t see, pocketing my phone as we trudged home from the grocery store, bags in hand.

"You okay, Hel?" Jason asked. He was fourteen and too perceptive for his own good, swinging the bag of milk like a pendulum.

Ryan kicked a pebble ahead of us. "Yeah, you look weird."

"I’m fine," I said, forcing a smile. "Boss just needs me in the office early tomorrow."

I wondered how he even got my number. HR, probably. I’d given it when I started working for Layla, but I never expected the big boss himself to call.

Jason shrugged, launching into a rant about some bullies at school who’d been bothering his friend. Ryan chimed in with stories about his latest video game wins, talking a mile a minute about levels and bosses and things I barely understood.

"Can we get pizza this weekend?" Ryan asked, hopping over a crack in the sidewalk.

"Maybe. If I get my paycheck on time."

"You always say maybe," he complained.

"And sometimes maybe turns into yes. Have some faith, kid."

"Or we can ask big brother Henry."

I immediately shook my head. "No, you won’t... fine, I’ll get us pizza this weekend, but only if you all do your chores without complaints."

"Deal," they both chorused.

We took a shortcut through the park to save time on our walk, as the sky turned a soft purple with dusk. The air had that fresh, grassy smell mixed with a coolness that made everything feel calm and relaxing.

Then chaos shattered everything.

A teen, maybe eighteen, bolted past us like his life depended on it. He’d just snatched a wallet from a tall guy in a leather jacket near the fountain. The man took off after him, looking angry.

Within seconds, he tackled the kid hard onto the grass. His fists flew, connecting with sickening thuds against the young guy’s face, and spattering blood on the grass.

I yanked my brothers behind me, covering their eyes with my hands even as they tried to peek through my fingers. "Hey! Stop!" I yelled. "He’s down... that’s enough!"

The man stood, breathing heavy, his face partially shadowed. He wiped his knuckles on his jeans, leaving dark streaks. The kid on the ground wasn’t moving much, just groaning.

The man walked straight toward us, fixing his cold eyes on me. "Mind your business, young lady."

"Or what? You’ll beat me too?" I snapped, catching the strong smell of whiskey on his breath as he got closer. "Real tough, drunk and pounding a kid half your size."

He smirked, stepping close enough that I could see a scar cutting through his jaw. "Kid’s a thief. You wanna join him on the ground?"

"Back off," I said, my heart racing but keeping my voice steady for my brothers. I could feel Jason tensing behind me, probably ready to do something stupid and heroic. "Come on, guys. We’re leaving."

I pulled them away quickly, his dark laugh trailing us like smoke. Asshole.

"Helena, what was that?" Jason asked when we were safely out of the park.

"Just some drunk idiot. Forget about it."

"But that kid..."

"I said forget it. We’re not getting involved."

Ryan was quiet the rest of the way home, which worried me more than Jason’s questions.

When we got home, we unloaded the groceries: cereal, apples, pasta, all the essentials. I set some water to boil and began stirring the sauce for dinner, but I couldn’t stop thinking about that guy in the park.

Some men are just like that: violent, always drinking, and acting like they own the world. ANd honestly, it made me sick.

My phone rang while I was draining pasta. Henry.

"How’s my favourite sister?" my older brother asked.

"Your only sister," I corrected, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder. "And I’m doing great. How was your day?"

"Exhausting but good. The boys giving you trouble?"

"No more than usual. They’re good kids."

"You’re doing an amazing job with them, Hel. Mom would be proud."

My throat tightened. "Thanks, Hen."

We talked for another twenty minutes about nothing important: his work, my work, whether Jason needed new shoes. Normal stuff that made everything feel manageable.

After dinner, I tucked the boys into bed. Jason first, with a reminder to finish his homework in the morning. Then Ryan, who made me promise to wake him up early so he could play his game before school.

"Love you, Hel," he mumbled, already half asleep.

"Love you too, buddy."

Sleep came uneasily that night. I kept seeing that man’s cold eyes, kept hearing that dark laugh. Something about him had unsettled me deep in my bones, beyond just the violence.

Morning came too early. I dragged myself out of bed at six, made eggs for the boys, and got them ready for school. My phone buzzed while I was packing their lunches.

Big Boss Axel: Need you to set up a surprise in Layla’s office. Flowers, a note, and breakfast from her favourite spot. Details attached.

I opened the attachment. He’d included everything: which florist to call, what restaurant to order from, even what the note should say. Thorough.

Another text came through:

Champagne’s in my office. Grab it when you get there.

"Romantic," I muttered, typing back a quick confirmation.

I left the apartment early, kissing the boys goodbye and reminding them to lock up when they left for school. The cab drive to the office was smooth, with barely any traffic.

The building was just starting to stir when I arrived, a few early birds already at their desks. I headed straight to Layla’s office with the flowers I’d picked up from the florist, gorgeous red roses that probably cost more than my weekly grocery budget.

I arranged them on her desk, set out the croissants and coffee from her favourite café, and placed the card Boss Axel had written prominently on top. The whole setup looked like something out of a romance movie.

My phone buzzed again.

Big Boss Axel:Don’t forget the champagne.

Right. I headed down the hall to his office, my sneakers squeaking on the polished floor.

I pushed the door open without knocking; it was early, and I didn’t think anyone would be there.

But to my surprise, the drunk, violent guy from yesterday was leaning against the desk, his shirt unbuttoned a few buttons and tucked into his nicely pressed pants.

He looked different in the morning light... more business-like, more dangerous somehow, but with a sense of purpose.

Shock hit me like ice water. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

His eyes narrowed when he recognised me, and a hint of dark amusement lit up his face. A slow grin pulled at his lip, making that scar more prominent. "Well, well," he drawled. "Small world."

My heart hammered against my ribs. This man, this violent drunk who’d beaten a kid bloody in the park, was standing in my boss’s office like he belonged there.

"You need to leave," I said, trying to sound authoritative. "Before I call security."

"Call them," he said, that smirk still playing at his mouth. "I’m sure they’d love to hear why you’re in someone else’s office."

"I work here. I have every right to be here. You, on the other hand..."

"Also went through the front desk and found myself here," he interrupted.

Mr O’Brien must not find this annoying entity in his office when he arrives. My hand moved toward my pocket for my phone, but then I saw the intercom system on the desk behind him.

I lunged for it, my fingers connecting with the button before he could stop me.

"Security," I said clearly into the speaker. "I need security in Mr O’Brien’s office immediately."