CHAPTER 173: THE MIDDLE MAN

LAYLA’S POV

I walked into Axel’s office, and the high from the passionate lobby kiss and steamy morning bath instantly evaporated.

The air in the room was ice-cold.

Axel sat behind his desk, looking all serious. His expression was carved from stone, the same face he wore when closing multimillion-dollar deals or firing executives who’d betrayed him.

Tye lounged in one of the leather armchairs, looking almost bored, which was somehow more terrifying than if he’d looked angry. His fingers drummed a lazy rhythm on the armrest, but his eyes were sharp.

In the chair opposite the desk, what I mentally called the "hot seat", sat a young man in a suit that was too expensive for someone his age. Mid-twenties, maybe. His tie was slightly askew, his forehead gleaming with sweat.

He kept glancing between Axel and Tye, carefully avoiding eye contact with the latter.

I took my place beside Axel, presenting a united front. His hand briefly touched mine under the desk before returning to rest on the armrest.

Axel started in a dangerously calm voice. "Thank you for coming in, Mr. Allen."

The young man swallowed hard. "Of course, Mr. O’Brien. Mr. Brennan said you needed help understanding some documents?"

"My associate," Axel gestured toward Tye without looking at him, "tells me you’re a man who understands ’alternative’ financial opportunities."

Allen’s face went pale. "I-I don’t know what you mean, Mr. O’Brien."

"You should."

"I’m just a junior associate at B&N’s firm. I don’t understand why I’m here. Mr. Brennan specifically said you needed my help with document review."

Tye spoke without even looking at him. "Fuck that. That was just a ploy to get you here, kid. Now that you’re sitting in that chair, we can discuss the two hundred and fifty thousand dollars that was deposited into your offshore account two months ago."

"I don’t..."

Tye didn’t let him finish. "The one in the Cayman Islands. The one you used for the down payment on that new condo in downtown. The one Charles Watson funded."

Allen broke into a cold sweat, beads forming on his upper lip. "That was a family inheritance! You can’t prove..."

"We already did," Tye interrupted. "Wire transfer, routed through three shell companies, but the source traces back to one of Watson’s accounts. We have the paper trail."

This was my cue.

I leaned forward, keeping my voice soft. "He played you, didn’t he? Charles Watson."

Allen looked at me, confused by the sudden shift in tone.

I continued, "He has a way of making you feel important, of promising you the world. I’ve seen it before. He finds that one thing you want, maybe money, status, a new condo, and he dangles it just out of reach until you’re willing to do anything to grab it."

I paused.

"He needed our real financials to frame us for stealing from the Sinaloa cartel. He needed someone on the inside, someone with access to confidential documents. He needed a mole. And you were it."

Allen’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. His hands gripped the armrests of his chair, knuckles white.

"I... I didn’t know what he was using them for. I swear."

"But you knew it was wrong," I said gently. "You knew stealing confidential client files violated every ethical standard of your profession."

"He said it was just for leverage. Business leverage. He said Eclipse Beauty destroyed his daughter, and he needed ammunition to protect her in court."

Axel applied the pressure. "Right now, Mr. Allen, you’re guilty of corporate espionage, breach of fiduciary duty, and conspiracy to commit fraud. We could have you disbarred and in prison by the end of the week. Your career, your new condo, your entire future would be gone."

Allen’s breathing quickened, panic setting in.

Tye added the real threat. "But that’s actually the good option, the best in fact if you ask me."

"W-What d-do you mean?"

"The people Charles framed, the Sinaloa cartel, they’re not as nice as we are. They don’t care who leaked the files or why. They just know this law firm," he gestured around the office, "is where the leak started. You’re a loose end, Allen. And the cartel hates loose ends. They have a two-week deadline to ’collect’ their money. When they don’t get it, they start eliminating problems, starting with the source."

Allen’s face drained of all colour. "Oh God. Oh God, I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know it was for them! He just said it was for a rival company, to get leverage in negotiations. I thought..."

"You thought you’d make a quick quarter million and no one would ever find out," Axel finished coldly. "But Charles Watson doesn’t leave loose ends either. The moment he doesn’t need you anymore, you become a liability."

"We need proof," I added. "Hard proof that Charles Watson paid you for those files."

Allen’s hands trembled. "I destroyed the burner phone he used to contact me. I’m not stupid!"

Tye let out a short, harsh laugh. "Actually, you are. Because if Charles decides to fuck you over, what’s your proof that he paid you? Nothing. You destroyed the only evidence that could protect you."

He turned to face me and Axel. "He’s stupid. But the money trail isn’t. Who did you send the files to? It wasn’t Charles directly, was it? He’s too smart for that."

Allen hesitated, terrified. His eyes darted between us like a cornered animal.

I connected the dots, remembering something from Cassandra’s case. "Was it J. Downson? The same man Cassandra used for the fake contamination reports?"

Allen’s eyes widened in pure shock. "How... how did you know?"

Bingo.

Axel and Tye shared a look. A single glance that communicated everything; they’d found their target. J. Downson was the link between Cassandra’s sabotage and Charles’s cartel-level frame-up. The middleman who’d been coordinating both operations.

"J. Downson has been Watson’s fixer for years," Tye said, his tone matter-of-fact now. "He handles the dirty work, and keeps things at arm’s length. He’s smart enough to cover his tracks, but not smart enough to avoid making patterns."

Axel leaned back in his chair. "Mr. Allen, your day just got significantly worse. You’re not just going to give us a statement. You’re going to help us set a trap for J. Downson. And you’re going to do it right now."

"I can’t... he’ll kill me!"

"The cartel will kill you if you don’t," Tye said flatly. "At least we’re offering you a way out. Cooperate fully, help us nail Downson and Watson, and we’ll keep you alive. We’ll even consider not pressing charges."

"Consider?" Allen’s voice cracked.

"Depend on how helpful you are," Axel said. "Right now, you’re looking at prison time and a death sentence from the cartel. Help us, and maybe, just maybe, you walk away with just your career destroyed instead of your life."

Allen’s shoulders slumped in defeat. "What do you need me to do?"

I pulled out my phone and opened the voice recorder app. "First, you’re going to tell us everything. Every conversation with Charles, every file you stole, every interaction you’ve had. And then..."

"Then you’re going to call Downson," Tye finished. "Tell him there’s a problem. Tell him Eclipse Beauty is sniffing around, asking questions about the offshore accounts. Tell him Charles needs to meet with him immediately to clean up the mess."

"He won’t fall for that. He’s too careful."

"He will if you sell it right," Axel said. "You’re a lawyer, convince him. Because if you don’t, we hand everything we have to both the FBI and the Sinaloa. Let them fight over who gets to you first."

Allen’s hands shook as he reached for his phone. "Okay. Okay, I’ll do it. Just... just promise you’ll protect me."

"We’ll do our best," I said, though I wasn’t sure how much that promise was worth. "But you need to be completely honest with us. No more lies. No more games. Understood?"

"Understood."

For the next hour, Allen talked. He detailed every conversation with Charles, every file he’d stolen from Brennan, and every payment he’d received through the shell companies.

He explained how J. Downson had been the go-between, never meeting in person, always using encrypted messaging apps and burner phones.

Tye recorded everything on multiple devices, ensuring we had backups.

When Allen finished, he looked ten years older, hollow-eyed and broken.

"Now the call," Axel said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Allen dialed with shaking hands, putting the phone on speaker.

It rang three times before a clipped voice answered. "Who is this?"

"It’s Allen. We have a problem."

"What kind of problem?"

"Eclipse Beauty. They’re asking questions about the offshore accounts. About the files I provided. I think they know."

A long pause. "How much do they know?"

"Enough to be dangerous. Charles needs to meet with you tonight to figure out how to handle this before it explodes."

"Charles handles his own messes. I’m just the messenger."

"Not this time. This mess could trace back to you too. They’re looking at everyone connected to the Watson files. You’re exposed."

Another pause, longer this time. "Where?"

"The usual spot. Midnight."

"Fine. But if this is a setup, Allen, you’re the first one I come for."

The line went dead.

Allen looked like he might vomit. "He’s going to know. He’s going to figure it out."

"Let us worry about that," Tye said, standing. "You just show up tonight and played your part. Wear a wire, act natural, and we’ll handle the rest."

"A wire? You want me to wear a wire to meet with a man who’s probably killed people?"

"Yes," Axel said simply. "Unless you’d prefer prison and the cartel?"

Allen slumped in defeat again. "No. No, I’ll do it."

Tye clapped as he stood up. "Perfect."