All Chapters of After He Took It All: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Axel's POVI slammed the keys onto the marble counter of the secured suite's kitchen. The metallic clatter echoed in the sudden, deep silence of the room. It was over. The collapse was initiated, Linda was exposed, and the Geist cabal was running for cover. I had sacrificed my world to give Brielle her clean exit."Brielle!" I called out, my voice rough, needing to hear her answer. I needed to confirm she was safe, that she had gone to the extraction point I had secretly provided, the one meant only for her.Silence. Just the expensive, sterile quiet of the unused suite.I walked quickly to the bedroom. The bed was untouched. Her trench coat wasn't there, which was good, so she took the exit. But her backpack—the one with the red binder and the files—was sitting neatly on the desk, sealed shut. That wasn't good. She was supposed to have the leverage with her.I checked the small, connected office, then the bathroom. Nothing. Just the faint scent of her perfume, light and floral, cling

Axel's POVBack in the office, the air conditioning was way too loud. The lights were too bright, and the whole massive place felt empty now that she was gone forever.I was sitting at my desk, but I wasn't Axel, the CEO, anymore. I was just this weaponized version of grief, focused on nothing but the kill list.My grief wasn't for tears or smashing things up. It was pure, terrifying efficiency, instead.I was using the cold silence of my office as a launchpad for total, organized destruction. The first target was easy, obvious, and necessary.That target was Jason. He was the pathetic idiot who enabled Linda, and he was the one who gave the dangerous prototype chip to Sheila.He deserved to be atomized for all of it.I called my legal eagles, the best, meanest corporate lawyers I have, into a secure conference call immediately. Their faces looked blurry on the screen, which was fine.Their voices were sharp and ready, which was what mattered.“Jason is our priority,” I told them, com

Alexei's POVI swear, people are the worst sometimes. You spend seventy-two hours engineering a triple-tiered marzipan masterpiece—a perfect monument to edible structural integrity.And then some drunk finance bro thinks it’s funny to treat it like a volleyball. Honestly, the sheer lack of respect for technique in this city is why I only trust the precise measurements of butter and sugar, not people.I was back at the studio, pacing frantically around my very long-suffering assistant, Chloe. She was trying her best to clean the hideous pink frosting off my chef coat, which was a huge pain.Meanwhile, I was trying to explain the sheer, visceral horror of the tragedy I’d just witnessed.“It wasn't just cake, Chloe\! It was the final, perfect expression of the Ganache Renaissance\! And that brute just crushed it\! He totally ruined the theme of the whole evening\! I almost had an aneurysm right there in the bar\!” I threw my hands up dramatically in the air.“Yes, Chef. I understand. But

Axel's POVI woke up from a nightmare a few minutes before my alarm went off. It still felt so fresh in my head, a vivid and cruel playback. It felt like I was actually there, like I witnessed the accident myself. These nightmares have been haunting me for a while now.That is precisely why I’ve taken up the new habit of jogging in the mornings. It is a brutal, physical coping mechanism. It is my way to get the scary, devastating images out of my head by sheer exhaustion.I had to run in this ridiculously private park. It’s basically the only place where I could be sure no one would see me looking like absolute garbage. I needed that total silence, that alone time, just to feel the pain. I needed to focus it all into the cold, sharp edge of rage for the day’s vengeance agenda. It is my quiet time before I go back to dismantling global finance. Seriously, it's a necessary ritual.I was maybe halfway through my usual circuit, pushing the pace past the point of comfort. I was feeling tha

Axel's POVThe old warehouse pier on the East River was exactly where a desperate, cornered rat like Sophia would choose to meet. It was abandoned, covered in rust and the grime of a century of forgotten commerce. It smelled perpetually like low tide, damp concrete, and corruption. Perfect. It was a fitting theater for a transaction of such treachery.The location gave me the immediate advantage of total darkness and proximity to the water. The river felt fitting since I was about to drag the final, ugly truth out of her. I was waiting for her in an abandoned, secure parking garage beneath the pier. The air down here was thick with the scent of mold and old oil.I was alone, as promised in the message. I wasn't an idiot, however. Victor and a full perimeter team were watching from three blocks away, disguised as maintenance crews and dock workers. They had eyes everywhere. If she pulled any tricks, she wouldn't even hear the sirens before she was neutralized and taken into custody. Sh