<h4>Chapter 43: Unbelievable Events</h4>


    The rose garden at the Vexley estate was a ce that usually felt like something out of a painting—sunlight spilling through the leaves, petals spilling their perfume into the air, and the quiet hum of bees driftingzily from bloom to bloom. But all of that beauty felt miles away when Jason Asher’s mouth crashed onto hers.


    It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t wee. His lips clung with a desperate, almost frantic im, tasting faintly of salt and that sharp, expensive cologne that used to make her chest flutter. Now, it only made her stomach twist.


    Eliana froze, too stunned to even breathe. Her arm—still sore and weak—throbbed under the sudden press of him, and something deep inside her tried to fold in on itself, whispering the old instinct to stay still, to submit.


    Then—like a dam finally bursting—Eliana’s senses came rushing back in a flood. Her free hand shot forward, mming against Jason’s chest with every ounce of anger she’d been storing for years. She tore herself away, brown eyes lit with a heat that could have set the whole rose garden alight.


    Before he could say a word, her palm connected with his cheek in a sharp, ringing crack. The sound sliced through the still air, startling the bees from the roses.


    Jason stumbled back, one hand flying to his face. Shock widened his hazel eyes, as if he couldn’t quite process the fact that someone like Eliana had just hit someone like him. "Eliana... what the hell? You pped me?"


    Her voice was low, but it carried like steel. "Never," she said, the word almost a growl. "Never in your life should you put your mouth on me again, Jason. Do you hear me?" Her hands were shaking, but her stare didn’t waver. "You lost that right—forever."


    Jason’s face crumpled, his charismatic mask cracking to reveal a glimpse of genuine heartbreak, or at least the closest thing his narcissistic heart could muster. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, his gym-toned shoulders slumping as he stared at her, voice cracking with a mix of pain and confusion. "What’s wrong with you, Eliana? Why have you changed so much? We were good together—perfect, even. I know I messed up, but this... this isn’t you. You’re not this angry, this cold."


    Eliana couldn’t believe the words tumbling from his lips. Her expressive eyes narrowed, disbelief twisting her soft, heart-shaped face into a mask of incredulity. How dare he? After cheating with their best friend, after storming in without a care for her pain, he had the audacity to y the victim? Laughter bubbled up, bitter and hollow, but it died in her throat, reced by a surge of white-hot anger that made her slender frame tremble. "What’s wrong with me? Are you serious, Jason? You’ve been sleeping with Sarai behind my back, lying to my face for God knows how long, and you have the nerve to ask why I’ve changed? Get out! Leave right now—before I p you again!"


    Jason’s eyes shed with his own spark of anger, the spoiled heir resurfacing as he straightened, his strong jaw clenching. "You think you can just toss me aside like this, Eliana? After everything? I’m not letting you leave me—not like that. I’ll be back. We’ll talk when you’ve cooled off." With a final re, he turned on his heel, his stylish casual wear rustling as he stormed off the estate grounds, leaving a trail of crushed rose petals in his wake.


    Eliana stood there, chest heaving, her hair whipping in the breeze as she watched him go. She couldn’t believe it—couldn’t fathom the depths of his shamelessness. How had she ever loved someone so blind to his own ws, so wrapped up in his ego that he saw her boundaries as mere suggestions? Tears pricked at her eyes, but she blinked them away, her quiet strength hardening into resolve. No more. She turned back toward the mansion, her worn-out slippers crunching on the gravel path, determined to tie up onest loose end before she could breathe freely again.


    Inside the grand mansion, with its polished marble floors and towering ceilings that whispered of old money and hidden secrets, Eliana made her way to Rafael’s study. Her heart pounded, a mix of lingering fury from the garden and the sting of this morning’s humiliation when he’d offered her money like she was a deal to be closed. Still, she owed him an apology for Jason barging in. Just that, then she was gone. Thest thing she wanted was to be in the same room as him. She knocked softly on the heavy oak door, her slung arm aching with the motion.


    "Come in," Rafael’s voice called from within, calm andposed, like a man reading the news, rather than nursing a storm inside.


    Eliana pushed the door open, stepping into the dimly lit room where bookshelves loomed like silent guardians and the scent of aged leather mingled with the faint metallic tang of shattered electronics. Her gaze immediately fell on the broken tablet scattered in pieces against the wall, ss shards glinting like fallen stars on the Persian rug. What had happened here? She nced at Rafael, seated in his wheelchair by the desk, his chiseled jaw set, his dark wavy hair slightly tousled, those steel-grey eyes staring nkly ahead. But she bit her tongue; she wasn’t here to pry or linger. She was here to apologize and leave. That’s it. She didn’t want to see him, not after he’d treated her like dirt.


    She drew in a breath to speak, but Rafael’s voice sliced through the room before she could get a word out—low, cold, and without even turning to face her, as if he could smell her presence like a predator.


    "So, you came back. Are you really that low, Eliana? Two men at once? I didn’t take you for the type."


    The words hit her like a punch to the ribs, knocking the air from her lungs. She froze, heat rushing to her face, lips parting in stunned disbelief. After everything, he had the nerve—? Her eyes locked on him, wide at first, but the hurt quickly burned away, leaving nothing but ice.


    "How dare you? What gives you the right—the moral high ground—to say something like that to me, Rafael? Just because you’re rich, because you own this mansion and half the city, doesn’t mean you get to treat me like trash. I’m done. I’m leaving your house right now. If you want to send me to jail or... or kill my father, then go ahead. But I’m so done with your bullshit!"


    With that, she spun on her heel, storming out of the study, the door mming behind her like a final punctuation to her shattered hopes in his humanity. Her heart raced, tears blurring her vision as she hurried down the hallway, but beneath the pain, a spark of pride flickered—she’d chosen herself, finally.


    Back in the study, Rafael Vexley sat motionless, his piercing grey eyes staring at the door she’d just mmed. Guilt pricked at his heart like a thousand needles, sharp and unrelenting. He’dshed out from that unjustified anger, the jealousy that burned when he’d seen her on the CCTV, locked in Jason’s embrace. And now? He’d pushed her to the brink, to choosing jail or her father’s death over staying. Her father—the man she loved with a fierce, protective devotion that Rafael had glimpsed in her actions and worried nces. He hadn’t even apologized for this morning, for turning their drunken mistake into a cheap payout. What a fool he’d been.


    "Damn it, Rafael," he muttered to himself, his deep voiceced with self-scorn, "you’re too hot-headed for your own good." Gripping the wheels of his chair, he propelled himself out of the study, the mansion’s corridors blurring as he raced toward her room, determination etching his handsome features.


    Meanwhile, in the sanctuary of her bedroom, Eliana yanked her suitcase from the closet, her movements frantic despite the sling hampering her right arm. Thank God she hadn’t unpacked yet; it made this easier, quicker. She was done—done with the betrayals, the maniptions, the emotional whish. Done with everyone. Tugging at her sweater with her good hand, she struggled to change, wincing as fabric caught on the sling, her mind a whirlwind of anger and sorrow. Last night shed in fragments:ughter, warmth, but it was all still a blur and besides it ended in shame.


    A knock echoed at the door—firm, insistent. She knew it must be Rafael. She ignored it, gritting her teeth as she finally shrugged into a fresh blouse. Meanwhile at the other side of the door, the knocks grew louder, drawing curious nces from the maids who hovered in the hallway, pretending to dust but stealing peeks like spectators at a drama.


    Once dressed, Eliana grabbed her suitcase, wheeling it toward the door with defiant resolve. She flung it open, ready to push past him, but in a blur of motion, Rafael’s strong hand shot out, grasping her waist and pulling her onto hisp. Eliana gasped, shock rippling through her as the wheelchair rolled backwards into the room, Rafael shoving the suitcase aside with his chair before mming the door shut and blocking it with his chair as well.


    "What—?" Eliana yelped, scrambling off hisp in a flurry of limbs, her heart pounding wildly. A fleeting memory surfaced—sitting on hispst night, giggling amidst the haze of whatever had led to their intimacy—but it vanished as quickly as it came. She shook her head, curls bouncing, and fixed him with a re. "What are you doing, Rafael? What do you want from me now?"


    Rafael, maintaining his pretense of blindness, tilted his head slightly, his grey eyes unfocused but his voice softening with rare vulnerability. "I’m sorry, Eliana. For what I said just now in the study... and for what I said this morning. All of it. I was wrong—cruel, even. You didn’t deserve that."


    Eliana’s jaw dropped, her expressive eyes widening in total shock, as if the world had tilted on its axis. A man like Rafael Vexley—cold, calcting billionaire—apologizing? She couldn’t believe her ears, her full lips parting in astonishment as she searched his face for deceit. But there was none; only sincerity etched in the lines of his chiseled jaw.


    He reached out tentatively, his long fingers "searching" the air before finding her hand, enveloping it in his warm, firm grip. The contact sent a jolt through her, unexpected and electric. "I mean it," he continued, his deep voiceced with regret, "I’m really sorry. You’ve been nothing but patient, kind, even when I didn’t deserve it. And I’ve hurt you—deeply. I’ll try topensate for all of it, make it right somehow. Please... give me a chance to show you."


    Eliana stood there, frozen, her eyes locked on his, the room thick with unspoken emotions. Her heart raced, a whirlwind of confusion, anger, and something dangerously close to hope swirling within her. How could this be real?