<h4>Chapter 69: Ambushed</h4>


    The fountain in the alcove kept trickling in the background, its steady sound filling the silence between Eliana and Henry. Neither of them spoke for a while—ten minutes, maybe more. Her head stayed against his shoulder, and his arm stayed firmly around her, like he was afraid to let go. Their shared past hung between them, fragile but unspoken. Eliana’s tears had finally stopped, though her eyes were still red and swollen. She looked lighter somehow, as if saying the words had taken some of the weight off her chest. Henry’s heartbeat felt strong and steady beneath it all, pounding with the feelings he’d buried for years, feelings that were finally pushing their way to the surface.


    Finally, Eliana stirred, lifting her head with a soft sigh. "Henry, I... I really have to go. My father’s visit is over, and it’s gettingte."


    Henry’s arm tightened briefly before releasing her, his warm eyes searching hers with a mix of reluctance and understanding. "Of course. But hey, if you need a ride, I could drop you off. My car’s just in the visitor lot—nothing fancy, but it’ll get you where you need to be."


    Eliana shook her head gently, a small, appreciative smile curving her full lips. "That’s sweet of you, but no. My boss had his secretary bring me here. As we speak, he’s probably waiting in the parking lot, tapping his foot impatiently." She joked.


    Henry’s eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise, his sharp features softening with admiration. "Whoa, your boss sounds like a stand-up guy. Rafael Vexley, right? The billionaire recluse everyone’s heard of but no one really knows? Sending his secretary to chauffeur you around—that’s not something you hear every day. He must really value you."


    Eliana’s brown eyes flickered with something unreadable, but she only smiled faintly and nodded, her long hair swaying slightly. She didn’t borate, the words caught in her throat like thorns. Instead, she stood, smoothing her modest dress, her natural elegance shining through despite the simplicity.


    Henry rose with her, his tall frame towering protectively. "Come on, at least let me walk you out. This hospital’s a maze—don’t want you getting lost on my watch."


    They strolled side by side through the sterile corridors, the fluorescent lights forming a soft glow on their faces. The air hummed with the distant beeps of machines and muffled conversations, but between them, afortable quiet reigned. As they emerged into the crisp evening air, the parking lot stretched out under the fading sunset, cars glinting like scattered jewels. Eliana spotted the sleek ck Mercedes idling nearby, its polished surface screaming luxury.


    They stopped a few feet from the car, the gravel crunching under their shoes. Eliana turned to him, her expressive eyes shimmering with gratitude. "Henry, thank you—for today, for listening, for... everything. It’s been a whirlwind, but you made it bearable."


    He grinned, that warm, reserved smile lighting up his handsome face. "It was my pleasure, Eliana. Seriously, being your listening ear? Best gig I’ve had in years. Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself out there."


    Before she could step away, Henry’s cheeks flushed a subtle pink, his ambition momentarily giving way to shyness. He rubbed the back of his neck, ncing down at his shoes. "Uh, before you go... could I get your number? You know, in case you need another shoulder—or just want to grab coffee sometime."


    Eliana’s smile widened, genuine and hopeful, chasing away the shadows of her pain. She pulled out her phone, her slender fingers tapping quickly. "Of course. Here you go."


    He entered the digits with care, as ifmitting a sacred code to memory. "Perfect. I’ll text you tonight—make sure you got home safe."


    With a final nod, Eliana turned and approached the car, her heart lighter yet heavier with possibilities. She slid into the backseat, the leather cool against her skin.


    James was already in the driver’s seat, his posture impable in his tailored suit. He nced back with a warm, professional smile. "Good evening, Miss Bet. All set?"


    "Yes, thank you, James."


    James slid into the driver’s seat and turned the key, the engine humming to life. He didn’t pull out right away, just rested his hands lightly on the wheel before ncing at Eliana.


    "If you don’t mind me asking," he said, curiosity soft but genuine, "who was that gentleman who walked you out? Looked like a friend."


    Eliana leaned back against the seat, her gaze drifting toward the hospital entrance still visible through the window. "Just an old friend from college. We bumped into each other unexpectedly."


    James nodded, epting her answer without pressing further. "Ah, small world." He paused a beat, his tone gentle. "And your visit with your father—everything wrapped up?"


    "Yes," she said quietly. "It was... good to see him."


    His smile reached his eyes, softening his expression. "I’m d to hear that." He tapped the wheel lightly, then looked over at her again. "Shall we head out now?"


    Eliana gave a small nod. "Please."


    Just as James shifted the car into drive, his phone buzzed insistently from the console. He frowned slightly, ncing at the screen. "My apologies, Miss Bet. I need to take this—won’t be a moment."


    He stepped out, closing the door softly, his voice muffled as he answered. Eliana watched him pace a few steps away, his free hand gesturing animatedly. After a couple of minutes, he returned, sliding back in with an apologetic bow of his head. "Sorry about that. Business never sleeps. Let’s get you home."


    The drive was uneventful, the city lights blurring into streaks as they sped along the highway. Eliana’s mind wandered, reying the day’s emotional rollercoaster—the catharsis with Henry, the worry for her father, the looming shadow of Rafael’s unpredictable moods.


    Back at the sprawling Vexley estate, the grand mansion loomed like a fortress under the twilight sky, its stone facade illuminated by strategically ced lights. As James parked and helped Eliana out, she noticed an unusual sight: Rafael Vexley himself, seated in his wheelchair by the ornate fountain in the front courtyard. He held a crystal ss of whisky, the amber liquid catching the light, while a few maids stood silently nearby, their postures rigid with deference. Eliana’s brow furrowed in confusion; in all her time here, she’d never seen him venture outside like this, exposed to the evening breeze that rustled the manicured hedges.


    Unbeknownst to her, Rafael had been a storm of conflict since their earlier confrontation. The way he’d snapped at her, his voiceced with undeserved venom—it gnawed at him. Waking from that nightmare, fragments of betrayal and pain from his past, he’dshed out, and now regret coiled in his chest like a serpent. Pacing the house in his mind hadn’t helped; the fresh air, even if it meant feigning his disabilities, was a desperate attempt to calm his frayed nerves while awaiting her return.


    Eliana and James approached quietly, their footsteps soft on the cobblestone path. Rafael, ever the master of deception, tilted his head as if sensing their presence through some invisible cue, his grey eyes fixed on nothingness.


    "James, is that you with Miss Bet?" His voice was smooth,manding, with a hint of warmth that surprised even him.


    "Yes, sir," James replied evenly.


    Rafael turned his face toward Eliana’s direction. "Did you see your father, Eliana? How is he?"


    She hesitated, her voice steady butced with caution. "Yes, I did. He’s... holding on."


    A small smile tugged at Rafael’s chiseled jawline, his dark wavy hair tousled by the wind. "Good. Go freshen up for dinner. It’ll be ready soon."


    Eliana didn’t argue, nodding even though he couldn’t "see" it. As she passed, Rafael’s sharp senses caught the faint red marks on her wrists—remnants of the zip ties from her recent kidnapping ordeal. His jaw tightened imperceptibly, a surge of protectiveness mixing with his guilt.


    Once she was out of earshot, Rafael gestured subtly. "James,e with me to the study."


    They moved inside, the wheelchair gliding silently across the marble floors. In the dimly lit study, lined with leather-bound books and glowing screens, Rafael dropped the act. He stood from the wheelchair with fluid grace, his athletic build uncoiling like a predator. James, privy to the secret, didn’t bat an eye.


    "First things first," Rafael said, his piercing eyes narrowing. "Have one of the maids tend to Eliana’s wristster. Those marks—make sure they’re treated properly. Ointment, bandages, whatever she needs."


    "Of course, sir," James replied.


    Rafael paced to the window, staring out at the darkening grounds. "And the information I requested? On her friend Sarai and Sarai’s sister Bianca?"


    James pulled a slim folder from his briefcase, handing it over. "All here, sir. Detailed backgrounds, connections, everything you need."


    Rafael flipped through it briefly, his cold, calcting mind absorbing the details. "Excellent. Thank you. Now, prepare a reservation at La Belle époque—the private room. For tomorrow evening. Eliana and I will be dining with Sarai and Bianca."


    James nodded, making a note on his tablet. "Consider it done."


    With that, Rafael straightened his crisp designer suit, sat back down on his wheelchair, and headed to the dining room, the scent of roasted herbs and fine wine already wafting through the air.


    Dinner was a tense affair, the long mahogany table set with crystal and silver under the chandelier’s soft glow. Eliana sat opposite Rafael, her focus glued to her te—tender filet mignon, asparagus drizzled in hondaise, a ss of untouched red wine. She ate mechanically, her mind racing with escape ns<i>. ’How can Papa and I slip away? Rafael’s grip is irond. If he discovers my link to Mirabel...’ </i>The thought sent chills down her spine, her emotional resilience cracking under the strain. She feared another outburst, his sharp tongue slicing through her like before.


    Rafael, meanwhile, toyed with his fork, his thoughts a whirlwind of remorse.<i> ’How do I apologize without revealing too much? She doesn’t deserve my anger—it’s my scars, not hers.’</i> The silence stretched, heavy and awkward, broken only by the clink of utensils.


    As the meal ended, Eliana pushed her chair back, her voice polite but distant. "Thank you for the dinner, Mr. Vexley."


    Before he could respond, she slipped away, heading down the dimly lit hall toward her room. Unseen, Rafael followed, his wheelchair silent on the shiny marble. As she turned the corner, he reached out with surprising speed, pulling her onto hisp. Eliana gasped, her body tensing in shock as he wheeled them swiftly toward his room.


    "Rafael! What are you doing? Let me go—what do you want from me?" Her voice rose, a mix of fear and frustration, her hands pushing against his broad chest.


    He ignored her protests until they were inside his opulent bedroom, the door clicking shut. The space was a blend of luxury and istion, a faint scent of his cologne lingering.


    Eliana squirmed, but Rafael’s arms encircled her, pulling her into a firm hug. His voice, usually cold and sarcastic, softened to a rumble. "Eliana, stop. I’m sorry—for how I acted this afternoon. I woke from a nightmare, fragments of my past haunting me, and I took it out on you. It wasn’t fair."


    She froze, her heart pounding against his. "You always do that, Rafael. Always take your anger out on me. Like I’m your punching bag."


    He pulled back slightly, his grey eyes fighting with every emotions in him not to lock on hers. "I know. And from now on, I won’t. I promise. I’ll cherish you better, treat you with the care you deserve."


    Eliana’s brows furrowed, confusion and vulnerability swirling in her brown depths. "Why? After all, I’m just your employee. Your caregiver. Why go through all this?"


    Rafael’s gaze darkened with unspoken desire. As she spoke, he cupped her soft face, his thumb tracing her pink lips. Without warning, he captured them in a kiss—deep, urgent, silencing her protests. His lips moved against hers with a hunger born of loneliness, his hands tangling in her curly ck hair, pulling her closer.


    Eliana’s world tilted, shock melting into a reluctant spark. The kiss deepened, emotional walls crumbling in the heat of the moment. In her jeans pocket, her phone vibrated and lit up—a text from Henry: <i>’Hey, Eliana. Got home safe? Have time to talk?’ </i>But she was lost, preupied with Rafael’s lips on hers, the world fading to nothing but this stolen intimacy.


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