<h4>Chapter 76: It’s Nothing</h4>


    Eliana let out a long sigh, her chest heavy as memories surfaced. Sarai. Once her closest friend, the girl she trusted with everything—until betrayal cut their bond to pieces. And then there was Jason... his kidnapping attempt still lingered like a bruise in the back of her mind, the unanswered why gnawing at her whenever she let herself think too long. Why had he sunk so low?


    So much had been happening—her father’s troubles, Rafael’s confessions, the constant storm with her mother—that she’d shoved those questions into a dark corner. But now, with Rafael looking at her and the chance dangling in front of her, closure suddenly felt like a door she wanted to open.


    "You’re right," she said softly, more to herself than him. Her eyes hardened with determination as she looked up. "I do need to talk to Sarai. About all of it. Why she turned on me, why she betrayed what we had, and then—why she came back to save me. I need to hear it from her." She paused, drawing in a shaky breath. "Maybe this dinner... maybe it’s finally the time for that."


    "Exactly," Rafael said, his voice enthusiastic. "I’ll give you the grand tour of thepany—tech floors, real estate division, even my pharmabs if you’re interested. Then we’ll head to dinner together. Sound good?"


    She nodded, though her body protested. She had no real choice; his excitement was infectious, and refusing felt wrong. "Okay. I’lle."


    Rafael’s face lit up, bright and unguarded, like a child unwrapping presents on Christmas morning. He pressed quick, yful kisses to her cheeks before springing off the bed with a fluid grace that never failed to surprise her. Crossing the room, he grabbed his wheelchair from the corner—still keeping up the pretense for the staff—and slid into it with practiced ease.


    "Perfect," he said, wheeling closer, his smile so wide it softened the usualmand in his presence. "I’ll get myself together. Meet me at breakfast? Dressed for the day?"


    His joy was infectious, almost boyish, and with onest grin he wheeled out, pulling the door shut behind him.


    The silence he left behind settled heavy. Eliana sank deeper into the pillows, her chest rising and falling with a deep, tired sigh. "What am I even feeling?" Exhaustion clung to her bones, guilt pressed like a stone in her stomach. And then there was love—the kind that warmed her, the kind she’d never been given before, not even with Jason. But it tangled with shame. <i>’I don’t deserve it. Not while I’m keeping this secret from him.’ </i>


    Dragging herself up, she padded into the bathroom. Cold water sshed over her face, sharp against her skin. She looked into the mirror and barely recognized the reflection staring back: soft, heart-shaped features etched with worry, eyes that held too many truths unsaid.


    Back in the bedroom, she tugged open the closet. Her fingers trailed over the meager options until she pulled out the best she had—a simple blouse and skirt, modest, worn at the edges. She held them against herself with a twist of nerves<i>. ’I can’t embarrass him. Not in his world. Not at hispany.’ </i>


    The thought gnawed at her as she dressed. <i>’What if I don’t fit in? What if I don’t belong? Do I even deserve to stand beside him at all?’ </i>


    Meanwhile, in his suite, Rafael showered with a spring in his step, humming a tune under the hot spray. He dressed in a crisp designer suit, the fabric hugging his tall, athletic build perfectly. When the maids knocked, offering assistance, he waved them off. "No need today, thanks. And leave Eliana alone too—I’ve got this."


    In the hallway, the maids paused mid-step, trading quick, startled looks.


    "What’s gotten into Mr. Vexley?" whispered the older one, a plump woman with a severe bun and sharp eyes. "His voice—he sounded... happy. Like he’s just struck gold."


    The younger maid, pale and freckled, let out a quiet snicker. "Maybe it’s that Eliana girl. He seems fond of her. Though I don’t see why. She hardly does any real caregiving. And if he’s dressing himself now... what’s she even here for?"


    Their words lingered in the corridor like smoke as the morning unfolded.


    Downstairs, the dining room gleamed with wealth. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, scattering golden beams across the polished mahogany table. tters of fresh fruit, ky pastries, and carafes of steaming coffee filled the air with warm, inviting scents. James stood by the sideboard, as polished as ever in his immacte suit, his posture a portrait of loyalty and restraint.


    Eliana entered quietly, her footsteps small against the marble floor. She smoothed the modest blouse and skirt she’d chosen, but it didn’t change the fact that they looked worn, out of ce against the room’s grandeur.


    Rafael was mid-conversation with ra when his eyes lifted to her. For a heartbeat, his smile slipped—the tiniest crack in his perfectposure. His chest tightened. She deserves better than this, he thought, a pang cutting through the warmth of his earlier joy.


    But he didn’t say it aloud. Instead, his expression softened into that charming mask, and with a subtle lift of his chin, he beckoned James closer.


    "James," he said in a low voice, "get some nice clothes for Eliana. Something elegant. And for today—find her an outfit within thirty minutes. Make it perfect."


    James nodded crisply. "Of course, sir."


    Breakfast passed inpanionable chatter. Rafael teased Eliana gently about her sleepy eyes. "You sure you’re up for the office? I could carry you there if needed," he joked, winking.


    Sheughed weakly. "I’d like to see that—Mr. CEO hauling me over his shoulder."


    Afterwards, the clothes arrived quicker than he had expected, folded neatly in a box that looked very elegant. Insidey a sleek emerald dress that shimmered like liquid light, and beside it, a pair of glittering heels that caught the sun like scattered stars.


    Rafael had called her up himself. He held the box with a kind of reverence, as though it contained something rare and fragile.


    "Here," he said softly, extending it toward her. His tone wasn’tmanding like before—it was gentle, almost boyish. "I want you to look your best at thepany. Andter tonight, when we have dinner with Sarai and Bianca. You deserve to shine, Eliana."


    Her breath caught as her fingers brushed the fabric. The dress was smooth, expensive—far beyond anything she’d ever owned. Memories pricked at her chest. After her grandfather’s death, she’d sold every nice dress, bag, and pair of shoes he had ever gifted her, just to keep herself and her father alive. Survival had stripped her of luxury, piece by piece, until all that remained were worn blouses and patched skirts.


    Now, here she was, holding something so fine it felt unreal in her hands.


    "Rafael... this is beautiful. And the shoes—they sparkle like stars. I don’t even know how to thank you."


    He gave her that crooked, easy smile that disarmed her every time. "Just wear it," he said simply. Then, without giving her a chance to protest, he tugged her gently onto hisp, ying his role as if the wheelchair truly bound him. His lips met hers in a lingering kiss, soft at first, then deeper—like he wanted to burn the moment into both their memories.


    Her pulse skittered, her chest tightening with feelings tooplicated to name.


    Rafael pulled back, grinning like he’d just stolen something priceless. "Take your time. I’ll wait outside." And with that, he wheeled himself out, the door clicking shut behind him.


    Eliana clutched the dress to her chest, her heart drumming like a wild thing. Carefully, almost reverently, she slipped it on. It hugged her body in a way that felt unreal, smoothing over her curves, transforming her reflection into someone she barely recognized. The heels gave her height, power—confidence she didn’t know she could wear.


    But as she turned toward the door, her body betrayed her. A violent twist rolled through her stomach.


    "Oh no..." she whispered, stumbling. Her hand mped over her mouth as bile surged up her throat.


    She bolted to the bathroom, barely making it in time before retching up her breakfast. The sounds echoed in the porcin, harsh and humiliating. Her knees trembled against the tile, her body weak, her eyes watering.


    When the wave finally passed, she sagged against the cold wall, wiping her mouth with the back of her trembling hand.


    <i>’It’s just exhaustion,’ </i>she told herself. <i>’You haven’t been sleeping. You’re thinking too much. It’s nothing. Nothing.’ </i>


    Dragging herself upright, she rinsed out her mouth, sshed cold water over her mmy face, and forced her shaking hands to smooth her hair. In the mirror, her reflection stared back—elegant in the emerald dress, but pale, hollow-eyed. A woman dressed in borrowed confidence.


    Squaring her shoulders, she drew a deep breath, stered on a fragileposure, and stepped out. Ready—or as ready as she could be—to meet Rafael.


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