<h4>Chapter 82: Whispers of Deception</h4>


    The tension at the table hung like a storm cloud about to break, heavy and electric. Unspoken words crackled in the air as Rafael sat in silence, processing Bianca’s carefully chosen words. His fingers drummed once, twice, against the white tablecloth—a rare tell, a slip betraying the fury coiling beneath his controlled exterior.


    But when he finally spoke, his voice was calm. Too calm. A de sheathed, but sharp enough to cut. "Jason, you say? And Eliana knows this?" His head tilted slightly, grey eyes hidden behind the practiced haze of feigned blindness. "Tell me more, Bianca. Why do you think we’ve let it slide?"


    Bianca leaned forward, closing the distance with a grace that was all calction. Her manicured nails traced the rim of her wine ss, the soft chime deliberate, a punctuation to her performance. The glow of the chandelier kissed her light brown skin, while the expensive perfume she wore—liliesced with something darker, more ambitious—thickened the air between them.


    She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, as if the crystal walls themselves might lean in to catch her words. "Oh, Mr. Rafael, it’s such a mess. Jason—he’s always been obsessed with Eliana ever since we were kids, you know. From what I’ve heard, he orchestrated the whole thing out of jealousy of your rtionship with Eliana. And Eliana..." She paused, letting hershes flutter just so. "Well, she’s too kind-hearted to press charges, I suppose. Or maybe—maybe she’s still in love with him. After all, they’ve known each other almost all their lives. But you?" Her lips curved, the faintest suggestion of a smile. "I thought you’d be the type to handle it swiftly. Protect what’s yours."


    Her words slid across the table like poisoned honey.


    Rafael’s eyes narrowed—not enough for most to notice, but Bianca wasn’t most. She would see it, the slight break in his mask. She was no fool. He could taste the game in every inflection, see it in the flicker of her green eyes: calcted innocence, a dangerous performance. She was stoking embers, feeding doubt, hoping to drive a wedge between him and Eliana.


    He knew her type. He’d built his empire by outmaneuvering maniptors like her, by turning traps into weapons. And yet, even knowing the script, even recognizing the theater, something inside him recoiled.


    Because the possibility she dangled—Eliana’s silence—felt like a de pressing against his ribs.


    If Eliana truly knew Jason had orchestrated the kidnapping... why hadn’t she told him? Was she shielding that worthless ex of hers from thew? Or worse—shielding Jason from him? As though Rafael were some uncontroble beast she had to protect others from.


    The thought tore at him, sharp and unrelenting. Her silence, whether born ofpassion or some lingering affection, cut deeper than betrayal. It was vulnerability, raw and unmasked. He, Rafael—the billionaire recluse who pretended at blindness and frailty to lure out greed and weakness in others—was suddenly the one exposed. It was a feeling he hadn’t endured since the second car crash that had scarred him, body and soul.


    He forced the ache down, burying it under iron control. His jaw set, the muscle ticking once. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned back, tall frame creating a shadow across the intimate table. When he finally spoke, his words were cold enough to still the air between them.


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    "How are you so sure, Bianca?" His voice was silk stretched over steel. "That Jason was the one who kidnapped Eliana? That she knows about it?" His head angled just slightly, the weight of his presence bearing down on her. "You’re speaking with a lot of certainty."


    Bianca’s expression remained the picture of innocent confusion, her sharp green eyes widening just enough to sell the act, her glossy ck hair catching the light as she tilted her head sympathetically. She ced a hand over her heart, as if the very question pained her, her voice trembling with feigned sincerity. "Mr. Rafael, I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t sure. Eliana herself told us—me and Sarai—when we were rescuing her. She was terrified, poor thing, tied up and gagged, but she heard the kidnappers whispering. They said it outright—that they were waiting on Jason for their next move." Bianca leaned in, the words sharper now, every syble meant to cut. "And Sarai... oh, Sarai sealed it. She confirmed it to Eliana right there, admitted she’d overheard Jasonying out his ns earlier. No rumors. No whispers. She heard him. He’s been obsessed with Eliana for weeks, ranting about how she belonged to him, especially after you came into the picture. Sarai acted fast, thank goodness—she couldn’t let her best friend suffer like that. We rushed to the kidnapping site and got her out before things got worse."


    Rafael’s mind raced, piecing together the fragments like a puzzle he’d thought he already solved. His earlier conversations with Eliana reyed in his head—her evasive answers when he’d pressed about the kidnappers, her insistence that she didn’t know who was behind it. Lies? Or omissions to shield him? The anger simmered, a bitter taste on his tongue, but he probed further, his voice steady despite the storm inside. "And why hasn’t Sarai pushed for justice? If she knew, if she overheard... why let Jason walk free?"


    Bianca sighed dramatically, her fingers twisting a napkin in herp as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. She leaned in even closer, her voice dropping to a hushed toneced with faux regret. "That’s the heartbreaking part, Mr. Rafael. Sarai would never want to see Jason behind bars. She and Eliana... they’re both in love with him, you know? It’s like a fog over their minds—they can’t see straight. Jason’s charming on the surface, but he’s poison. I’ve tried to tell Sarai a hundred times, but love makes fools of us all. Eliana’s the same; she’s too loyal, too forgiving. I’ve been hoping—praying, really—that she’d tell you the truth. You’re strong, decisive. You could get Jason out of their lives once and for all. If it were up to me, if I had the power to press charges... I’d have done it ages ago. Just to free Sarai from his grip, so she could think clearly for once. She’s my sister, after all. I hate seeing her tangled with a mess like Jason."


    Her face was so genuine, etched with lines of concern that crinkled the corners of her eyes, her full lips pressed into a sympathetic pout. Rafael studied her intently, searching for the crack in the facade—the telltale flicker of deceit. But Bianca was a master performer, her elegant features betraying nothing but earnest worry. It was infuriating; he couldn’t tell if she was faking it or if, in some twisted way, she believed her own lies. The uncertainty gnawed at him, fueling the anger he fought to contain. He straightened his crisp designer suit, the fabric whispering against his athletic build, and responded with measured calm, his sarcastic edge creeping back in like a shadow. "I’m not idle about this, Bianca. My investigations are ongoing. Rest assured, justice will be served—on my terms."


    Bianca’s jaw tightened subtly, a micro-expression that vanished as quickly as it appeared. She had expected fireworks—a explosive reaction, Rafael’s fury turning on Eliana like a weapon. Instead, he sat there,posed and unyielding, his piercing eyes (though she believed them sightless) giving nothing away. Was he so hopelessly in love with Eliana that he’d forgive her lies, her possible lingering feelings for Jason? The thought made her stomach twist with envy and frustration. She forced a smile, nodding as if in agreement, but inside, her mind whirred with new schemes. "Of course, Mr. Rafael. I trust you’ll handle it. For Eliana’s sake."


    Meanwhile, in the opulent restroom of the restaurant, mirrors gleaming like polished diamonds under golden lights, Eliana and Sarai stood side by side at the marble sinks. The air was thick with the scent ofvender soap and underlying tension, the distant hum of the dining room muffled by thick doors. Sarai adjusted her sleek bun in the reflection, her fierce beauty entuated by the sharp lines of her designer dress, which hugged her figure like a second skin. She turned to Eliana with a sharine smile, her voice dripping with false warmth as shethered her hands. "Oh, Eliana, you’re so lucky to have Rafael by your side now. He’s helping you with everything—your father’s health, a ce to stay, even this fancy dinner. It’s like a fairy tale, isn’t it? From rags to riches, all because of his... affection."


    Eliana’s warm brown skin flushed slightly, her expressive brown eyes narrowing as she met Sarai’s gaze in the mirror. Her long ck curls flowing over her slender shoulders, her designer dress sparkling in the light. She hade here for answers, not titudes, and the emotional wounds from their fractured friendship bubbled to the surface, raw and aching. Her voice, usually soft and resilient, cut short the small talks with quiet strength,ced with hurt. "Sarai, stop. Just stop with the niceties. Why did you betray our friendship? After everything we’ve been through—growing up together, sharing secrets, being like sisters—how could you turn on me like that?"


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