<h4>Chapter 85: Unstoppable</h4>


    Eliana’s heartbeat thrashed wildly, a frantic bird battering itself against the bars of its cage. Across from her, Rafael’s thumb hovered over the glowing screen of his phone, a single motion away from unleashing consequences she couldn’t take back. His steel eyes had hardened into shards of ice, cold and merciless, and for a moment she swore the entire room bent to his will.


    Thevish surroundings — silk drapes spilling from the ceiling like waterfalls, the airced with the rich spice of his cologne, the faint creak of polished leather beneath them — all pressed in on her, making the space feel suddenly too small, too stifling.


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    Instinct overrode fear. She lurched forward, her hand catching his wrist in a desperate grip. Her slender fingers dug in, her warm brown skin stark against his pale, rigid forearm, a silent plea written in the contrast of their touch. Her vision wavered as tears pooled and shimmered, blurring the sharp lines of his jaw, softening the man who now felt like a stranger — one she was terrified of losing his temper, yet powerless to stop.


    "Rafael, please," she begged, her voice cracking like fragile ss under pressure. "Don’t do this. Don’t call James. Whatever you’re nning for Jason—it’s not worth it. He’s not worth dragging us into more darkness."


    Rafael paused, his gaze flicking to her face, the storm in his eyes softening just a fraction at the sight of her distress. He lowered the phone slightly, but his grip on it remained firm, unyielding. "Eliana," he said, his tone low and edged with restrained fury, "this isn’t your decision. Jason orchestrated your kidnapping. He put you in chains—literally. He endangered your life, and you expect me to sit back and do nothing?"


    She shook her head frantically, her long curly ck hair swaying like dark waves in a tempest. "I know what he did was unforgivable. But revenge? That’ll only make things worse. What if it backfires? What if it hurts you—or us? Please, Rafael, let’s think this through. We can go to the police, do it the right way."


    His lips curled into a bitter smile, sarcasm dripping from his words like venom. "The right way? You mean the way you handled it—by keeping it a secret from me? Trusting Sarai, of all people, over the man who’s supposed to protect you?" He pulled his hand free gently, not roughly, his touch lingering for a moment as if he couldn’t bear to hurt her even in his anger. "No, Eliana. Stay out of this. You’ve protected him long enough."


    Her shoulders slumped, fresh tears spilling down her soft face, tracing salty paths over her full lips. "I’m not protecting him. I’m protecting you—from bing like him. Jason Asher, with their schemes and shadows. You’re better than this."


    Rafael’s expression hardened again, but there was a flicker of pain in his piercing eyes, a vulnerability he rarely showed. Right now he couldn’t tell if she was truly trying to protect him or save Jason from his anger. He reached out, cupping her cheek with a tenderness that contradicted the storm raging inside him. "Go back to your room, Eliana," he murmured, his voice softening to a gentlemand, like a whisper of wind through leaves. "Rest. We’ll talk more in the morning. I... I don’t want to yell at you. I can’t bear to see you like this."


    She searched his face, hoping for a crack in his resolve, but found only the unyielding wall he’d built around his heart. With a shuddering breath, she nodded, her voice only a whisper. "Okay. But promise me you’ll think about it. Promise me you won’t do something you’ll regret."


    He didn’t respond, just watched her with those steel eyes that hid so much. Eliana turned away, her dinner dress swishing softly against her legs as she walked to the door, each step feeling like wading through msses. The click of thetch behind her echoed like a finality.


    The hallway stretched endlessly before her, the marble floors cold and unforgiving under her feet, mirroring the chill settling in her chest. Tears blurred her vision as she made her way to her room, the mansion’s grandeur mocking her turmoil—the crystal chandeliers twinkling like distant stars, the walls adorned with priceless art that seemed to watch her with indifferent eyes. She pushed open her door, the room enveloping her in itsvish embrace: the massive four-poster bed with its plushforter, the soft glow of bedsidemps creating warm shadows on the soft curtains.


    Eliana copsed onto the bed, the mattress sinking under her weight like a weing abyss. She buried her face in the pillows, the fabric muffling her sobs as waves of emotion crashed over her—betrayal from Sarai, guilt for her secrets, fear for Rafael’s soul. Her body shook with each heaving cry, her curly hair sying out like a dark halo around her. "Why did I trust her?" she whispered to the empty room, her voice raw and broken. "Why couldn’t I just tell him everything?"


    The minutes dragged, stretching into an endless haze of heartache. Time itself felt cruel, every second pulling her deeper into the wreckage of the night. Her mind refused to let go, reying each moment like broken ss cutting into her skin —her talk with Sarai, Rafael’s confrontation, the hollow sting of his disappointment.


    Loneliness pressed down on her chest, suffocating, heavier than the silence that filled the room. Her mind was full, her thoughts over flowing but she had no one to help unclog her mind.


    As if the universe sensed her istion, her phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with Henry’s name. Eliana lifted her head, wiping her tear-streaked cheeks with the back of her hand. She stared at the device, its insistent vibration a lifeline in the storm. Henry— the one with the warm eyes and kind heart, who had always been there as a listening ear. His advices were usually a steady anchor in her turbulent life. But could she burden him with this? Her thoughts swirled chaotically: no Sarai to confide in anymore, no one else who understood her past with Jason and now her present with Rafael. Maybe Henry could help sort through the tangled mess of her feelings, offer rity amid the chaos.


    With a trembling hand, she reached for the phone, hesitating onest moment before swiping to answer. "Hello?" she managed, her voice thick with unshed tears.


    Meanwhile, back in Rafael’s room, the door creaked open, admitting James with his usual efficient stride. James closed the door behind him and approached Rafael, who stood tall now, no longer confined to the wheelchair facade. The room’s atmosphere crackled with tension, the air heavy with the scent of Rafael’s lingering anger.


    "You called, sir?" James asked, his voice steady, eyes scanning Rafael’s face for clues.


    Rafael paced slowly, his athletic build forming long shadows across the Persian rug. He stopped, turning to James with a gaze like forged steel. "Bianca cornered me at dinner tonight. She spilled everything—imed Jason was the mastermind behind Eliana’s kidnapping. And the unbelievable part? Eliana knew. She overheard the kidnappers mentioning they were waiting for Jason’s orders. Sarai even confirmed it to her directly. But she chose to hide it from me."


    James’s brow furrowed, his expression a mix of concern and caution. "Sir, that’s a serious usation. Did you confront Miss Eliana about it?"


    Rafael nodded, his dark wavy hair falling slightly over his forehead as he ran a hand through it in frustration. "I asked her point-nk, just now. She couldn’t deny it. Her face said it all—the panic, the guilt. She admitted Sarai begged her to keep quiet, said it would only make things worse."


    James crossed his arms, his voice measured. "And you believe Bianca? She’s as maniptive as theye—perhaps even worse than Sarai. Twisting truths is her specialty."


    "I know," Rafael snapped, his sarcasm surfacing like a shield. "I’m not blind to her games—pun intended. But Eliana’s reaction confirmed it. She protected that scum, James. After everything he’s done."


    James shifted his weight, choosing his words carefully. "The team we assigned to track the kidnappers—they’re closing in. Leads are solidifying. Why not wait? Confirm Bianca isn’t feeding you lies to stir the pot?"


    Rafael’s eyes shed with impatience. "Wait? While Jason walks free, plotting God knows what next? No. I want you to bring him to Austin Miller within 24 hours. Let Austin’s men soften him up—properly—for daring toy a hand on Eliana. Then, he tells me the truth himself."


    James hesitated, his tone turning advisory, almost paternal. "Sir, if Jason vanishes suddenly, Bianca will suspect you immediately. She could go to the police, spin a tale that paints you as the viin. We can’t trust her—from the intel I gathered about her, she’s just as horrible as Sarai, if not more cunning."


    Rafael let out a dry, humorlessugh, the sound echoing bitterly in the room. "You think I’m stupid, James? I know the risks. But no one will even know he’s missing at first. And even if they do report it, the police won’t act for at least 48 hours on an adult missing person case—that’s the standard window before they take it seriously. By then, I’ll have wrung the confession from him, and I’ll deliver him to the authorities myself, gift-wrapped with evidence."


    James opened his mouth to protest further, but Rafael held up a hand, his voice brooking no argument. "Don’t argue with me on this. Just do it. Get it done."


    With a resigned nod, James straightened. "As you wish, sir. I’ll make the arrangements."


    Back in Eliana’s room, the phone felt heavy in her hand as Henry’s voice came through, warm and familiar,ced with that quiet ambition she remembered from their college days. "Eliana? Hey, it’s me. I was just thinking about you—wanted to check in after ourst chat. How’s everything?"


    The sound of his concern, so genuine and untainted by any web of deceit, shattered her fragileposure. A fresh sob escaped her lips, raw and uncontroble, her body curling inward on the bed as tears soaked theforter.


    "Eliana?" Henry’s voice shifted instantly, shock threading through it like a jolt of electricity. "What’s wrong? You sound... God, are you crying? Talk to me—what happened? Are you okay? I’m worried sick here."