<h4>Chapter 90: Another Escape</h4>


    Mirabel Vexley stormed out of Rafael’svish bedroom like a thunderp breaking over marble. Every strike of her heels ricocheted down the hallway—sharp, unforgiving, a sound that made even the chandeliers seem to tremble. Rage carved itself into her features, her jaw tight, her eyes burning. The silk blouse hugging her figure clung as if it, too, wanted to escape her fury.


    She wasn’t alone. Celina and Caleb shadowed her, their presence less support and more extension of her venom. Celina tossed her hair with the kind of dramatics only a spoiled daughter could perfect, lips twisting into a sneer that promised cruelty. The hem of her designer skirt swished with each step, like a warning before the strike. Caleb, ever the vulture, kept his pace deliberately unhurried, his slicked-back hair catching the chandelier’s glow. His chuckle was low, dark, predatory—like he could already taste the chaos waiting to unfold.


    Behind them, a small army of maids scurried in fear, their expressions tight and anxious. Mirabel didn’t slow; she turned on them with the kind of authority that left no room for hesitation.


    "Spread out!" Her voice cracked through the hall, brittle and cutting. "Every room, every closet, every shadow in this cursed mansion. That little caregiver—Eliana—she’s here. Don’t think I don’t know it."


    The maids exchanged nervous nces but obeyed, peeling off in different directions.


    Mirabel’s hands curled into fists at her sides, her fury sharpening with every word. "Rafael thinks he can protect his little pet project. I hear she didn’t go out with him this morning. If he’s hiding Victor from me, I’ll make her pay for it." Her voice dropped into a growl, venom dripping from every syble. "Drag her out if you have to. I want her face in the light when she realizes what crossing me costs."


    Celina flipped her hair dramatically, her voice dripping with venom. "Oh, this is gonna be epic, Mom. I’ve been dying to put that nobody in her ce. Thinks she can just waltz in here and be somebody important? Oh please."


    Caleb cracked his knuckles, his smug grin widening. "Yeah, let’s see how Rafael likes being on the receiving end for once. That gold-digger caregiver probably thinks she’s safe in his bed. Not anymore."


    The maids scattered like frightened birds, their whispers echoing faintly down the grand hallways. Mirabel paused at the top of the sweeping staircase, her pearls clinking as she gripped the banister. "Remember, no mercy. Rafael’s weakness is her—exploit it."


    Inside the bathroom, Eliana’s heart pounded like a trapped animal against her ribs. She had locked the door, but the thin barrier felt like paper against the storm brewing outside. Curled in the corner, her knees drawn to her chest, she clutched her bathrobe tighter, the soft terrycloth a poor shield against the chill of terror. Tears stung her eyes as memories flooded her—Mirabel’s abandonment, the years of poverty with her father, the emotional scars that never fully healed. And now, this: her own mother hunting her like prey.


    The voices faded down the hall, and Eliana dared to move. She cracked the bathroom door open, peeking into the empty bedroom. The massive four-poster bed loomed like a silent witness, the silk sheets still rumpled from where she and Rafael had tangled in passion the night before. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she darted out, her bare feet silent on the plush carpet. She snatched her phone from under the pillow, its screen lighting up with a soft glow that felt like a lifeline in the dim room.


    Back in the bathroom, she mmed the door shut and locked it again, sliding down against the cool tile wall. Her fingers trembled as she scrolled to Rafael’s number. "Come on... pick up," she breathed, the words trembling out like a prayer she wasn’t sure anyone would answer. The phone rang once, twice—then dropped into voicemail.


    Her stomach twisted. Doubt mmed into her chest like a breaker against the rocks, stealing her breath. If she tried again, he might rush back, guns zing—metaphorically or not. A confrontation with Mirabel could explode into chaos. What if, in the heat of it all, Mirabel’s eyes widened in recognition? "Eliana is... my daughter?" The truth would shatter everything. Rafael, with his deep-seated trust issues, might see her secrecy as betrayal. He could turn on her, his love twisting into something lethal. No, she couldn’t risk that. Living under this roof meant constant danger now—Mirabel’s shadow loomed toorge, too vicious.


    Swallowing hard, Eliana swiped to another contact: Henry Jackson with the warm eyes and unspoken affections. He was safe, reliable. The phone rang once, twice, and then his voice answered,ced with surprise. "Eliana? Hey, it’s early—everything okay?"


    "Henry," she whispered urgently, cupping her hand over the mouthpiece to muffle her words. The mansion’s walls seemed to have ears, and Mirabel’s screeching echoed faintly from downstairs. "I... I need help. It’s bad. Rafael’s stepmother—My mom—she’s here with her kids, storming the house. They’re looking for me. She thinks Rafael did something to her brother Victor, and she’s taking it out on me. They’re searching everywhere, Henry. I heard them—they called me a gold-digger, a toy. I’m hiding in the bathroom, but they could find me any second."


    Henry’s voice shifted instantly from casual to panicked, his breathing audible over the line. "What? Eliana, oh God—are you serious? Your own mother? This is so crazy. Okay, listen to me: you need to get out of there. Now. Find a back door, a window, anything. I’m jumping in my car right this second. I’ll pick you up—where can I meet you? Just get out with your life, don’t go packing anything. Leave it all behind."


    Eliana’s eyes darted around the bathroom, the luxurious fixtures mocking her vulnerability. "I... I don’t know. The estate’s huge, guards everywhere. But yeah, I’ll find a way. Just hurry, please."


    <fn3f64> Original content can be found at ?ovelFind</fn3f64>


    "Should I call the police?" Henry asked, his tone frantic, the sound of car keys jingling in the background. "This sounds like a home invasion or something. They can’t just—"


    "No!" Eliana hissed, her voice rising slightly before she caught herself. "No police, Henry. Please. Rafael... he’s involved in this mess somehow. I don’t want anything to hurt him. He’s not here, but if cops show up, it could blow up everything. Juste get me. I’ll figure out an exit."


    "Alright, alright," Henry relented, though worryced his words. "I’m on my way. Stay on the line if you can—tell me when you’re out."


    As Eliana nodded to herself, clutching the phone like a talisman, the bathroom door rattled. She gasped, her breath freezing in her lungs. She scrambled behind the door, pressing her body t against the wall, her heart thundering so loudly she feared it would give her away. The knob turned, and the door swung open slowly. Eliana gasped in fear, she could have sworn she had locked the door earlier.


    "Eliana?" a soft whisper called out. "Miss Eliana, it’s me—ra."


    Relief flooded Eliana like a dam breaking. She peeked around the door, seeing the kind-faced maid with her ck hair tied back, her uniform crisp but her eyes wide with concern. Eliana lunged forward, wrapping her arms around ra in a desperate hug. "ra! Oh, thank God. I thought it was them."


    ra hugged her back fiercely, her voice a hushed murmur against Eliana’s ear. "Shh, dear. I heard themotion—Mrs Vexley is on a warpath. You can’t stay here. She’s tearing the ce apart looking for you. If she finds you... well, let’s not let that happen."


    Eliana pulled back, her honey eyes brimming with tears. "I know. I was just talking to a friend—he’sing to get me. But Rafael... I tried his phone but..."


    ra shook her head sadly, her hands gripping Eliana’s arms. "His phone’s off, same as James’s. They’re probably handling some business, undercover or something. You’re on your own right now, miss. But I’m not letting you face this alone. Come on, I’ll help you escape. We have to hurry; they’re checking the upper floors first, but it won’t be long."


    Eliana nced down at herself—still in the fluffy bathrobe and slippers from the night before, her curly hair tousled and damp. "I’m not even dressed. What if they see me?"


    "No time for that," ra urged, tugging her hand. "Follow me. Stay quiet, stay low."


    They slipped out of the bathroom, Eliana’s slippers whispering against the carpet as they crossed the bedroom. The door to the hallway was ajar, and ra peeked out, her finger to her lips. "Coast is clear—for now."


    They moved like shadows down the corridor, ra leading the way with the practiced stealth of someone who’d navigated this mansion’s secrets for years. Instead of the main staircase, ra veered toward a narrow service door hidden behind a tapestry depicting ancient hunts—ironic, Eliana thought bitterly. It creaked open to reveal a dimly lit back stairwell, used by staff to move unseen. This route was different from the one Eliana used when she escaped the mansion before.


    "Down here," ra whispered, her voice echoing softly off the stone walls. "It leads to the kitchens, then out to the gardens. But we can’t go straight—Mrs Vexley got eyes everywhere."


    Eliana’s pulse raced as they descended, the air growing cooler andced with the faint scent of baking bread from below. At the bottom, ra paused, listening. Voices drifted from the kitchen—maids chattering nervously about the search. "Not that way," ra muttered. She pulled Eliana into a side passage, a forgotten utility corridor lined with pipes and dusty crates. "This old tunnel runs under the east wing. It was for the original staff back in the day—leads right to the greenhouse. From there, a gate to the outer grounds. No one uses it anymore; overgrown with ivy. Perfect cover."


    Eliana nodded, her breath hitching. "ra, you’re a lifesaver. How do you know all this?"


    ra offered a small, wry smile as they hurried along, the dim bulbs flickering overhead. "Been here longer than most. Seen the Vexleys’ dirtyundry—literally and figuratively. You remind me of my elder sister, miss. Kind, but too trusting. Can’t let them break you."


    They emerged into the greenhouse, the air humid and thick with the scent of orchids and ferns. ss walls shimmered with morning light, but ra steered them toward a rusted side door camouged by climbing vines. She pushed it open with a grunt, revealing a narrow path through the manicured gardens, bordered by tall hedges that formed a natural maze.


    "Here," ra said, thrusting a familiar box into Eliana’s hands—her old packing box, taped shut but bulging slightly. "I helped you pack this in your room earlier. Grabbed it when I started hearing themotion. Thought you might need it if things went south."


    Eliana’s eyes widened in shock and gratitude, clutching the box like a treasure. "ra... I don’t know what to say. Thank you. This means everything."


    ra squeezed her shoulder, her eyes misty. "No time for tears. Run, dear. Get as far as you can—make sure Mrs Vexley doesn’t spot you. Stay safe. And if you ever need anything..."


    "I will," Eliana promised, hugging her onest time. "You’re family to me now."


    With that, ra slipped back inside, the door clicking shut. Eliana bolted down the path, the box awkward under her arm, her robe pping like a g of surrender. She ran until the mansion was a distant silhouette, then ducked behind a cluster of rose bushes, their thorns pricking at her skin like tiny warnings.


    Panting, she ripped open the box, pulling out a faded gray hoodie and a pair of worn jeans—remnants of her old life, simple and unassuming. She shrugged off the robe, the cool morning air raising goosebumps on her warm brown skin. Hurriedly, she tugged on the jeans, zipping them with shaking hands, then pulled the hoodie over her head, its fabric soft and familiar against her curls. Slippers discarded for bare feet—better for silence—she shouldered the box again and kept running, thorns and gravel biting into her soles.


    As she dialed Henry’s number once more, her voice breathless over the line, "Henry? I’m out. Heading toward the main road—hurry!"


    The estate’s gates loomed ahead, freedom tantalizingly close, but the shadows of betrayal lingered, chaining her heart even as she fled.