<h4>Chapter 93: A Good Friend</h4>


    As the smooth ck car rolled away from the sprawling Vexley estate, the morning sun slid across its gleaming hood, scattering reflections like shards of ss over the perfectly trimmedwns. The mansion behind them stood in all its opulent silence—columns, marble, and secrets—but Rafael Vexley didn’t nce back.


    He sat in the back seat, spine stiff as iron, his eyes trained on the road ahead though he wasn’t the one driving. His wheelchair, polished to a cold shine, was folded and strapped neatly beside him—a prop more than a necessity. To the world, it painted him as fragile, broken. To Rafael, it was the perfect disguise, a mask that let people underestimate him. He thrived in their underestimation.


    The interior smelled faintly of leather and expensive cologne, but it couldn’t mask the tension coiled inside the car. James kept both hands steady on the wheel, eyes fixed on the asphalt stretching endlessly before them. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The low growl of the engine was the only sound, a rhythmic pulse that filled the silence like a warning drumbeat.


    Rafael slid a hand into the pocket of his tailored jacket. His movements were deliberate, elegant—practiced. He withdrew his phone, its sleek screen catching a sh of sunlight. A faint smirk curved his lips as his thumb hovered, then pressed with finality. The screen went dark. He switched it offpletely, as if severing a lifeline. No calls. No distractions. No one prying into what came next.


    "Switch it off, James," Rafael said, his voice low andmanding,ced with the cold calction that defined him in moments like these. "You know the drill. Austin’s rules—no exceptions, not even for old friends."


    James nodded, ncing in the rearview mirror as he powered down his own device. "Understood, sir. Last thing we need is Austin’s paranoia kicking in. He’s cautious for a reason, running that mafia empire of his."


    Rafael leaned back, his piercing steel eyes staring out the window. A flicker of memory surfaced, unbidden but vivid. Austin Miller, the head of one of the country’s most formidable underground syndicates, wasn’t just a business associate; he was a ghost from Rafael’s haunted past. They had met in the cold, unforgiving halls of that elite boarding school, a ce that felt more like a prison than an education. Rafael’s father with the push from Mirabel had shipped him there to hide her embarrassment—a blind, vulnerable boy who didn’t fit her perfect family image. Austin’s parents, meanwhile, had sent him as punishment for his rebellious streak, hoping the strict regime would break him.


    But it hadn’t. Instead, it forged an unlikely bond. For a whole year in that ce, Austin had been Rafael’s shield, his broad-shouldered protector Rafael against the cruel taunts of their peers. "Hey, leave the blind kid alone," Austin would growl, his voice already carrying the authority that wouldtermand a criminal empire. Rafael, grateful beyond words, had repaid him with quiet loyalty, sharingte-night conversations in the dorms about dreams bigger than their circumstances. "One day, I’ll get out of here and build something unstoppable," Rafael had whispered once, his hands clenched in frustration. Austin hadughed, pping him on the back. "And I’ll be the guy making sure no one messes with you, Raf. Blind or not, you’re sharper than half these idiots."


    Then, Rafael’s grandfather had swooped in like a savior, pulling him from that hellhole and back into the world of wealth and opportunity. Rafael had thought that was the end of it—until ten yearster, when a tall, imposing figure strode into the lobby of Vexley Enterprises, demanding a one-on-one with the CEO. Austin Miller, now a kingpin in the shadows, was shopping for top-tier security tech to fortify his sprawling properties. As they sat across from each other in Rafael’s opulent office, Austin had tilted his head, studying him intently.


    "You look just like this kid I knew back in boarding school," Austin had said, his voice gruff but tinged with nostalgia. "Blind as a bat, same name—Rafael. Hell, even the same sarcastic grin and he was fun. I remember one time we snuck into the kitchen and ’borrowed’ the headmaster’s prized whiskey, poured it into the punch bowl at the formal dinner. Chaos ensued."


    Rafael’s heart had skipped a beat. He lowered his voice, a rare smile cracking his facade. "It was apple juice we swapped it with, Austin. But yeah, I remember. And I’m that Rafael. Guess we both escaped that dump in our own ways."


    <fn4d61> This text is hosted at find[?]ovel</fn4d61>


    Austin’s eyes had widened, then crinkled with genuine joy. "No shit! Raf, you sly bastard. Look at you now—running empires while I’m... well, running mine." Theirughter had echoed through the room, reigniting a friendship tempered by time and trials. But Rafael was no fool; Austin’s world was drenched in blood and betrayal. He set invisible boundaries—mutual respect, asional favors, but never full immersion. Austin, for his part, understood. He was dangerous, yes, but loyal to those who earned it.


    Now, in the present, Rafael was cashing in one of those long-shelved favors, the kind you didn’t waste on anything small.


    He remembered the weight of the moment as clearly as if it were still unfolding. Yesterday, after James had patched him through to Austin’s office on a secure line, Rafael’s voice had been low, deliberate, steady enough to disguise the storm underneath.


    "Austin," he’d said, his tone clipped but burning, "I need your help."


    There had been a pause on the other end, a silence thick with calction. Men like Austin didn’t move without knowing the stakes. Rafael hadn’t left him guessing for long.


    "I want you to find a man. Jason Asher." He’d spat the name like venom, every syble heavy with contempt. His fingers had tightened against the armrest of his chair until his knuckles nched. "He touched what is mine. He dared."


    Rafael’s voice had darkened then, hisposure fraying just enough to let Austin hear the edge of the fury he’d been choking back. "Get him to confess. Every detail. Make him admit what he plotted—the kidnapping of my caregiver... of Eliana Bet." The hesitation in his voice had betrayed the crack in his armor, the way her name lodged itself somewhere dangerous inside him.


    The silence that followed stretched thin before Rafael finished, his tone like steel drawn across stone. "Make him talk, Austin. And when he does—I want that brat to pay. I want him to know what it means to cross me."


    Austin had chuckled darkly. "For you, Raf? Consider it done. My boys are pros at loosening tongues."


    <i>To be continued... </i>