《His Bride in Chains》


 Chapter 1: Left Behind

    <h4>Chapter 1: Left Behind</h4>


    "I hate this miserable life, Frank!"


    Mirabel¡¯s shriek cracked the early morning calm, echoing like a scream in a canyon. The sun hadn¡¯t yet broken fully over Brookend, but their tiny home was already aze with fury.


    "You hear me? I hate it! I hate this crumbling house. I hate waking up every morning to the sound of rats in the walls. I hate the stench of garbage and sweat that follows you around like a damn shadow!" Her voice was ragged, wild with years of pent-up rage.


    Frank Bet stood at the foot of the stairs, shoulders tense beneath his faded work shirt, hands trembling around a chipped ceramic mug. The steam from his untouched coffee curled up uselessly into the chilly air, ignored and unwanted¡ªjust like him.


    "Mirabel, please¡ª"


    "Don¡¯t ¡¯please¡¯ me, Frank!" she snapped, whipping around with eyes zing. "I was somebody before I met you. I had dreams. I had offers. I was going ces. But you¡ª" she stabbed a finger in his direction¡ª"you dragged me down into this pit and convinced me it was home!"


    "You said you loved me," Frank murmured, voice cracking.


    Mirabelughed, short and bitter. "Love? God, how pathetic. I must¡¯ve been out of my mind."


    She spun toward the hallway, where a glossy red suitcase waited like a silent aplice. Her heels clicked furiously across the floorboards as she grabbed the handle, her scarlet coat swirling behind her like a me set to burn the past.


    Little Eliana, only four, crouched behind the half-closed hallway door, a threadbare teddy clutched tight to her chest. Her big honey-brown eyes peeked through the crack, wide and trembling.


    Frank noticed her and took a single step forward. "Mirabel... Eliana. Don¡¯t leave her."


    Mirabel paused by the threshold, one manicured hand smoothing down her silky scarf. She looked back, not at Frank, but at the tiny figure hiding in the shadows.


    "At least say goodbye to her," Frank said, almost choking on the words. "Don¡¯t just disappear."


    With a roll of her eyes and a sigh sharp enough to draw blood, Mirabel crouched¡ªjust for a moment. "Be a good girl," she said to Eliana, her voice devoid of any warmth. No kiss. No hug. Just a few cold, brittle words she¡¯d likely forget before noon.


    Then she stood and walked out.


    The door shut behind her with a hollow bang¡ªthe kind that doesn¡¯t just close, but seals something in. Or out.


    And for the rest of her life, Eliana would remember that sound¡ªnot the words, not the suitcase, not the coat¡ªbut that final bang, echoing in her chest like a wound that never quite healed.


    <strong>Six Years Later...</strong>


    "God, this hill again," Frank Bet muttered under his breath, muscles straining as he pushed the rusty handle of his garbage cart up the steep incline of Elston Avenue. The morning was barely awake¡ªjust a pale smear of sun brushing against the rooftops¡ªyet sweat was already beading on his brow.


    The air smelled of city dust, old banana peels, and engine grease. Flies buzzedzily near the dumpsters, and the asphalt shimmered with dew that hadn¡¯t yet evaporated. But Frank didn¡¯tin.


    He never did.


    His hands, hardened and cracked, bore the story of every hard-earned coin. His faded navy uniform clung to him in all the wrong ces, seams worn out, the badge over his chest barely readable: <strong><i>Frank B. </i></strong>Still, he wore it with a quiet kind of dignity. As if the name stitched there was more than thread¡ªlike it stood for something that mattered.


    At the corner of Elston, just beneath a crooked streemp humming with tired electricity, he paused beside an overflowing dumpster. The lid hung open, cockeyed and defiant. A ck garbage bag, partly torn, spilled open onto the pavement.


    Curious, Frank nudged it gently with his stick.


    Clink.


    It didn¡¯t seem like the sound of tin cans or leftover bones. This was... heavier. Delicate.


    Frowning, Frank bent down, peeled the stic bag open¡ªand gasped.


    Inside the torn bag was a velvet-lined box, the kind that belonged in grand ss cases and private safes. Nestled within, jewelry sparkled like spilled stars. Sapphire nes tangled with ruby-studded bracelets. Diamond earrings winked beneath the morning light like secrets. And there, tucked against the edge of the box, was a brown leather wallet¡ªsleek, polished and expensive.


    Frank¡¯s heart pounded as he picked it up with trembling fingers. He flipped it open.


    <strong>Keh Holloway.</strong>


    The ID practically screamed wealth¡ªgovernment-issued, crisp, with an address printed in bold letters: <strong>Hyde Crescent</strong>. This was the kind of neighborhood with fountains instead of flowerpots. With gates taller than his dreams.


    Frank looked around.


    Nothing. No footsteps. No voices. No cameras. The street was still.


    He nced back at the treasure in his hands. His mind raced. What if someone sees me? What if they think I stole it? What if I take it to the police and and they make it disappear?


    His stomach twisted. He couldn¡¯t afford risk. Not with Eliana depending on him for every grain of rice, every used schoolbook, every secondhand shoe. She was only ten¡ªbut already wiser than most grown men and women. Too wise, in truth.


    Frank whispered a quiet prayer under his breath and, after wrapping the box in an old towel from his cart, tucked the wallet carefully into his chest pocket.


    Then he started walking.

 Chapter 2: Rewards of Kindness

    <h4>Chapter 2: Rewards of Kindness</h4>


    Hyde Crescent. It looked like something pulled from a fairytale¡ªand not the cheerful kind. Towering wrought-iron gates, manicured driveway, and a marble lion perched atop each gatepost, watching with stone-cold judgment. Frank stepped forward slowly, his boots far too loud on the polished brick walkway.


    Two guards emerged, dressed in tailored ck suits that screamed money and muscle. Both looked him over like he was something scraped off the bottom of a shoe.


    Frank cleared his throat. "Mornin¡¯. I... uh... I think I found something that belongs to your boss."


    One of the guards raised an eyebrow. "Who are you?"


    Frank reached into his pocket, slowly, and held out the wallet. "I¡¯m nobody, really. Just a man tryin¡¯ to do what¡¯s right."


    They exchanged a nce.


    The taller guard pressed a finger to his earpiece and murmured something.


    Momentster, the great oak doors of Holloway Manor swung open.


    Out strode an older man in an open silk robe and velvet slippers, gray hair tousled from sleep and sky blue eyes wild with worry.


    "Where is it?" His voice cracked as he came down the steps, robe pping behind him like a battle g.


    Frank stepped forward and held out the towel-wrapped bundle.


    The old man took it with shaking hands, peeling the fabric back until the velvet box peeked through. His breath caught. For a long, fragile moment, all he did was stare.


    "This..." His voice broke. "This belonged to my wife. God rest her soul."


    He pressed the box to his chest, eyes shimmering. "She wore these on our wedding day. I thought¡ªI thought they were gone forever."


    Frank shifted, ufortable. "Found it down by Elston. Half-spilled outta a torn bag. I figured... it didn¡¯t belong there."


    Mr. Holloway looked up slowly, eyes searching Frank¡¯s face like he couldn¡¯t quite believe what he was seeing. "You have no idea what this means to me."


    He turned abruptly to the guards. "Let him in! Bring this man breakfast! Tea! Coffee! Anything he wants!"


    Frank raised both hands, shaking his head. "No need, sir. I didn¡¯te for all that. Just wanted to give it back."


    "Nonsense!" Mr. Holloway stepped closer, his presencemanding despite the slippers. "You must let me reward you."


    "I can¡¯t ept anything¡ª"


    "I insist."


    Frank hesitated, stepping back.


    Mr. Holloway raised his chin. "Please. At least let me show my gratitude. Name it. Anything."


    Frank looked down at his worn boots, the calluses on his hands aching just a little more than usual.


    He sighed.


    "Well... my daughter. Eliana. She¡¯s ten. Bright as a me, that one. Reads books three times her age. But..." He swallowed. "I can¡¯t afford a school that¡¯d give her a real shot. Not the kind she deserves."


    Mr. Holloway¡¯s eyes lit up.


    "Done."


    Frank blinked. "I¡ªI wasn¡¯t asking for¡ª"


    "But you were," the old man said gently, a smile creeping across his lined face. "And she deserves it. Because of you."


    Frank¡¯s voice faltered. "You mean it?"


    "With all my heart," Mr. Holloway nodded. "Send her here tomorrow. I¡¯ll take care of everything. Uniforms, tuition, books, tutors¡ªwhatever she needs."


    Frank stood in stunned silence, lips parting, chest tight with something he hadn¡¯t felt in years.


    Hope.


    And for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to believe that maybe life still had room for miracles.


    *********


    <strong>One Week Later</strong>


    "Hold still, baby. Just one more tuck..."


    Frank Bet¡¯s hands trembled slightly as he adjusted the cor of Eliana¡¯s crisp white shirt. The uniform was wless¡ªnavy zer, pleated skirt, gold-stitched emblem over her heart. Her shoes were polished, socks pulled to perfection, and the brand-new backpack on her shoulders still smelled like the store it came from.


    Eliana stood motionless at the gates of St. Davina¡¯s Academy for Excellence, clutching her father¡¯s hand like she was afraid to let go.


    The gates loomed tall, gilded and ornate, as if daring her to walk through them. Beyond them stretched manicuredwns, elegant stone buildings, and children who looked like they¡¯d stepped out of glossy magazine ads. Chauffeur-driven cars idled at the curb, their engines purring like pampered cats. Girls with glossy curls and boys with perfectly knotted ties strode past,ughing, chattering, utterly at ease.


    Eliana was not.


    Her fingers curled tighter around Frank¡¯s rough, callused palm. "Papa..." Her voice came out in a whisper. "Are you sure I can go here?"


    Frank dropped to one knee so he could look her in the eye.


    That eye. Those eyes. Warm honey-brown, just like her mama¡¯s.


    He smiled through the ache in his chest, brushing a wild curl from her cheek. "Mr. Holloway said this is your school now, baby. He said they¡¯re lucky to have you. And I believe him."


    She bit her lip. "But I¡¯m not like them."


    "You¡¯re better than them," Frank said gently. "You¡¯ve got heart. You¡¯ve got fire. You¡¯ve earned every step forward you take from now on."


    She nodded, just barely, then turned toward the gate. She took a deep breath and then a small step.


    And just like that, Eliana Bet walked into a world that had never made room for girls like her¡ªuntil now.


    That very same day, in the marble-floored halls of St. Davina¡¯s, Eliana¡¯s path crossed with two names that would forever carve themselves into her story:


    Jason Asher¡ªwith his boyish smirk, wind-blown hair, and an effortless confidence that annoyed and intrigued in equal measure. He wore his zer like it was armor and walked like he ruled the halls even at age ten.


    Sarai Monroe¡ªpoised, polished, and painfully perfect. Her voice like sugar-dipped steel, her lip gloss always wless, her books always color-coded. She was a year younger than Eliana and Jason.


    The three were an unlikely trio¡ªbut something about them just clicked. A spark in the quiet chaos of adolescence.


    By the week¡¯s end, teachers had dubbed them The Golden Trio.


    Jason taught Eliana how to y chess beneath the wide branches of the old mango tree near the library. He was ruthless with his pieces but soft when he looked at her. Sarai, with her endless supply of charm and lip gloss, showed Eliana how to carry herself like a queen without needing a crown.


    And Eliana¡ªEliana gave them something rarer. She gave them her warmth. Her loyalty. Her stories. Herughter.


    And in time... her heart.


    Though both girls nursed quiet, growing feelings for Jason, it was Eliana¡¯s gentle fire that drew him in. Herughter. Her honesty. Her way of seeing light in ces others wouldn¡¯t dare look.


    By sixteen, Jason was brushing fingers against Eliana¡¯s palm under the table in ss, slipping her notes that made her blush, and walking her home afterte study sessions. He still smiled at Sarai¡ªhe always had¡ªbut behind that smile now lived a shadow of guilt.


    Sarai smiled back. Of course she did.


    But her silence was thunder waiting for a sky.


    Outside the gates, Keh Holloway had be more than a benefactor¡ªhe was a force in Eliana¡¯s life. <i>"My granddaughter by fate," </i>he¡¯d call her proudly at dinner parties, in magazine interviews, and to anyone rich enough to listen.


    He came to every birthday, every recital, every ceremony, bearing glittering gifts wrapped in satin ribbons. When Eliana turned eleven, he told Frank to give up his garbage route.


    "I¡¯ve seen the way people look at you," he said, not unkindly. "Let them see you the way I do."


    He handed Frank the deed to a tiny but sturdy mini-supermarket at the edge of town. Nothing fancy, but it was clean, it was his, and it brought in enough to pay for groceries without worry.


    And for the first time in their lives, Frank and Eliana didn¡¯t just have dreams.


    They had options.


    Eliana bloomed.


    She moved through the world with a kind of grace that couldn¡¯t be taught. Her curls bounced with every step. Herughter became the sound of the hallways. She was the girl who shared her lunch when others were hungry, who stood up even when it wasn¡¯t popr, who looked people in the eye and made them feel seen.


    And always, somewhere close, was Jason¡ªwalking beside her,cing his fingers through hers when no one was watching, kissing her forehead when they were alone, whispering promises that only the young believe forever.


    Frank watched from the storefront window as they walked past every afternoon. He¡¯d wave with a smile, the one that reached all the way to his eyes.


    He¡¯d made peace with the past. He¡¯d made a life for them.


    And for a long, golden while, it felt like the universe had finally said: <i>You¡¯ve earned this.</i>


    But life has a habit of changing its mind.


    Eliana turned twenty-two in early spring.


    And just when the world seemed settled in her favor¡ª


    Just when the dust had cleared, the pain had faded, and the stars finally aligned¡ª


    Everything changed.

 Chapter 3: Not as it Seems

    <h4>Chapter 3: Not as it Seems</h4>


    There was a time when life seemed to smile at Eliana with every breath she took.


    At twenty-two, she glided through life with the effortless grace of a queen who knew the world was already hers. Her curls were longer now, falling down her back in wild ck waves that bounced softly with each step. Her honey-brown eyes carried the wisdom of old pain, but they still burned with that bright, stubborn light that refused to die out.


    She was in her second year of college, studying Nursing. Her days blurred into a dance of early morning caf¨¦ runs, crowded lecture halls, group presentations, and volunteering at the children¡¯s hospital on weekends. Every morning before ss, her father always called to tell her she was his sunshine. Keh Holloway (her adopted grandfather) still introduced her to guests as "my granddaughter by fate," and her two best friends¡ªJason and Sarai¡ªkept her grounded when life felt overwhelming.


    The three of them went to the same college. Jason was a Business major, more interested in socialising than studying. Sarai, on the other hand, floated through her Psychology sses like a queen, building her social media empire in between assignments. They all lived together in a fancy private hostel twenty minutes from school,plete with a private cook, cleaner, and chauffeur. From the outside, Eliana¡¯s life looked untouchable: the golden girl dating the golden boy, blessed with golden friends and golden opportunities.


    But the thing about gold? It cracks under pressure.


    It was a chilly Thursday evening when Eliana found herself sitting alone on a metal bench outside their hostel, hugging her knees as the spring breeze wrapped its cold fingers around her. The sky above was painted in streaks of dusty purple and navy blue, the streetlights flickering on one by one like sleepy fireflies.


    She checked her phone for the third time in sixty seconds. Nothing. No texts. No missed calls.


    Eliana and Jason were supposed to meet an hour ago to study for their uing maths exams. Jason had promised he¡¯d help her revise¡ªeven though he never remembered anything about their joined sses or professors.


    "Maybe he¡¯s stuck in traffic," she whispered to herself, though her heart knew better. He always called when he was stuck. Always.


    Another ten minutes crawled by, each second dripping heavier than thest. Then her phone buzzed.


    <strong>Jason: </strong><i>Hey babe. Change of ns. Having dinner with the guys. We¡¯ll study tomorrow. Love u ??</i>


    Eliana stared at the screen. Her throat closed up, burning with disappointment that she was tired of tasting. She typed quickly, fingers trembling.


    <i>But Jason... my exam is tomorrow.</i>


    The typing bubbles appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared again.


    <strong>Jason:</strong><i>You¡¯ll be fine, El. You¡¯re the smartest girl I know. ??</i>


    She swallowed hard, blinking away tears as she typed back: <i>Okay. Have fun.</i>


    The moment she pressed send, the hostel doors opened behind her, spilling out warm yellow light. Sarai stepped out, her sleek hair pulled into a perfect low bun, emerald earrings catching the glow like tiny stars.


    "Baby," Sarai called out, her brows knitting into a frown. "Why are you out here alone? I thought Jason was helping you study tonight."


    Eliana forced a small smile, hugging her textbook tighter to her chest. "Yeah... he¡¯s busy with his friends. We¡¯ll study tomorrow."


    Sarai rolled her eyes, the heel of her strappy satin shoes cking sharply against the pavement as she walked over. "Honestly, Eliana. You let him get away with everything."


    "He¡¯s just... tired," Eliana murmured, her voice sounding so small. "He¡¯s been busytely."


    "Busy doing what? ying pool and drinking overpriced whiskey shots?" Sarai scoffed softly, shaking her head. "You deserve better than this."


    Even though they were all best friends, Sarai never hid how much she disliked the way Jason treated Eliana. And she never missed a chance to remind Eliana of what she was worth. But Eliana never listened.


    Later that weekend, Jason did what he always did when he stood her up¡ªhe made it up to her.


    She was curled up in the library, surrounded by handwritten notes thaty scattered around her like fallen autumn leaves. She was scribbling so fast she didn¡¯t hear him walk in. Without warning, his arm draped over her shoulders from behind, and he pressed a warm kiss to her temple.


    "Don¡¯t do that," she gasped, pressing a palm to her chest as her heart thundered, not just from being surprised but also just by being near him. "You scared me."


    "Sorry, sorry," heughed, sliding into the chair beside her. His hazel eyes dazzled with mischievous intent. "How¡¯s my beautiful genius girlfriend doing?"


    Eliana tried to hold onto her annoyance, but Jason¡¯s grin was always too infectious. "I barely passed, Jason. You promised you¡¯d help me."


    He pouted dramatically, leaning in so close she could smell his cologne¡ªwoody, rich, intoxicating. "I know. I¡¯m sorry, babe. Here."


    From his pocket, he pulled out a small red box. Insidey a dainty silver bracelet, a tiny heart charm dangling from its chain.


    Her chest ached as her eyes watered. "Jason..."


    "Bought it when I was out with the guys," he said casually, though she saw the way his eyes flicked up, eagerly drinking in her reaction. "Saw it and thought of you."


    Warmth bloomed in her chest, spreading like melted chocte. Her anger slipped away, reced by that soft, helpless smile she always gave him. "It¡¯s beautiful. Thank you."


    "Anything for my girl," he murmured, pressing another kiss to her cheek.


    And just like that, everything was forgiven. Again.


    But the truth was, the cycle never stopped. It only got worse, deepening its roots in her heart with every sweet word and broken promise.

 Chapter 4: Never Letting Go

    <h4>Chapter 4: Never Letting Go</h4>


    Three years ago, Eliana¡¯s world began to shift in ways she couldn¡¯t understand.


    It started subtly at first ¨C her fathering home from work looking unusually pale, wiping sweat off his brow with trembling hands. Then came the fever. The kind that burned through him like wildfire, leaving him weak and delirious in bed for days. Every time it struck, he would end up in the hospital, hooked up to IV drips and monitors that beeped through the night.


    But what gnawed at Eliana¡¯s soul the most wasn¡¯t the fever itself ¨C it was the secrets. Her adopted grandfather, whom she loved calling "Papa H" since she was little, always took charge whenever her father fell ill. He would stride into the house with his quiet authority, instructing doctors and nurses, slipping into her father¡¯s hospital room with an expression carved from stone.


    Whenever Eliana begged her father to tell her what was wrong with him, he would just ruffle her hair with a sad smile and say, "Don¡¯t worry, angel. It¡¯s just a fever. I¡¯ll be fine."


    And when she turned to Papa H, tears brimming in her eyes, pleading for answers, he would only pat her cheek gently. "It¡¯s nothing serious, my child. Go home and rest."


    But Eliana wasn¡¯t stupid. She could see the truth in the silent nces they exchanged behind her back, the way her father winced when he thought she wasn¡¯t looking. They were hiding something from her ¨C something big.


    Then came the day that broke her heart in a way she never thought possible.


    She was studyingte at the College library when her phone buzzed with an iing call from one of the maids at home.


    <i>"Miss Eliana,"</i> the woman whispered, voice shaking,<i> "your father... he copsed. They¡¯re taking him to the hospital right now."</i>


    Her books slipped from her hands and scattered across the floor. Her vision blurred with tears as fear tore through her chest. Even though this wasn¡¯t the first time, it felt different. More terrifying. She was trembling so badly that her first instinct was to call Jason.


    She needed him more than she needed air right now. She needed his strong arms around her, grounding her when her knees threatened to buckle. She needed his fingers in her hair, his deep voice whispering in her ear that everything would be alright, even if it was a lie.


    <i>"Jason,"</i> she choked out when he finally answered her call, her sobs shaking her chest. <i>"It¡¯s my dad... they rushed him to the hospital again. Please... can youe with me? I can¡¯t go alone."</i>


    There was a pause, long enough to crack her already breaking heart. Then he sighed. <i>"Yeah... I¡¯lle. Give me a few minutes."</i>


    But he didn¡¯te.


    Minutes slipped away, each one dragging her deeper into despair until an entire hour had crawled by. She sat alone on the hostel steps, her shoulders shaking, her tears dripping onto the cracked concrete beneath her feet. Her phone was clenched so tightly in her trembling hands that her knuckles turned white. Still, no Jason.


    Eventually, with her cheeks raw from crying, she forced herself to stand up and go alone. Sarai wasn¡¯t around ¨C she¡¯d travelled out of town for a family emergency ¨C so there was no one else to call.


    The hospital air was harsh and cold, heavy with antiseptic and fear. Her fathery hooked up to machines again, tubes snaking around his fragile body, his chest rising and falling so softly it terrified her. Papa H was there too, quietly speaking with the doctors, but no one told her anything. They only fed her the same tired lie: "It¡¯s just a fever."


    When her father finally stabilised, Eliana slipped out of his room, her legs numb with exhaustion and relief. She found a metal bench near the entrance and sat there, staring out into the darkness, waiting for Jason to arrive and hold her like she needed.


    Hours passed, and then, close to midnight, her phone buzzed.


    <strong>Jason: </strong><i>Sorry babe. I¡¯m too tired. Had a ss meeting. Going home to sleep. Love you.</i>


    The disappointment was sharp and brutal, slicing through her chest like ss. Tears pooled in her eyes, but she didn¡¯tsh out. She had never been that girl. Instead, she typed back with trembling fingers:


    <strong>Eliana:</strong><i>Okay. Please rest well. Don¡¯t skip dinner.</i>


    The next day, he turned up at her hostel, grinning with that boyish smile that always melted her. He carried a bouquet of half-wilted roses and caramel choctes. Without a word, he tickled her until sheughed through her tears, then kissed them away with soft, apologetic lips.


    And just like that, she forgave him.


    Of course she did.


    But things only grew worse.


    For their seventh-year anniversary, Eliana wanted to create something unforgettable. She sent the cook away from the hostel kitchen and spent the entire afternoon preparing creamy chicken pasta with garlic bread and the wobbly chocte mousse Jason always teased her about. She set the table with flickering candles, her heart racing with excitement.


    He arrived three hourste, reeking of alcohol, his eyes zed. He barely nced at the food before pulling her into bed, his drunken apologies muffled against her neck. In the morning, she woke up alone, the sheets cold beside her. But there, on her pillow, was a crumpled piece of paper with a childish doodle ¨C stick figure Jason on his knees, apologising to stick figure Eliana with a sad face.


    She clutched it to her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks, convinced it meant he truly loved her.


    But love, she was slowly realising, shouldn¡¯t feel like this. It shouldn¡¯t hurt this way.


    Then came the night Sarai finally snapped.


    They were curled up together on Eliana¡¯s bed, towels wrapped around their damp hair after ate shower, their legs tangled under the nkets. Sarai was scrolling through her phone, her jaw tight with anger.


    "Baby," she said suddenly, her voice trembling with barely restrained rage, "did you know Jason was with another girlst night? A brte from Business Admin. I saw them at Wildwood. She was practically sitting on hisp."


    Eliana froze. Her chest clenched painfully, bile rising in her throat. "You¡¯re lying," she whispered.


    "I¡¯m not," Sarai snapped, her green eyes zing. "He lied to you again. You said he was at the library. He wasn¡¯t, Eliana. He¡¯s cheating on you."


    Her lips trembled. "She¡¯s probably just a friend¡ª"


    "Stop!" Sarai threw her phone aside and red at her, furious tears brimming in her eyes. "When will you stop making excuses for him? You¡¯re so desperate to be loved that you¡¯re blind to the fact that he doesn¡¯t deserve you."


    "Sarai, don¡¯t say that," Eliana whispered, hugging her knees tighter against her chest. Tears streamed down her face as her voice cracked. "He just needs time. He¡¯ll change. I know he will."


    "Dump him," Sarai said coldly, her voice like ice. "He¡¯s my friend, but he¡¯s trash. You¡¯re better than this."


    "No." Eliana¡¯s voice was quiet but unbreakable, despite her tears. "No. I love him. He just... he just needs me to be patient."


    Sarai stood abruptly, grabbing her Chanel purse from the desk before storming towards the door. "You¡¯re pathetic," she hissed under her breath and mmed the door behind her.


    Silence closed in around Eliana like a suffocating nket. She sat there for a long time, staring at the silver bracelet Jason had given her. Its cold metal bit into her palm as sobs racked her body.


    But eventually, she wiped her tears away. She wasn¡¯t going to give up on him.


    She still believed love meant holding on ¨C even when it broke you.


    She wasn¡¯t like her mother, who walked away when life got too hard.


    No. Eliana would stay.


    Even if it shattered her.


    Because to her, that was love.


    And she was never going to let it go.

 Chapter 5: Not One of Us

    <h4>Chapter 5: Not One of Us</h4>


    Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Jason Asher¡¯s penthouse, perched high above the bustling streets, the city skyline glittered like a king¡¯s crown under the night sky. From up here the chaos below felt like a distant memory. The ce screamed luxury¡ªpolished ck marble floors that reflected the dim golden lights, a massive leather sectional scattered with soft cashmere throws, and a sleek bar lined with bottles that probably cost more than most people made in a month. The air was choking with the sharp scent of expensive cologne, mingling with the raw, musky remnants of sex, making the room feel both intoxicating and forbidden.


    On the king-sized bed, silk sheetsy twisted around two naked bodies, Jason and Sarai moving together with a kind of wild, desperate energy¡ªlike two people who knew exactly how many rules they were breaking but didn¡¯t care in the slightest. Sarai¡¯s glossy jet-ck hair spilled across the pillows, her sharp green eyes half-lidded with pleasure as she arched beneath Jason. Her manicured nails dug into his shoulders, leaving crescent moons on his gym-toned skin. Jason¡¯s blonde hair was damp with sweat, his hazel eyes glinting with a mix of lust and arrogance as he leaned down, his lips grazing her ear, whispering something that made herugh¡ªa low, sultry sound that echoed in the softly lit room.


    The headboard mmed against the wall in a steady rhythm, like a dark, twisted timekeeper counting out the beat of their betrayal. Outside, the city lights flickered through the windows, washing the room in fleeting golds and silvers that danced across their bodies. Shadows caressed the smooth curve of Sarai¡¯s spine as she arched beneath him, while Jason¡¯s muscles tightened and flexed with every powerful thrust of his cock, his hands gripping the sheets like he was holding onto hisst threads of sanity.


    Their breaths came out in sharp, ragged gasps that filled the room with the raw sound of lustful desires and guilt tangled together. The moment built and built, a feverish climax that felt like it might tear them both apart. And then, finally, they copsed against each other in a trembling heap, hearts pounding, chests heaving, the silk bedsheets sticking to their sweat-slicked skin as the city watched silently from beyond the ss.


    For a moment, theyy there, the only sound around them was the faint hum of the city below and their uneven breathing. Then Sarai stirred, her fingers trailingzily across Jason¡¯s chest, tracing the lines of his muscles with a possessiveness that bordered on obsession. Her touch was soft but deliberate, like a predator savoring its prey. She propped herself up on one elbow, her hair falling in a sleek curtain over one shoulder, her lips curved in a pout that was equal parts seductive and calcting.


    "Jason," she murmured, her voice honeyed but edged with urgency, "when are you going to stop this charade? When will you break up with her? You don¡¯t need Eliana. You have me." Her fingers paused, circling a spot just above his heart, as if she could im it with her touch alone.


    Jason groaned, not from desire this time, but from exasperation, and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. The crystal chandelier above glinted mockingly, reflecting the mess of their after sex. "Sarai, we¡¯ve been over this. I¡¯m not breaking up with Eliana. Not now, not ever." His voice was firm, but there was a petnt edge to it, like a child refusing to share a toy.


    Sarai¡¯s green eyes narrowed, and she sat up, the sheet slipping to reveal the curve of her corbone, the faint shimmer of her skin from the expensive body oil she always wore. "Why not?" she demanded, her voice rising. "We¡¯ve been doing this for five years, Jason. Five years of sneaking around, of me waiting for you to finally choose me. I¡¯m better than her. My family¡¯s rich, connected¡ªway more than hers ever will be. You and I make sense. We¡¯re the same kind of people."


    Jason snorted, a sound that was both amused and dismissive. He propped himself up on his elbows, his hazel eyes glinting with something cold. "Your family¡¯s rich, sure, but they¡¯re not Keh Holloway rich. Nobody is." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know how much my parents want in on his circle. They¡¯ve been kissing up to him for years, and Eliana¡¯s the key. She¡¯s his little princess, adopted or not. They¡¯d kill me if I let her go."


    Sarai¡¯s lips tightened into a thin line, her fingers curling into the sheets. "But you don¡¯t even love her anymore," she pressed, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. "You told me yourself¡ªtwo years into your rtionship, you found out she¡¯s not even his real granddaughter. She¡¯s a fraud, Jason. The daughter of a garbage collector, pretending to be one of us. I¡¯m the one who told you the truth, remember? Eliana lied to us about who she was. She doesn¡¯t belong in our world."


    Jason¡¯s jaw clenched, a flicker of something¡ªguilt, maybe¡ªcrossing his face before it was swallowed by indifference. He sat up fully, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, his back to her. The muscles in his shoulders tensed, and he ran a hand through his tousled blonde hair. "Yeah, you told me. And yeah, I was pissed. Back when we were eighteen, I thought I loved her. She was sweet, innocent, all that crap. But then you dropped that bomb about her dad being some nobody, and it changed everything. I¡¯m well aware she¡¯s not one of us, Sarai. She¡¯s... beneath us. But my parents don¡¯t care about that. They sat me down, told me to stick with her no matter what. Keh Holloway¡¯s money is worth more than her sob story."


    Sarai slid closer, her hand reaching for his arm, her touch insistent. "Then why keep up the act? My family¡¯s not chump change, Jason. We could make things happen¡ªbusiness deals, connections, everything your parents want. You don¡¯t need Eliana for that. You could have me, openly, no more hiding. We¡¯re perfect together."


    Jasonughed, a sharp, humorless sound that filled the room like dry ice. He shoved her hand off his arm, not gently, and stood, grabbing his discarded jeans from the floor. "Perfect? Come on, Sarai. Your family¡¯s got money, but it¡¯s pocket changepared to Holloway. Until you¡¯re swimming in <i>his</i> kind of cash, Eliana¡¯s my ticket. Besides..." He paused, pulling his shirt over his head, his voice softening into something almost wistful. "I still like her, okay? Yes she¡¯s boring as hell, always ying the goody-two-shoes, but there¡¯s something about her. She¡¯s... easy. She forgives me every time I screw up. What¡¯s not to like about that?"


    Sarai¡¯s face twisted, her green eyes zing with a fury she could barely contain. She leaned back against the headboard, the sheet pulled up to her chest, her body rigid with anger. "You¡¯re pathetic," she spat, echoing the words she¡¯d hurled at Eliana just days ago. "You¡¯re stringing her along because she¡¯s too weak to leave you, and you¡¯re too weak to let go of Holloway¡¯s money. You¡¯re not even man enough to choose what you really want."


    Jason spun around, his hazel eyes shing with irritation. "Don¡¯t start with me, Sarai. I¡¯m not in the mood. And don¡¯t ever tell me to break up with Eliana again. You know the deal. We have fun, we keep it quiet, and I stay with her. End of story." He zipped up his jeans, grabbed his phone from the nightstand, and headed for the door. "I¡¯m going back to the hostel. She¡¯s been blowing up my phone all night, whining about her dad or whatever. I can¡¯t deal with her crying right now."


    Sarai stayed silent, her jaw clenched, her fingers digging into the sheets as she watched him leave. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving her alone in the tangled mess of their betrayal. She was still naked, the cool air of the penthouse raising goosebumps on her skin, but the chill in her chest was colder. Her eyes burned with determination, her mind racing with ns.


    She wasn¡¯t going to let this go. Not Jason, not her pride, not her vision of a future where she was the one on his arm, not some garbage collector¡¯s daughter. Sarai Monroe always got what she wanted, no matter who she had to destroy to get it. And Eliana? Poor, naive Eliana, with her hopeful smiles and her pathetic loyalty, was about to learn just how far Sarai was willing to go.


    She slid out of bed, her movements graceful despite the storm raging inside her. As she reached for her silk robe, her lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile. She¡¯d find a way to break them up. Even if it destroyed Elianapletely.

 Chapter 6: A Dream on Her Finger

    <h4>Chapter 6: A Dream on Her Finger</h4>


    Thete afternoon sun streamed through the tall, arched windows of the private hostel, a grand, ivy-draped mansion where Eliana, Jason, and Sarai lived as college students. The golden light spilled across the shiny floors of the sprawling living room, glinting off theplex chandelier that hung like a constetion above. Eliana sat on a plush luxurious sofa, her slender frame wrapped in a soft woven sweater, a gift from her adopted grandfather, whose vast wealth had lifted her from a life of struggle to one of privilege. Her brown eyes, usually warm with hope, were clouded with grief, and her long, curly ck hair spilled over her shoulders, framing her heart-shaped face, now etched with pain. The faint scent ofvender from the maid¡¯s cleaning lingered in the air, mingling with the aroma of the chef¡¯s rosemary-roasted chicken wafting from the kitchen. Yet, inside Eliana¡¯s chest, a storm of hurt churned.


    Two days ago, at a college fundraiser, Eliana had overheard something that shattered her heart. It wasn¡¯t Jason¡¯s voice that had wounded her, but his silence. His wealthy friends, gathered in a corner of the opulent venue, had been mocking her past, their voices dripping with scorn. "She¡¯s just Keh Holloway¡¯s charity project," one had sneered, his wine ss glinting in the light. "Her dad¡¯s some sick nobody, leeching off Mr Holloway. And Eliana? She¡¯s just going about performing a fake princess act." The others hadughed, their cruel chuckles echoing, but what pierced Eliana most was Jason¡ªher Jason, the boy she¡¯d loved since childhood¡ªstanding there, his hazel eyes glinting with amusement as he joined theirughter. He hadn¡¯t said a word to defend her or her father, hadn¡¯t even flinched. Instead, he¡¯dughed along, his golden-boy charm masking a betrayal that cut deeper than words.


    Now, alone in the hostel¡¯s luxurious living room, Eliana sat with her fingers twisting the delicate gold bracelet her grandfather had given her for herst birthday. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling down her warm brown cheeks. "Maybe he doesn¡¯t love me anymore," she whispered, her voice cracking. The thought was a lead weight in her chest, suffocating the hope she¡¯d clung to through Jason¡¯s dismissive moments and careless nces. She¡¯d always forgiven him¡ªhiste-night study sessions that smelled faintly of whiskey, his flippant remarks about her <i>"new money"</i> status¡ªbut this? His silence, hisughter, felt like a betrayal of everything they¡¯d built.


    The heavy oak door creaked open, and Sarai Monroe glided into the room, her glossy jet-ck hair swept into a sleek bun that shimmered under the chandelier¡¯s glow. Her light brown skin glowed with the faint sheen of her signature body oil, and her emerald-green eyes sparkled with a concern that seemed almost too polished. Dressed in a tailored silk blouse and a designer skirt, Sarai was the picture of elegance, her heels clicking sharply on the marble as she crossed to Eliana. "Eliana, darling, you look like you¡¯ve been crying," she said, her voice honeyed but with a practiced edge. She dropped her Prada purse onto the sofa and pulled Eliana into a hug, her floral perfume enveloping the space. "What¡¯s wrong, baby? You sounded so upset on the phone."


    Eliana¡¯s lip trembled as she sank back into the sofa, Sarai settling beside her with the grace of a runway model. "It¡¯s Jason," she choked out, her voice barely audible. "At the fundraiser, I heard his friends... they were making fun of my past, my dad. They called him a leech, said I¡¯m just Keh¡¯s charity case. And Jason¡ªhe didn¡¯t say anything, Sarai. He justughed with them, like it was funny." Her voice broke, and she buried her face in her hands, sobs shaking her slender frame.


    Sarai¡¯s eyes widened, a flicker of satisfaction crossing her face before she masked it with a sympathetic frown. She reached out, rubbing Eliana¡¯s back in slow, deliberate circles. "Oh, baby," she murmured, her tone soft butced with a calcted sharpness. "That¡¯s awful. I can¡¯t believe he¡¯d just stand there and let them talk like that. But maybe... maybe this is a sign. Jason¡¯s always been spineless when ites to his friends. He¡¯s not good enough for you, Eliana. You¡¯re in college now, living this incredible life, and he¡¯s letting you down."


    Eliana lifted her head, her eyes red-rimmed and glistening. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice small, vulnerable.


    Sarai sighed dramatically, tossing her head so her bun caught the light. "You¡¯re not dumb, Eliana. You deserve someone who stands up for you, who fights for you. Jason¡¯s too weak, too caught up in his rich little world to care about your feelings. You¡¯re killing yourself trying to hold onto him, and for what? A guy whoughs when his friends mock your family?" She leaned closer, her green eyes locking onto Eliana¡¯s. "You need to break up with him. For you. You¡¯re too kind, too incredible, to let him treat you like this."


    Eliana¡¯s breath hitched, her fingers tightening around her bracelet. Sarai¡¯s words echoed her own fears, amplifying them until they felt like truth. "I... I think you¡¯re right," she whispered, her voice trembling with resolve. "I can¡¯t keep pretending this is okay. I love him, but maybe love isn¡¯t enough." Maybe she was like her mother after all. Eliana straightened, wiping her tears, a spark of determination ignited in her chest. "I¡¯m going to his room tonight. I¡¯m going to end it."


    Sarai¡¯s lips curved into a faint smile, quickly hidden as she squeezed Eliana¡¯s hand. "That¡¯s my girl," she said, her voice warm but her eyes cold. "You¡¯re stronger than you know."


    <strong>*********</strong>


    That evening, Eliana stood outside Jason¡¯s room in their shared hostel, her heart pounding like a drum. The hallway was lined with antique mirrors, reflecting her nervous figure in her elegant, cream-colored dress, another gift from her grandfather. At age ten, her old sneakers were long gone, reced by sleek ballet ts, but she still felt like an outsider in this world of wealth. She¡¯d rehearsed her words a hundred times: <i>Jason, we¡¯re done. I can¡¯t be with someone who doesn¡¯t defend me.</i> But standing here, her resolve wavered. She loved him¡ªthe boy who¡¯d shared his lunch with her in middle school, who¡¯d promised her forever under the stars. Could she really let him go?


    Before she could knock, the door swung open, and Jason stood there, his blonde hair tousled, his hazel eyes wide with surprise. He wore a tailored zer over a crisp shirt, looking every bit the charming heir she¡¯d fallen for. "Eliana?" he said, his voice a mix of confusion and charm. "What¡¯s up? I was just about to text you."


    Her throat tightened, but she forced the words out. "Jason, we need to talk. I¡ª"


    "Come to the lounge," Jason interrupted, grabbing Eliana¡¯s hand before she could respond. He pulled her quickly down the hall, his grip firm and unrelenting.


    Eliana stumbled after him, confusion swirling in her chest. The lounge door swung open, and she froze.


    Her breath caught. The grand room, with its towering drapes and roaring firece, was filled with people. Men and women in designer suits and dresses stood chatting softly, sses of wine in hand. Jason¡¯s parents were there, smiling and mingling among the guests, their polished presencemanding the room.


    How... how are there so many people here? Eliana thought, her heart thudding. When did they arrive? How did I not hear theme in?


    She felt her pulse quicken with unease, her eyes darting through the crowd. And then she spotted Sarai standing near the firece, just as wide-eyed as she was. Sarai¡¯s green eyes blinked in disbelief at the gathering before her gaze flicked to Jason, then to Eliana. Her lips curved into a tight smile that didn¡¯t reach her eyes.


    "Eliana, darling," Sarai drawled, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "What a surprise."


    Eliana swallowed hard, her stomach twisting with dread as she realized Sarai hadn¡¯t known about this either. Whatever Jason was nning, neither of them were prepared for it.


    Eliana had frozen in shock, her rehearsed speech dissolving under the weight of their stares. "I... I went to talk to Jason and..." she stammered, her voice barely audible.


    Jason turned to her, his expression softening into something almost genuine. "Eliana, I¡¯ve been an idiot," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "I¡¯ve taken you for granted, and I¡¯m sorry." Before she could respond, he dropped to one knee, pulling a smooth red box from his pocket. The room gasped, and Eliana¡¯s heart stopped as he opened it to reveal a dazzling diamond ring, its facets sparkling like a promise.


    "Eliana Bet," he said, his voice dense with so much love¡ªor a convincing act, "I love you to the moon and back. Will you marry me?"


    The room spun. Eliana¡¯s eyes darted to Sarai, who stood rigid, her smile frozen, her fingers clenched around her wine ss. "Eliana," Sarai said quickly, stepping forward, her voice low but urgent. "Think about this. You were just telling me how hurt you were. He didn¡¯t even defend you. Are you sure? People don¡¯t change that fast."


    Eliana¡¯s gaze flicked back to Jason, his hazel eyes pleading, his smile so familiar it ached. She thought of hisughter at the fundraiser, his silence as his friends tore her apart, of the years she¡¯d loved him, of the hope she¡¯d clung to despite the pain. But she also thought of the boy who¡¯d held her hand through her fears, who¡¯d promised her the world. Maybe he could change. Maybe this was his way of proving it.


    "I... I love you too, Jason," she whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Yes. Yes, I¡¯ll marry you."


    The room erupted in thunderous apuse as Jason slid the glittering ring onto her trembling finger. It felt impossibly heavy, like a golden shackle locking her into a life she wasn¡¯t sure she chose, yet it also felt like the fulfilment of every little girl¡¯s fairytale dream. For a split second, as he pulled her close and pressed his lips against hers, she allowed herself to sink into the illusion ¨C to believe that this was love, that this was forever.


    Sarai pped along with everyone else, her perfectly manicured hands moving in practiced rhythm. But her smile was stretched thin, like stic pulled too tight, and her eyes burned with a simmering rage that Eliana, lost in her dizzy haze of champagne and cheers, was far too innocent to notice.


    The celebration roared to life around them ¨C crystal sses clinking, the sharp pop of champagne corks punctuating the air,ughter rising and falling like waves crashing on a shore. Eliana¡¯s phone buzzed insistently in her pocket, a tiny vibration that somehow cut through the cacophony. She fumbled it out with shaky fingers, expecting another congrattory text or a friend¡¯s excited scream through the speaker.


    Instead, her chest clenched at the sight of her father¡¯s name glowing on the screen.


    "Excuse me," she mumbled politely, gently slipping away from the circle of well-wishers. Her heart pounded with an uneasy rhythm as she pressed the phone to her ear. "Hello? Papa?"


    His voice was weak, strained with something that sounded like desperation. "Eliana...pleasee home. Now. Something bad has happened."


    The words sliced straight through her euphoria. The ring on her finger, only moments ago a symbol of glittering promises, now felt like a b of iron dragging her under. Her vision blurred at the edges as cold dread pooled in her chest. She didn¡¯t even hear Jason calling her name behind her as she turned and began to walk away from the party lights, her entire world already beginning to crumble under her feet.

 Chapter 7: A Tragedy

    <h4>Chapter 7: A Tragedy</h4>


    The grand lounge of Eliana¡¯s hostel glowed under golden lights,ughter and clinking sses blending into a hazy blur as Eliana hurried towards the exit. Her cream dress brushed against her shaking legs, the delicate fabric catching and reflecting the warm chandelier light above. The diamond ring on her finger¡ªJason¡¯s proposal still ringing in her ears¡ªfelt unbearably heavy, like a stone dragging her down into cold, dark water.


    Her father¡¯s desperate voice kept ying in her mind. <i>"Eliana... pleasee home. Now. Something bad has happened." </i>Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst. Without looking back, she shoved open the heavy oak doors and stepped into the cool night air, her chest tight with fear.


    "Eliana!" Jason¡¯s voice caught her ears,ced with confusion and worry but she didn¡¯t turn. Her ballet ts pped against the cobblestone path as she hurried toward the parking lot, her thoughts were spiraling deeper into dark scenarios. What could have happened? Was her father sick again? Or worse? The world tilted, and she pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady her ragged breaths.


    "Eliana, wait!" Jason¡¯s footsteps pounded closer, his tailored zer pping behind him. His hazel eyes, usually so full of charm, were wide with concern¡ªor perhaps a well-practiced imitation of it. "Please wait! What¡¯s wrong? You¡¯re shaking like a leaf, my love."


    Sarai¡¯s heels ttered as she hurried alongside him, her sleek ponytail swishing against her back. "Eliana, stop!" she called, breathless. "What¡¯s happened?"


    Eliana stumbled to a halt at the hostel¡¯s edge, just before the driveway curved into the shadows of the estate¡¯s towering oaks. She clutched her phone so hard her knuckles whitened. Tears blurred her sight as she tried to focus on Jason¡¯s concerned hazel eyes and Sarai¡¯s sharp green gaze shimmering under the garden lights.


    "My... my dad just called," she panted, her voice breaking under the tremors of panic. "He told me... he told me toe home immediately. Something bad has happened."


    Sarai tilted her head slightly, confusion clouding her perfectly sculpted features. "Something bad? What do you mean, Eliana?" she asked, her voice gentle yet tinged with impatience. "What happened?"


    Eliana shook her head, her curls bouncing against her tear-streaked cheeks. "He didn¡¯t say. Just... just toe home. Now." Her voice broke, and she wrapped her arms around herself, the chilly night air biting at her bare shoulders.


    Sarai¡¯s expression softened, but her eyes remained calcting. She stepped forward, enveloping Eliana in a perfumed embrace that felt more like a performance thanfort. "Oh, baby, don¡¯t worry," she murmured, her voice syrupy sweet. "Everything¡¯s going to be fine. You¡¯ll see." She pulled back, her manicured hands lingering on Eliana¡¯s arms, her smile tight as stic wrap.


    Jason¡¯s jaw tightened, but his voice was gentle. "Come on, I¡¯ll drive you." He fished his phone from his pocket, dialing quickly. "Mom, hey, can you keep an eye on the party? Eliana and I need to step out for a bit. Yeah, it¡¯s important." He hung up, his golden-boy smile flickering as he turned to Eliana. "Let¡¯s go."


    "I¡¯ming too," Sarai said, her tone leaving no room for argument. She tossed her hair, her heels clicking decisively against the cobblestones as she strode toward Jason¡¯s sleek Mercedes-Benz, its silver curves glinting like a predator in the moonlight.


    Jason unlocked the car with a beep, holding the passenger door open for Eliana. "Get in," he said softly, his hand brushing her lower back. Eliana slid into the plush leather seat, her trembling fingers clutching her phone as Sarai climbed into the back, her perfume filling the car with a sharp floral scent.


    The engine roared to life, and Jason peeled out of the parking lot, the tires screeching faintly as they sped into the night. The city lights blurred past, a kaleidoscope of neon and shadow, but Eliana barely noticed. Her phone buzzed again, and her heart lurched as her father¡¯s name shed on the screen. She answered with shaking hands. "Papa? I¡¯m on my way. What¡¯s going on?"


    His voice was hoarse,ced with panic. "Eliana, don¡¯t go home. Come to Keh¡¯s house instead. Please, hurry." The line went dead before she could ask more, leaving her staring at the dark screen, her stomach twisting into knots.


    "Keh¡¯s house?" Jason nced at her, his brows furrowed. "Your grandfather¡¯s ce? Why there?"


    "I don¡¯t know," Eliana whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the engine. "He just said to go there." Her fingers tightened around the phone, the diamond ring glinting ominously in the dim light.


    Sarai leaned forward, her voice low and probing. "Eliana, what¡¯s got you so spooked? Your dad¡¯s probably just overreacting. You know how parents are." She waved a hand dismissively, but her eyes were sharp, watching Eliana like a hawk.


    Eliana didn¡¯t respond, her gaze fixed on the road ahead, her mind racing with images of her father¡¯s frail frame, his tired eyes, and Keh¡¯s warm, weathered smile. Keh, the man who¡¯d taken her and her father in like family, who¡¯d given her a taste of a life she¡¯d never dreamed of. What could have happened to make her father sound so broken?


    The grand gates of Keh Holloway¡¯s mansion loomed ahead, their wrought-iron elegance illuminated by floodlights. The guards recognized Eliana and waved them through without hesitation, the gates creaking open like the jaws of some great beast. Jason parked in the circr driveway, the gravel crunching under the tires as the car came to a stop.


    Eliana didn¡¯t wait for the engine to die. She flung the door open and ran toward the mansion¡¯s towering entrance, her ts slipping on the polished marble steps. "Papa!" she called, her voice echoing through the cavernous foyer. The chandeliers above created a warm glow over the luxurious interior, but the air felt heavy, suffocating.


    She burst into the living room, where a crowd had gathered¡ªbodyguards in crisp suits, domestic staff whispering nervously, and security personnel standing rigid by the walls. Her father sat slumped on a soft couch, his face buried in his hands, his thin shoulders shaking. Eliana¡¯s heart stopped. "Papa, what¡¯s wrong?" she demanded, dropping to her knees before him, her hands gripping his. "What happened?"


    He looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and glistening with tears. "It¡¯s Keh," he choked out. "He... he was in a car ident. The car... it exploded. They said his body was... was burnt to ash."


    The world dropped out from under her. Eliana¡¯s knees buckled, and she sank to the floor, a raw, keening sob tearing from her throat. "No," she whispered, shaking her head as tears streamed down her face. "No, not him. Not grandpa." Her Papa H, the man who¡¯d filled her life with warmth and wisdom, who¡¯d seen her when no one else did¡ªgone. Burnt to ash. The words didn¡¯t make sense, couldn¡¯t make sense.


    Jason was at her side in an instant, his strong arms wrapping around her. "Eliana, I¡¯m so sorry," he murmured, his voice thick with sadness¡ªor so it seemed. He pressed her against his chest, his hand stroking her hair. "I¡¯m here. We¡¯ll get through this."


    Sarai knelt beside her, her green eyes shimmering with what looked like tears. "Oh, baby," she said softly, her hand resting on Eliana¡¯s shoulder. "He wouldn¡¯t want you to fall apart like this. Keh loved your strength. You have to be strong for him now."


    Eliana barely heard them, her mind flooded with memories¡ªKeh¡¯s deepugh, the way he¡¯d call her "my girl" with pride, thete-night talks about life and dreams in this very room. He¡¯d been her anchor, her proof that fate could be kind. And now he was gone, reduced to nothing but ash in a cruel twist of chance. "I don¡¯t know how to do this without him," she sobbed, her voice raw. "He was... he was everything to me."


    "You¡¯re tougher than you think," Jason said, his voice firm but gentle. "You¡¯ve got us. You¡¯ve got your dad. You¡¯ll be okay."


    "Exactly," Sarai added, her tone almost too smooth. "Keh would want you to keep going, to live the life he wanted for you. Don¡¯t let him down."


    Eliana clung to her father¡¯s hand, her tears soaking into the plush carpet. The room was a blur of faces, all watching her with pity or curiosity, but none of them understood. None of them knew what it was like to lose the one person who¡¯d made her feel like she belonged in a world that had always pushed her away.


    The heavy silence was shattered by the sharp click of heels and the rustle of expensive fabric. Four figures strode into the living room, their presencemanding every eye. Two men and two women, all in theirte forties, dressed in tailored suits and dresses that screamed wealth and power. The older man, with graying temples and a stern jaw, stepped forward, his voice suddenlymanding the room.


    "We are Keh Holloway¡¯s children," he dered, his gaze sweeping the room with cold authority. "And we¡¯re here to settle our father¡¯s affairs."


    The room fell silent before erupting into stunned gasps, a ripple of shock coursing through the crowd like an electric current. Eliana¡¯s head jerked up, her tear-streaked face going rigid with disbelief. Keh¡¯s children? The ones Papa H had always avoided mentioning, as if their very names burned his tongue?


    Her heart mmed against her ribs as she took them in¡ªfour strangers standing there with gleaming smiles and eyes that hid secrets darker than midnight. Polished, poised, and dripping with the kind of quiet venom that could tear through anyone¡¯s peace.


    Why now? she thought, her pulse quickening. <i>What were they doing here... of all days?</i>

 Chapter 8: Evicted

    <h4>Chapter 8: Evicted</h4>


    The grand living room of Keh Holloway¡¯s mansion felt like it was holding its breath. Chandeliers bathed everything in golden light, but there was no warmth left in the room¡ªonly a heavy grief that loomed over everyone like an ominous presence.


    Eliana Bet knelt beside her father, Frank, clutching his trembling hand in both of hers. Tears clung to hershes as she looked around at the silent domestic staff, the stiff security guards, and then at them¡ªthe strangers who had just barged into their world without warning. Keh¡¯s children.


    At the front stood the eldest, Williams Holloway, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might shatter, cold gray eyes scanning the room like he was already bored. Beside him was Margaret, draped in a crimson dress that probably cost more than Eliana¡¯s entire life savings. Her sharp features were set in stone, unreadable. Then there was Evelyn, with her sleek blonde bob and lips pursed in permanent disapproval, as though the scent of grief itself offended her. And finally, Thomas. The youngest, with a smirk that danced across his face like a flickering me¡ªhalf amusement, half threat.


    They stood shoulder to shoulder, their expensive clothes gleaming under the chandelier light, looking less like a grieving family and more like a corporate army ready to seize control. It was as if they¡¯d stepped straight out of a boardroom and into a tragedy, and Eliana could already feel the storm they brought with them gathering at her feet.


    Behind them stood a wiry man in a pinstripe suit, adjusting his sses, his briefcase clutched like a weapon. He cleared his throat, his voice breaking the stunned silence. "I am Mr. Harold Grayson, attorney to the Holloway family. My clients, the rightful heirs of Keh Holloway, have asked me to oversee the immediate transition of this estate."


    Eliana¡¯s heart stuttered. <i>Transition? </i>Her gaze flicked to her father, whose gaunt face had gone ashen, his frail frame trembling under the weight of the words. The room seemed to shrink, the luxurious walls closing in as thewyer¡¯s voice droned on. "This property, along with all associated assets, now belongs solely to Mr. Holloway¡¯s children. As such, all non-essential personnel¡ªsecurity, domestic staff, and... others¡ªare to vacate the premises immediately."


    A collective gasp rippled through the room. The maids clutched their aprons, their whispers rising like a tide. The security guards stiffened, exchanging uneasy nces. Eliana¡¯s breath caught in her throat, her mind reeling. Vacate? She tightened her grip on her father¡¯s hand, her voice only a whisper. "Papa, what¡¯s happening?"


    Frank¡¯s eyes, red-rimmed and hollow, met hers. "Eliana, I¡ª" His voice cracked, and he shook his head, unable to finish.


    Williams Holloway stepped forward, his polished shoes clicking ominously on the marble floor. His graying temples caught the light as he surveyed the room with the cold detachment of a predator. "Let me make this clear," he said, his voice low and venomous. "It hase to our notice that you, Frank Bet, and your daughter, Eliana, have been leeching off our father for years. An old, senile man, easily manipted by your sob stories. We know exactly what you¡¯ve been doing, and we will not stand for it."


    Eliana¡¯s jaw dropped, her heart mming against her ribs. "Leeching?" she whispered, the word tasting like ash. She rose to her feet, her slender frame trembling with a mix of grief and fury. "How dare you? Grandpa Keh was family to us! He loved us, and we loved him! We never asked for anything¡ª"


    "Save your breath," Margaret cut in, her crimson lips curling into a sneer. "Our father was a fool to let you anywhere near him. You think you¡¯re part of this family? You¡¯re nothing but parasites."


    Frank struggled to his feet, his thin shoulders squared despite the tremor in his hands. "Please," he said, his voice hoarse but steady. "Your father just died. His ashes... it¡¯s barely cold. Can¡¯t we honor him first? Bury him, mourn him, before you tear everything apart? We can talk about thister, when¡ª"


    "When what?" Evelyn snapped, her blonde bob swaying as she leaned forward. "When you¡¯ve had time to siphon off more of his fortune? No. This ends now."


    Eliana¡¯s vision blurred with tears, her chest heaving as she tried to find words. "You don¡¯t understand," she said, her voice breaking. "Keh took us in when we had nothing. He gave us a home, a purpose. He was my grandfather, not just your father. He¡ª"


    "That¡¯s enough!" Williams barked, his voice echoing like a gunshot. He turned to thewyer, his eyes glinting with malice. "Mr. Grayson, proceed."


    Before Eliana could protest further, the double doors of the living room burst open, and a group of fifteen to twenty burly men in dark suits stormed in. Their boots thudded against the marble, their faces expressionless but their intent clear. The room erupted into chaos¡ªmaids screamed, security guards shouted, and the air filled with the cacophony of panic.


    "Get them out," Thomas said, his smirk widening as he waved a handzily. "All of them. Now."


    The hefty men moved like a swarm, grabbing arms and shoving bodies toward the exit. A maid sobbed as she was dragged away, her apron slipping to the floor. A security guard tried to stand his ground, only to be pushed back with a forceful shove. Eliana¡¯s heart raced as one of the men loomed over her, his meaty hand reaching for her arm.


    "Don¡¯t you dare touch me!" Sarai¡¯s voice broke through the chaos, sharp andmanding. She stood tall, her glossy ck hair gleaming in its sleek bun, her designer heels nted firmly on the floor. "I can walk myself out, thank you very much." Her green eyes shed with defiance, but there was something else there¡ªa flicker of satisfaction, a secret delight that no one else seemed to notice. She smoothed her dress and sauntered toward the door, her chin held high.


    Jason, meanwhile, was not soposed. As one of the men grabbed his arm, he jerked free, his hazel eyes zing. "Get your hands off me!" he shouted, swinging a fist that connected with the man¡¯s jaw. The guard staggered back, but two more closed in, their faces unyielding. "You think you can just throw us out like trash?" Jason snarled, his blonde hair falling into his eyes as he squared his shoulders. "This is bullshit!"


    Eliana barely registered themotion. Her world had narrowed to the sight of her father, frail and trembling, as two men grabbed his arms. "No!" she screamed, lunging forward. "Don¡¯t touch him! He¡¯s sick!" But her pleas were drowned out by the chaos. Rough hands seized her, dragging her toward the towering entrance. She kicked and twisted, her ts slipping on the marble, her curls bouncing wildly. "Papa!" she cried, her voice raw with desperation.


    Frank stumbled as he was pushed forward, his thin frame no match for the men¡¯s strength. "Eliana!" he called, his voice breaking. "Stay calm, sweetheart. We¡¯ll figure this out."


    The grand doors loomed ahead, the night air rushing in as they were shoved outside. The gravel crunched underfoot, the cold biting at Eliana¡¯s skin through her thin dress. The domestic staff huddled together, some sobbing, others cursing under their breath. The security guards stood in a defeated line, their radios silent.


    Jason appeared at Eliana¡¯s side, his jaw clenched as he grabbed her hand. "Come on," he said, his voice tight with anger. "You and Frank, get in my car. We¡¯re getting out of here."


    Sarai was already at the car, her arms crossed, her face emotionless. She slid into the front passenger seat without a word, her silence unnervingly out of character. Eliana helped her father into the backseat, her hands shaking as she buckled his seatbelt. "It¡¯s okay, Papa," she whispered, though her voice trembled. "We¡¯ll be okay."


    Jason mmed the driver¡¯s door and peeled out of the driveway, the tires screeching as the mansion¡¯s gates faded into the distance. The city lights blurred past, a dizzying dance of neon and shadow. Frank leaned back, his breathing ragged. "Thank you, Jason," he said, his voice sounding really small. "You didn¡¯t have to help us."


    Jason¡¯s grip tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles strained. "Those people are jerks," he said, his tone sharp. "I¡¯m sure it¡¯s just a misunderstanding. It¡¯ll all blow over soon, Frank. You¡¯ll see."


    Eliana stared out the window, her heart a tangled mess of grief and betrayal. Jason¡¯s hazel eyes rested on hers for a few seconds through the rear view mirror, warm and reassuring, but it did little to ease the ache in her chest. "Don¡¯t worry, El," he said softly, "I¡¯ve got you."


    Sarai remained silent, her gaze fixed on the road ahead, her lips pressed into a thin line. The car was heavy with unspoken words, the tension thick enough to choke on.


    Frank sighed, rubbing his temples. "Jason, can you drop me at my supermarket? I need to grab a few things. Clear my head."


    "Sure thing," Jason said, his voice steady. "No problem."


    The drive to Frank¡¯s supermarket was a blur, the city lights fading into the familiar glow of the small strip mall. But as they pulled into the parking lot, Eliana¡¯s stomach dropped. A crowd had gathered outside¡ªstaff in their green aprons, customers clutching reusable bags, all staring at the store with wide, disbelieving eyes. At the entrance, a line of hefty men in dark suits blocked the doors, their arms crossed, their faces as impassive as stone.


    Frank¡¯s breath hitched. "What the hell..." He fumbled with the door handle, his movements frantic. Eliana followed, her heart sinking as she stepped out of the car. The cold night air stung her tear-streaked cheeks, and the weight of the day crashed over her like a bus.


    "Papa," she whispered, her voice trembling as she grabbed his arm. "What¡¯s happening?"


    Frank didn¡¯t answer. His eyes were fixed on the supermarket¡ªhis life¡¯s work, his pride¡ªnow guarded like a fortress. The crowd¡¯s murmurs grew louder, a chorus of confusion and anger. Eliana¡¯s pulse raced, her mind spinning with questions. First Keh¡¯s death, then the eviction, and now this? What was happening to their world?


    The car door mmed behind them as Jason and Sarai stepped out, their silhouettes stark against the neon glow. The night felt alive with secrets, and Eliana¡¯s heart pounded with the certainty that nothing would ever be the same.

 Chapter 9: Ruined

    <h4>Chapter 9: Ruined</h4>


    The neon glow of Frank Bet¡¯s supermarket spilled across the cracked parking lot, drowning everything in a harsh, buzzing light. A restless crowd swarmed outside, murmuring like bees around a broken hive, their breath curling in the cold night air. Desperation clung to them like a second skin.


    Frank shuffled forward, his thin body swallowed by an old, threadbare jacket. Despite the tremble in his hands, there was a stubborn set to his jaw as he faced the line of burly men guarding his store¡¯s entrance. Years of struggle carved deep lines into his weathered face, but his eyes still burned with a flicker of fight.


    Eliana hurried behind him, curls bouncing with every step, her eyes wide with fear. She reached out as if to steady him but pulled back, her fingers curling into her palm. Near the car, Jason and Sarai hovered in the shadows, their silhouettes sharp and still against the flickering neon, watching the chaos unfold with silent dread.


    Frank stopped just a few feet away from them. Their dark suits swallowed the neon light, turning them into towering shadows. The tallest one, built like a tower with eyes as cold and unfeeling as steel, red down at him without so much as a blink. The restless murmurs of the crowd fell away, leaving a heavy, consuming silence as tension coiled around them like a snake ready to strike.


    "Excuse me," Frank began, his voice raspy but firm, "what¡¯s going on here? This is my store. Why are you blocking the doors?"


    The tower-looking man tilted his head, his lips curling into a smirk that looked really scary. "Your store?" he said, his voice low and mocking. "Not anymore, Mr. Bet. This property belonged to thete Mr. Keh Holloway. We¡¯re here to confiscate it on behalf of his children."


    Frank¡¯s breath caught, his eyes widening as if the ground had split beneath him. "Confiscate?" he stammered, his hands rising to clutch at his chest. "That¡¯s impossible! Keh gave me the deed to this supermarket. It¡¯s mine, legally mine!"


    The man exchanged a nce with his colleagues, their faces impassive. "The deed, you say?" he drawled, crossing his arms. "Mr. Holloway wasn¡¯t in his right mind when he signed that over. You¡¯ll need to return it. If you want to fight this, take it to court. But for now¡ª" he gestured toward the parking lot with azy flick of his hand¡ª"you need to evacuate the premises."


    Frank¡¯s knees buckled, and he crumpled to the asphalt like a log. A choked sob tore from his throat, raw and guttural, echoing in the stunned silence. The crowd gasped, some stepping back, others craning their necks to gawk. Eliana dropped to her knees beside him, her hands trembling as she gripped his shoulders. "Papa!" she cried out, her voice splintering like shattered ss. Tears streaked down her warm brown cheeks, glinting under the neon lights like tiny shards of sorrow. "Please, Papa, don¡¯t do this. We¡¯ll find a way, I swear. Just... please."


    Frank¡¯s sobs shook his frail body, his hands wing at the cold ground as if he could pin himself to the life slipping away. "It¡¯s gone," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Everything... my store... my pride..."


    Jason stood frozen a few paces away, his eyes wide with shock, his golden-boy charm dimmed by the scene unfolding before him. His jaw twitched, but no words came. Sarai, however, stood poised like a statue, her glossy ck bun gleaming under the lights. Her green eyes glinted with something sharp¡ªamusement, perhaps, or triumph¡ªthough her lips remained pressed into a thin, neutral line. A faint smirk flickered at the corner of her mouth, gone so quickly it might have been a trick of the light.


    Eliana¡¯s gaze darted to the tower-looking man, who watched the scene with detached amusement. "Papa,e on," she urged, her voice trembling as she tugged at Frank¡¯s arm. "Let¡¯s go home. We¡¯ll rest, and we¡¯ll¡ª"


    "Home?" the man interrupted, his voice cutting through her words. He stepped forward, his boots crunching on the gravel. "I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s not yours either, Miss Bet. The house was also a gift from Mr. Holloway. It¡¯s being reimed."


    Eliana froze, her hands still on her father¡¯s shoulders. Her breath hitched, her eyes snapping up to meet the man¡¯s. "What?" she whispered, her heart hanging by a tread.


    "You heard me," he said, his smirk widening. "You¡¯ve got one week to clear out your belongings. After that, we¡¯ll remove them by force. Consider it a courtesy."


    Eliana¡¯s shock shattered into fury. She surged to her feet, her slender frame trembling with rage. "This is wrong!" she shouted, her voice ringing across the parking lot. "You can¡¯t just take our home, our livelihood! This is an infringement on our rights!"


    The manughed, a deep, mocking sound that sent a chill down her spine. "Rights?" he said, stepping closer until he loomed over her. "Take it to court, sweetheart. But let me assure you¡ªyou and your daddy won¡¯t win."


    The crowd¡¯s murmurs grew louder, a mix of outrage and confusion. A woman in a green apron clutched her reusable bag, her eyes brimming with tears. A teenage cashier whispered to his friend, his face pale. The hefty men moved forward, their presence a silentmand. "Clear out!" one of them barked, waving his arms. "All of you, now!"


    The crowd scattered like leaves in a storm, some stumbling, others cursing under their breath. Eliana helped Frank to his feet, her hands gentle but firm. His face was pale, his eyes hollow. Jason hurried over, his jaw still tight, and gripped Frank¡¯s other arm. "Come on, Frank," he said, his voice low. "Let¡¯s get you to the car."


    Sarai sauntered over, her heels clicking on the asphalt. "Oh, baby," she said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "This is just awful. I can¡¯t imagine what you¡¯re going through."


    Eliana managed a weak nod, her throat too tight to speak. Jason guided Frank to the car, settling him into the backseat. Eliana slid in beside her father, her hands sped tightly in herp. Jason took the driver¡¯s seat, and Sarai imed the front passenger side again, her posture as regal as ever.


    As the car pulled out of the lot, Jason nced at Eliana through the rearview mirror. "Everything¡¯s gonna be alright, El," he said, his voice warm but strained. "This is just a mix-up. You¡¯ll see."


    Sarai turned slightly, her eyes softening as she looked back. "Absolutely," she said, her tone smooth as silk. "You two are so strong. You¡¯ll get through this."


    Frank stared out the window, his breathing shallow. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "Both of you."


    Eliana¡¯s heart ached, her mind a whirlwind of grief and fear. She reached for her father¡¯s hand, squeezing it gently. "We¡¯ll figure it out, Papa," she whispered, though the words felt hollow.


    The drive to their house¡ªtheir soon-to-be-lost house¡ªwas silent, the city lights blurring past in streaks of color. When they pulled into the driveway, the modest home loomed like a ghost, its familiar warmth now tainted by the threat of loss. Jason parked and turned to Eliana, his hazel eyes searching hers. "I¡¯d stay, El, but my parents just called. They need me home right away. I¡¯ll call you tomorrow, okay?"


    Eliana nodded, her throat tight. "Okay," she said softly. "Thanks, Jason."


    Sarai leaned over, her expression one of practiced concern. "I¡¯d love to stay, Eliana, but I¡¯ve got a test first thing tomorrow. I need to study. You understand, right?"


    "Of course," Eliana said, forcing a small smile. "You¡¯ve done so much already. Thank you, Sarai."


    "Drive safe," she added, her voice trembling as she watched them climb back into the car. Jason gave her a reassuring wave, and Sarai offered a delicate smile before the car pulled away, its taillights fading into the night.


    Eliana turned to her father, who stood slumped in the driveway, his eyes fixed on the house. "Come on, Papa," she said gently, looping her arm through his. "Let¡¯s get inside."


    They shuffled toward the front door, the porch light spreading it¡¯s soft glow over the peeling paint and cracked steps. Eliana fumbled with her keys, her hands still shaking, and pushed the door open. The familiar scent of roses and old wood greeted them, a cruel reminder of the life they were about to lose.


    Frank stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over the cozy living room¡ªthe faded couch, the framed photos, the supermarket¡¯s first dor bill mounted on the wall. His face crumpled, and he sank to the floor with a heavy thud, his knees hitting the hardwood. "It¡¯s all gone," he whispered, his voice breaking. "The store... this house... everything Keh gave us..."


    Eliana gasped, dropping to her knees beside him. "Papa!" she cried, her heart lurching. She wrapped her arms around him, her tears soaking into his jacket. The weight of the day¡ªthe eviction, the supermarket, the house¡ªsettled down on her like a stone, threatening to crush her. But as she held her father, her quiet strength flickered, a spark in the darkness.


    The night closed in around the little house, its secrets and sorrows locked within its walls. For Eliana and Frank, their world had crumbled, and the path ahead was shrouded in uncertainty.

 Chapter 10: No Way Out

    <h4>Chapter 10: No Way Out</h4>


    The dawn broke over Eliana Bet¡¯s small, soon-to-be-lost home. The morning was heavy with the scent of dew-soaked grass, but inside, the atmosphere was smothering, thick with despair. Eliana sat at the worn kitchen table, her honey-brown eyes scanning a crumpled notepad filled with frantic scribbles¡ªphone numbers, addresses, and desperate ns. Her long, curly ck hair was pulled into a messy bun, strands clinging to her tear-streaked face. Across from her, Frank Bet slumped in his chair, his frail frame trembling as he sipped weak tea, his eyes distant and hollow.


    "Papa, we¡¯re not giving up," Eliana said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. She reached across the table, squeezing his hard fingers. "I¡¯ve got a list of people to call today. Lawyers, maybe even someone from Mr. Holloway¡¯s estate. We¡¯ll fight this."


    Frank¡¯s gaze flickered to her, his lips parting in a weak smile. "You¡¯re so much like your mother when she was kind," he murmured, his voice raspy. "Always believing things can be fixed."


    Eliana¡¯s heart clenched at the mention of the mother, who had abandoned them years ago. She forced a smile, pushing the pain down. "We¡¯ll fix this, Papa. I promise."


    But promises were fragile, and the next three days tested their strength. Eliana threw herself into action, her slender frame darting through the city like a determined sparrow. She made calls until her voice grew hoarse, pleading with legal aid offices and local advocates. Most hung up when they heard the name Holloway, their tones shifting from polite to curt, as if the mere mention of the billionaire¡¯s family was a curse. By the third day, Frank¡¯s condition worsened. The fever that had gued him for years returned with a vengeance, his skin burning to the touch, his breaths shallow andbored. Eliana found him that morning copsed in the living room, clutching his chest, his face contorted in pain.


    "Papa!" Eliana screamed, dropping to her knees beside him. Her hands fumbled for her phone, dialing 911 as tears blurred her vision. "Stay with me, please, Papa, don¡¯t leave me!"


    The paramedics arrived in a blur of sirens and urgency, their boots thudding against the hardwood floor. They lifted Frank onto a stretcher, his frail body looking impossibly small. Eliana clung to his hand as they wheeled him out, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. At the hospital, the sterile scent of antiseptic and the hum of machines surrounded her as she sat by Frank¡¯s bedside, watching the rise and fall of his chest. The doctor, a tired woman with graying hair, delivered the news with clinical precision: a heart attack,pounded by his chronic fever and stress. He needed rest, medication, and a miracle.


    Eliana¡¯s world tilted, but she refused to crumble. "I¡¯ll find a way," she whispered to her sleeping father, brushing a damp cloth across his forehead. "I¡¯ll talk to Mr. Holloway¡¯s children. They have to listen."


    *********


    The next day, Eliana stood outside the towering ss building of Holloway Enterprises, Margaret Holloway¡¯s domain. The structure gleamed like a monument, its reflective surface mocking her pathetic life. She clutched a folder of documents¡ªproof of Keh Holloway¡¯s gifts to her father, letters of gratitude, anything that might sway Margaret¡¯s heart. Taking a deep breath, she pushed through the revolving doors, her steps echoing in the marble lobby.


    At the reception desk, a woman with a severe bun and a tailored zer eyed her skeptically. "Name and purpose?" she asked, her voice as cold as the air conditioning.


    "Eliana Bet," Eliana said, straightening her shoulders. "I¡¯m here to see Margaret Holloway. It¡¯s about my father, Frank Bet, and¡ª"


    "Ms. Holloway doesn¡¯t take unscheduled meetings," the receptionist interrupted, her manicured nails clicking on the keyboard. "Do you have an appointment?"


    "No, but it¡¯s urgent," Eliana pleaded, her voice cracking. "Please, just tell her it¡¯s about Keh Holloway¡¯s estate. She¡¯ll want to hear this."


    The receptionist sighed, picking up the phone. After a brief, whispered conversation, she pointed to a sleek elevator. "Fifteenth floor. Don¡¯t waste her time."


    The elevator ride felt like an eternity, the mirrored walls reflecting Eliana¡¯s anxious expression. When the doors opened, Margaret Holloway stood waiting, a formidable woman in her fifties with sharp cheekbones and a navy power suit. Her gray eyes assessed Eliana like a predator sizing up prey.


    "Ms. Bet," Margaret said, her voice clipped. "I understand you¡¯re here about my father¡¯s... gifts." The word dripped with disdain.


    Eliana swallowed, clutching her folder. "Yes, ma¡¯am. My father, Frank, worked for your father for years. Mr. Holloway gave us our home, our store. Now they¡¯re being taken away, and my father¡¯s in the hospital. Please, I¡¯m begging you to reconsider."


    Margaret¡¯s lips curled into a thin smile. "Begging," she repeated, stepping closer. "Do you know how many peoplee crawling to us, iming my father promised them something? You¡¯re nothing special, Ms. Bet. Just another leech clinging to his legacy."


    Eliana¡¯s face flushed, but she held her ground. "I¡¯m not a leech. My father earned everything we had. He loved Mr. Holloway like family."


    "Family?" Margaretughed, a sharp, brittle sound. "You think you¡¯re family? You¡¯re a charity case, nothing more. Get out of my office before I have security drag you out."


    Humiliation burned in Eliana¡¯s chest as she stumbled back to the elevator, Margaret¡¯sughter echoing behind her. But she wasn¡¯t done. The next stop was Thomas Holloway¡¯spany, a tech startup housed in a trendy loft space with exposed brick and neon signs. Thomas, the youngest Holloway, was known for his charm and ruthlessness. Eliana hoped he¡¯d be more sympathetic.


    She was wrong.


    Thomas¡¯s office was a chaotic blend of modern art and tech gadgets, with floor to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Thomas, a lean man in his thirties with slicked-brown hair and a tailored zer, leaned back in his chair, smirking as Eliana stood before him, her folder trembling in her hands.


    "Oh, if it isn¡¯t the little ¡¯granddaughter¡¯ my father took a shine to," Thomas drawled, his eyes raking over her in a way that made her skin crawl. "What¡¯s this about, sweetheart? Come to beg for scraps?"


    Eliana¡¯s jaw tightened, but she forced her voice to remain steady. "Mr. Holloway, I¡¯m here about the house and store my father was given by your father. They¡¯re being taken from us, and my father¡¯s in the hospital. I¡¯m asking for your help to stop this."


    Thomas chuckled, standing and circling his desk like a shark. "Help? Oh, darlin¡¯, you¡¯re barking up the wrong tree. My old man was a soft touch, giving handouts to every sob story that came his way. But me? I don¡¯t y that game."


    Eliana¡¯s heart sank, but she pressed on. "It wasn¡¯t a handout. My father worked for your father for years. He trusted us, cared for us. Please, Mr. Holloway, I¡¯m not asking for charity¡ªjust fairness."


    Thomas stopped inches from her, his breath hot and reeking of coffee. "Fairness? Let¡¯s talk about what¡¯s fair. You¡¯re a pretty little thing, aren¡¯t you? Maybe we could work something out." His hand grazed her arm, and Eliana flinched, stepping back.


    "Don¡¯t touch me," she said, her voice shaking with fury and fear.


    Thomasughed, his eyes glinting with malice. "Oh,e on, don¡¯t be shy. A girl like you, desperate and all alone? I could make things real easy for you. Just say the word."


    Eliana¡¯s stomach churned, and she bolted for the door, her folder falling to the floor in her haste. Thomas¡¯sughter chased her down the hall, a cruel echo that lingered as she stumbled into the street, tears streaming down her face. She ran until her legs burned, the city blurring around her, her pride and hope in tatters.


    ********


    Back at the hospital, Eliana sat by Frank¡¯s bedside, her hands sped tightly as she watched the monitors beep. She had onest hope: awyer rmended by a nurse. The office was a cramped space downtown, with peeling wallpaper and a flickering fluorescent light. Thewyer, a balding man named Mr. Morris, listened to her story with a bored expression.


    "I¡¯ll be blunt, Ms. Bet," he said, leaning back in his creaky chair. "The Holloways are untouchable. They¡¯ve got money,wyers, and influence. You could fight, but it¡¯ll cost you¡ªten grand upfront, minimum. And honestly? You¡¯d lose. They always win."


    Eliana¡¯s heart plummeted. "Ten thousand?" she whispered. "I don¡¯t have that kind of money."


    "Then don¡¯t waste my time," Morris said, already turning to hisputer. "Move on, kid. Find a new ce to live."


    ********


    The week ended like a guillotine¡¯s fall. Eliana packed their belongings in silence, each item¡ªa chipped mug, a faded photo, the supermarket¡¯s first dor bill¡ªcarrying the weight of their crumbling life. Frank, discharged but frail, sat in a wheelchair, his eyes fixed on the floor. The threat of forced eviction loomed, and Eliana had no choice. They had to leave.


    She thought of Jason and Sarai, her best friends, her fianc¨¦, her anchors. Her fingers hovered over her phone, aching to call them, to beg for help. But pride¡ªand their silence since the night they dropped her and her father off¡ªstopped her.


    They¡¯re busy, she told herself, conjuring excuses. Jason¡¯s got his family, Sarai¡¯s got her sses and tests. Excuses shielded her from the truth.


    With nowhere else to go, Eliana took her father back to the hostel where she lived. She was still a student, after all, and this was the only ce she could think of. Frank looked around in silence as she helped him inside, his shoulders hunched with exhaustion. Eliana set their few belongings down by her bed and guided him to sit, trying to ignore the ache building in her chest.


    This wasn¡¯t how things were supposed to be. Her father, once so strong and proud, now sat before her looking lost and fragile. She swallowed the tightness in her throat and forced a small smile.


    This¡¯ll do for now, Papa," she whispered, crouching down to untie his shoes. "But... we¡¯ll be okay here. I promise."


    Frank didn¡¯t respond. He only stared at the floor with empty eyes, as if all the light in him had burned out long ago.


    Eliana took a shaky breath and turned away to unpack, blinking back tears. She had no idea how she would keep her promise this time.


    As night fell, the house echoed withughter and arguments from the helps. Elianay awake, staring at the chandelier, her mind racing. The hostel was a temporary refuge, but it¡¯s luxurious, fragrant atmosphere hinted at new troubles brewing. For Eliana and Frank, their world had changed, and the path ahead was a maze of uncertainty.

 Chapter 11: A Snitch

    <h4>Chapter 11: A Snitch</h4>


    Eliana Bet¡¯s knees pressed into the plush carpet as dawn streamed through the towering windows of her hostel, drenching the room in warmth. The soft chairs, the air scented heavily with roses and sandalwood, and the glittering chandeliers above... none of it mattered. It was all beauty wrapped around brokenness.


    Frank sat perched on the edge of her queen-sized bed, dwarfed by the luxury. His shoulders curved forward, his thin fingers woven tightly together as he tried to stop their tremors. Once, those hands had lifted her high into the air, making her believe she could touch the sky. Now they trembled just trying to hold on.


    "Papa, I¡¯ve got lectures today," Eliana said softly, her eyes searching his face for a spark of the man he used to be. She adjusted the thin nket over his knees, her fingers brushing against the rough fabric of his sweater. "I can¡¯t miss them, but I won¡¯t be gone long. Promise. If you¡¯re hungry, just ask the staff for something to eat, okay? They¡¯re nice here."


    Frank¡¯s gaze lingered on the floor, his gray eyes dull, as if the weight of their losses had drained the light from them. "Alright, Eli," he murmured, his voice sounding very small. "You go. I¡¯ll be fine."


    Eliana¡¯s heart twisted, but she forced a smile, her full lips trembling slightly. "We¡¯ll figure this out, Papa. I swear." She leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, her curly ck hair falling like a curtain around them. With a final nce, she grabbed her backpack, and hurried out the door, her sneakers squeaking against the polished floor.


    The hostel¡¯s grandeur faded behind her as the chauffeur drove her toward campus. Her mind was a tangled mess of worry and determination, so she didn¡¯t notice the sleek ck car pulling into the hostel¡¯s driveway, nor the figure that stepped out, her glossy jet-ck hair pulled into a wless high bun.


    ******


    Sarai Monroe sauntered into the hostel, her designer heels clicking sharply against the marble. She¡¯d forgotten her favorite silk scarf in her room¡ªa careless oversight that irritated her. Her sharp green eyes scanned the living room, expecting the usual quiet elegance, but froze when theynded on Frank, slumped on the cream-colored velvet couch. His faded clothes shed starkly with the room¡¯s pristine luxury, and Sarai¡¯s lips curled into a barely concealed sneer.


    "Oh my God," she said, her voice dripping with honeyed warmth as she approached, her emerald earrings catching the light. "Mr. Bet, what a surprise to see you here." She perched on the armrest of a nearby chair, crossing her legs with practiced grace. "How¡¯s your health? And how are you and Eliana holding up with... everything?"


    Frank looked up, his tired eyes softening at her kindness. "Oh, Sarai, you¡¯re sweet to ask," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "It¡¯s been rough, you know. Losing the house, the store... and my health ain¡¯t what it used to be. But Eliana, she¡¯s strong. Keeps me going."


    Sarai¡¯s smile widened, though her eyes remained cold. "Of course she is. Eliana¡¯s always been... resilient." She leaned forward, her tone soothing. "Don¡¯t you worry, Mr. Bet. Everything¡¯s going to be just fine. You¡¯ll see."


    Frank nodded, a flicker of hope crossing his face. "Thank you, Sarai. Means a lot, you being so kind."


    "Oh, it¡¯s nothing," she said, standing and smoothing her tailored zer. "You rest now." She turned, her smile vanishing the moment her back was to him. Her heels clicked furiously as she stormed down the hall to her room, her expression twisting into a mask of rage<i>. How dare she?</i> she thought, her manicured nails digging into her palms. <i>Bringing that pathetic old man here, letting him sit on our couch like he belongs in this world?</i>


    Inside her room, Sarai yanked her phone from her purse, her fingers trembling with fury as she dialed a number she knew by heart. The line connected, and a gruff voice answered. "Miss Monroe? What can I do for you?"


    "Mr. Caldwell," Sarai said, her voice low and sharp, "we have a problem. Eliana Bet has gone and brought her father to live here at the hostel. Her father, of all people, sitting on our furniture, touching our things. He¡¯s not used to ces like this, he¡¯s just a garbage collector. He could ruin everything¡ªscratch the floors, break something, drive down the property value if anyone finds out someone like him was here."


    Caldwell, the hostel¡¯s head of security and a man indebted to Sarai¡¯s father for past favors, cleared his throat. "That¡¯s... concerning, Miss Monroe. We can¡¯t have that. What do you suggest?"


    Sarai¡¯s lips curled into a wicked smile. "Just get him out. Quietly. And, Caldwell? Don¡¯t mention my name. Eliana¡¯s my friend, and I¡¯d hate for her to think I¡¯m betraying her trust. I¡¯m only telling you this because I care about this ce."


    "Of course, Miss Monroe," Caldwell said, his tone deferential. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Consider it handled."


    "You¡¯re wee," Sarai purred. "Just doing my duty as a responsible resident." She ended the call, tossing her phone onto her bed with a triumphantugh. "Oh, Eliana," she said aloud, her voice dripping with venom. "You think you can waltz into our world, y the perfect little princess, and steal Jason from me? You¡¯ll regret ever trying to belong here."


    ******


    Twenty minutester, the hostel¡¯s front doors swung open with a gust of authority. Caldwell, a burly man in a crisp suit, marched in with two security guards nking him, their boots thudding against the marble. Frank looked up, startled, as they approached, their faces stern.


    "Mr. Bet," Caldwell said, his voice clipped, "you need to leave. Now."


    Frank¡¯s brow furrowed, confusion clouding his eyes. "Leave? But... Eliana said I could stay. This is her ce, ain¡¯t it?"


    "This is a private residence," Caldwell snapped, "and you¡¯re not authorized to be here. Let¡¯s go. Don¡¯t make this harder than it needs to be."


    From the hallway, Sarai watched, her arms crossed, her expression one of feigned concern. "Oh, Mr. Caldwell, is everything okay?" she called, stepping forward with wide, innocent eyes. "What¡¯s happening to poor Mr. Bet?"


    "Just handling a situation, Miss Monroe," Caldwell replied, not meeting her gaze. "Nothing to worry about."


    Sarai ced a hand over her heart, her voice trembling with fake distress. "Oh, I hope he¡¯s alright. It¡¯s just so sad, isn¡¯t it?" She turned away, hiding a smirk as the guards grabbed Frank¡¯s arms, hoisting him from the couch as they hustled him toward the door like a discarded piece of trash.


    "Wait, please," Frank protested, his voice weak but desperate. "I ain¡¯t causing no trouble. Just let me call Eliana¡ª"


    "Out," one of the guards barked, shoving him through the ss doors. They stepped onto the manicuredwn, the gates looming ahead. "Don¡¯t loiter around here, old man, or we¡¯ll call the cops. Understand?"


    Frank stumbled, catching himself against the gate, his breath ragged. Tears welled in his eyes, spilling down his weathered cheeks as he fumbled for his phone. His trembling fingers dialed Eliana¡¯s number, his heart pounding with shame and fear.


    "Eli?" he said when she answered, his voice breaking. "It¡¯s me. They... they kicked me out. I¡¯m outside the hostel. Please,e back."


    ******


    In a lecture hall across town, Eliana sat hunched over her notebook, her pencil scratching furiously as she tried to focus on her professor¡¯s droning voice. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she nced at it, seeing her father¡¯s name. The moment she answered and heard his sobs, her heart plummeted, a cold dread seizing her chest.


    "Papa? What¡¯s wrong?" she whispered, her voice trembling.


    "They kicked me out," Frank repeated, his words choked with tears. "I don¡¯t know why, Eli. I didn¡¯t do nothin¡¯."


    Eliana¡¯s breath caught, her eyes darting around the room as panic surged through her. Without a word, she shoved her books into her bag and bolted from her seat, ignoring the professor¡¯s shout¡ª"Ms. Bet, where do you think you¡¯re going?"¡ªas she sprinted down the aisle. Her sneakers pounded the linoleum, her curls bouncing wildly as she raced out of the building, her heart hammering with fear and fury.


    <i>Who did this? </i>she thought, tears stinging her eyes as she ran toward the hostel, the city blurring around her. <i>And why?</i>


    The sun dipped low, spreading across the hostel¡¯s pristine gates, where Frank stood alone, his frail figure trembling in the evening chill. For Eliana, the maze of uncertainty had just grown darker, and the betrayal she couldn¡¯t yet name was closing in.

 Chapter 12: A Caring Lover

    <h4>Chapter 12: A Caring Lover</h4>


    Eliana Bet hopped into a cab the moment she left school, barely giving the driver directions before slumping into the backseat. As soon as the cab rolled to a stop in front of her hostel, she threw a few bills at the driver, swung the door open, and bolted out. Without wasting a second, she sprinted toward the hostel gates. Her sneakers pped against the pavement, each step a desperate drumbeat echoing the panic in her chest. Her honey-brown eyes, wide with dread, glistened with unshed tears, and her long hair whipped wildly in the evening breeze. The city blurred past¡ªhonking cars, distantughter, the hum of streetlights flickering to life¡ªbut all she could see was her father¡¯s frail silhouette in her mind, alone and trembling outside the hostel¡¯s iron gates.


    When she reached the entrance, her heart shattered. There stood Frank, his thin frame hunched against the cold metal bars, hisrge woven sweater pping like a tattered g in the wind. His weathered face, etched with lines of hardship, was streaked with tears, and his trembling hands clutched a crumpled paper bag that held his few belongings. The sight of him¡ªso small, so broken¡ªwed at Eliana¡¯s soul. She skidded to a stop, her breath hitching as she dropped her backpack and rushed to him.


    "Papa!" she cried, her voice cracking as she threw her arms around him. His body felt fragile, like brittle twigs beneath her embrace, and the faint scent of his familiar aftershave mingled with the damp chill of the air. "What happened? Why are you out here?"


    Frank¡¯s lips quivered, his gray eyes swimming with shame. "Eli, they... they told me to leave," he said, his voice shaking. "Said I don¡¯t belong here. I didn¡¯t mean no trouble, I swear."


    Eliana¡¯s heart lurched. She pulled back, cupping his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing away his tears. "You don¡¯t have to belong anywhere but with me," she said fiercely, though her voice trembled. She turned to the two security guards standing like stone sentinels by the gate. Caldwell, the head of security, loomed over them, his burly frame intimidating in his crisp ck suit, his arms crossed and his face a mask of indifference.


    "Please, Mr. Caldwell," Eliana pleaded, stepping forward, her hands sped as if in prayer. "This is my father. He¡¯s not causing any trouble. He¡¯s sick, and he just needs to stay with me for a few nights. Just a few nights, I promise."


    Caldwell¡¯s eyes narrowed, his jaw tight. "Miss Bet, the rules are clear. This is a private residence, and we can¡¯t have unauthorized guests. An extra person stretches the property¡¯s resources¡ªwater, electricity, space. It¡¯s a liability. You should¡¯ve cleared it with management."


    "But he¡¯s my father!" Eliana¡¯s voice rose, sharp with desperation. "He¡¯s not some stranger off the street. He¡¯s not going to ruin anything. Please, just let him stay. I¡¯ll take full responsibility."


    The second guard, anky man with a buzzcut, snorted. "Rules are rules,dy. You want special treatment, take it up with the board."


    Eliana¡¯s hands balled into fists, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to keep herposure. "This isn¡¯t about special treatment. This is about decency. He¡¯s an old man, for God¡¯s sake!"


    Frank tugged at her sleeve, his voice soft and pleading. "Eli, don¡¯t fight ¡¯em. I¡¯ll... I¡¯ll figure somethin¡¯ out. Don¡¯t want you gettin¡¯ in trouble."


    "No, Papa," she said, whirling to face him, her eyes zing. "You¡¯re not going anywhere. This is my home, and you¡¯re staying with me."


    The argument was interrupted by the low rumble of an engine. A shiny ck Mercedes rolled up to the gate, its headlights bright and blinding even with thete afternoon sun dulling it¡¯s shine. The driver¡¯s door swung open, and Jason Asher stepped out, his blonde hair catching the glimmers of sunlight. His hazel eyes scanned the scene, and his lips curled into a faint grimace as he took in Eliana¡¯s tear-streaked face and Frank¡¯s pitiful figure. In his tailored jacket and designer jeans, Jason looked every bit the golden boy, but the sight of his fianc¨¦e begging at the gate like amon vagrant made his stomach churn. <i>This is embarrassing, </i>he thought, adjusting his watch with a flick of his wrist. <i>She¡¯s my fianc¨¦e, for Christ¡¯s sake. People will talk.</i>


    "Eliana, what¡¯s going on?" Jason called, striding over with a practiced air of concern. His voice was smooth, but there was a sharp edge to it, like a de hidden in butter. He¡¯d juste from an overnight party with his friends¡ªtoo much champagne, too manyte-night confessions¡ªand the faint scent of whiskey clung to him.


    Eliana¡¯s face lit up at the sight of him, relief flooding her. She rushed to him, throwing her arms around his neck, her voice trembling with emotion. "Jason, thank God you¡¯re here. They kicked Papa out. They won¡¯t let him stay, even for a few nights. I told them he¡¯s my father, but they don¡¯t care. They said he¡¯s a liability!"


    Jason stiffened in her embrace, his jaw tightening as he nced at the guards, then at Frank, who stood shivering by the gate. "A liability?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow at Caldwell. "What¡¯s this about?"


    Before Caldwell could respond, a familiar figure emerged from the hostel¡¯s grand entrance. Sarai Monroe glided toward them, her glossy ck hair pulled into a sleek bun, her emerald eyes glinting with feigned concern. Her designer heels clicked against the pavement, and her crimson dress hugged her curves like a second skin. "Oh my goodness, Caldwell won¡¯t still let your father into the house?" she gasped, pressing a manicured hand to her chest. "Eliana, is everything okay? I thought this issue had been cleared an hour ago. Poor Mr. Bet, out here in the cold!"


    Eliana¡¯s eyes softened at Sarai¡¯s voice, her trust in her friend unwavering despite the sting of the situation. "Sarai, they won¡¯t let Papa stay," she said, her voice breaking. "I don¡¯t know what to do."


    Sarai¡¯s lips parted in a perfect imitation of shock, but her eyes flickered with triumph. "That¡¯s awful," she said, her tone dripping with syrupy sympathy. "Mr. Caldwell, surely there¡¯s something we can do? Eliana¡¯s family, after all."


    Caldwell cleared his throat, his gaze darting to Sarai before settling on Jason. "Mr. Asher, as I was exining to Miss Bet, the hostel has strict policies. An extra person, especially someone... unustomed to this environment, could disrupt the property¡¯s standards. We can¡¯t allow it."


    Jason¡¯s jaw clenched, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. The idea of his fianc¨¦e¡¯s father¡ªa former garbage collector, no less¡ªbeing tossed out like trash in front of the hostel was a blow to his carefully curated image. He could already imagine the whispers at the country club, the snidements from his friends.<i> Jason Asher¡¯s fianc¨¦e, begging like a street rat. Pathetic.</i>


    "Alright, enough," Jason said, his voice sharp as he held up a hand. He turned to Eliana, forcing a smile that didn¡¯t reach his eyes. "Eli, don¡¯t worry about this. I¡¯ll handle it. You and your dade with me. I¡¯ll find him a ce to stay tonight."


    Eliana¡¯s eyes widened, gratitude flooding her. "Jason, really?" she whispered, her voice heavy with gratitude. She threw her arms around him again, burying her face in his chest. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I knew you¡¯d understand."


    Frank shuffled forward, his voice hoarse but sincere. "Jason, I... I don¡¯t know how to thank you. You¡¯re a good man, lookin¡¯ out for my Eli like this."


    Jason nodded curtly, his smile tight. "Don¡¯t mention it, Frank. Let¡¯s just get you settled." He nced at the guards, his tone clipped. "We¡¯re done here."


    Sarai stood frozen, her arms crossed, her eyes narrowing as she watched the scene unfold<i>. A ce to stay?</i> she thought, her nails digging into her palms. <i>Jason, you idiot. You¡¯re supposed to let her crash and burn, not y the hero</i>. Her lips twitched, but she forced a smile, stepping closer to Eliana. "Oh, Jason, that¡¯s so kind of you," she said, her voice sharine. "Eliana, you¡¯re so lucky to have him."


    Eliana smiled weakly, still clinging to Jason¡¯s arm. "I know," she said softly, her eyes shining with trust. "I don¡¯t know what I¡¯d do without him."


    As Jason led Eliana and Frank toward his car, Sarai lingered by the gate, her smile fading into a scowl. The guards exchanged a nce, sensing the storm brewing behind her perfect facade. For Eliana, the day was a blur of gratitude and relief, but for Sarai, it was a spark igniting a fire of rage. The game was far from over, and she was determined to win.

 Chapter 13: The Shadow Fighter

    <h4>Chapter 13: The Shadow Fighter</h4>


    Night had already wrapped itself around the Grand Meridian Hotel when Jason Asher¡¯s car glided into its elegant circr driveway. Eliana and her father, Frank, stepped out into the soft glow of the entrance lights. The hotel¡¯s towering ss walls shimmered like a giantntern against the dark sky.


    They followed Jason inside, Eliana clutching her father¡¯s thin arm as they walked. Her sneakers squeaked on the polished marble floor with every step. Beside her, Frank moved at a weary pace, shoulders hunched, his faded simple sweater looking painfully out of ce amidst the gleaming tiles and golden chandeliers. But Eliana didn¡¯t care. All she wanted was to get him upstairs and let him rest.


    Jason strode ahead, his tailored jacket pristine, his blonde hair catching the light like a halo. He shed a charming smile at the concierge, a young woman who blushed under his gaze. "I need a suite for my fianc¨¦e¡¯s father," he said smoothly, sliding his ck credit card across the counter. "One week, top-tier. Make itfortable."


    Eliana¡¯s honey-brown eyes widened, her heart swelling with gratitude. "Jason, you don¡¯t have to do this," she whispered, her voice trembling as she squeezed his arm. "This ce... it¡¯s too much."


    Jason turned to her, his hazel eyes softening for a moment, though a flicker of impatience danced beneath the surface. "Eli, don¡¯t worry about it," he said, his tone warm but clipped. "Your dad needs a ce to rest. I¡¯ve got this."


    Frank, his voice hoarse from a lingering cough, reached out a trembling hand. "Son, I... I don¡¯t know how to thank you. You¡¯re a saint for takin¡¯ care of my girl like this."


    Jason forced a smile, his jaw tightening. "It¡¯s nothing, Frank. Let¡¯s get you settled." He gestured to a bellhop, who scurried over to take Frank¡¯s little bag containing his clothes. As the elderly man was led toward the elevator, Eliana threw her arms around Jason, burying her face in his chest. The faint scent of whiskey clung to his shirt, but she didn¡¯t notice, too overwhelmed by relief.


    "You¡¯re my hero," she murmured, her voice muffled against him. "I don¡¯t know what I¡¯d do without you."


    Jason patted her back, his smile strained. "Yeah, yeah, let¡¯s just get through this, okay?" In his mind, a storm brewed. <i>This is getting messy, </i>he thought. <i>She¡¯s my fianc¨¦e, but this... this is too much. People are going to talk.</i>


    *******


    Across town, in the sleek, modern offices of Wallen Properties, Sarai Monroe sat poised in a leather chair, her crimson manicured nails tapping rhythmically on the shiny mahogany desk. Her nice hair was swept into a high bun as always, and her emerald eyes glinted with almost concealed venom. The office smelled of expensive coffee and ambition, its floor-to-ceiling windows offering a view of the city skyline. Across from her sat Mrs. Eleanor Vance, the stern-faced manager of Wallen Properties, her silver hair pulled into a tight chignon. At fifty-two, Eleanor carried herself with the authority of someone who¡¯d spent decades curating exclusivity.


    Sarai leaned forward, her voice smooth as butter butced with malice. "Mrs. Vance, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve noticed the... decline in the hostel¡¯s reputationtely," she began, her lips curling into a sympathetic smile. "I hate to say it, but Eliana Bet is at the center of it."


    Eleanor¡¯s brow furrowed, her pen pausing over a notepad. "Miss Monroe, what exactly are you talking about?"


    Sarai sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. "It¡¯s just... tragic, really. Ever since Mr. Holloway¡¯s passing, Eliana¡¯s lost everything. She can barely afford a decent meal this days, let alone the hostel¡¯s fees. And then¡ªoh, this is the worst part¡ªshe tried to sneak her father, a former garbage collector, into the property. Can you imagine? The other residents are appalled. They¡¯re saying <i>the hostel is letting in just anybody now."</i>


    Eleanor¡¯s lips thinned, her eyes narrowing. "That¡¯s a serious usation, Miss Monroe. Miss Bet has been a resident for years, and Mr. Holloway was quite fond of her."


    "Was," Sarai said pointedly, leaning closer. "But he¡¯s gone, and Eliana¡¯s no longer under his protection. People are talking, Mrs. Vance. They¡¯re saying the hostel¡¯s standards are slipping. If you don¡¯t act, the reputation you¡¯ve worked so hard to build could crumble."


    Eleanor tapped her pen against the desk, her expression hard to read. After a long pause, she nodded. "I¡¯ll look into this immediately. Thank you for bringing it to my attention, Miss Monroe."


    Sarai¡¯s smile was triumphant, though she masked it with a look of concern. "Of course, Mrs. Vance. I just want what¡¯s best for the hostel." As she rose, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor, a single thought burned in her mind: Eliana, you¡¯re so done.


    Three dayster, Eliana stood in the hostel¡¯s lush courtyard, her phone pressed to her ear, her heart plummeting with every word from the Wallen Properties representative. The voice on the other end was cold, professional, and unrelenting. "Miss Bet, your presence has disrupted the property¡¯s value and causedints from other residents. You¡¯re required to vacate the premises within two days. Your remaining payments will be refunded, but you are not to return."


    Eliana¡¯s knees buckled, and she sank onto a stone bench, the phone slipping from her hand. The courtyard, with its blooming roses and trickling fountain, felt like a cruel mockery of her unraveling life. <i>Why is this happening?</i> she thought, her mind spiraling. <i>First Papa, now this? What did I do wrong?</i>


    She stumbled back to her room, her vision blurred with tears. The hostel¡¯s hallways, once a symbol of the stability Keh Holloway had gifted her, now felt like a maze closing in. She copsed onto the plush sofa in the shared living room, her sobs echoing off the high ceilings. Sarai, who¡¯d been lounging with a fashion magazine, looked up, her green eyes widening in feigned shock.


    "Eliana, oh my God, what¡¯s wrong?" Sarai rushed to her side, pulling Eliana into her arms. "Baby, talk to me!"


    Eliana clung to her, her voice breaking. "They¡¯re kicking me out, Sarai. Wallen Properties called. They said I¡¯m... I¡¯m damaging the hostel¡¯s reputation. They want me gone in two days. I don¡¯t understand! I¡¯ve always paid on time, I¡¯ve never caused trouble¡ª"


    Sarai stroked her hair, her voice dripping with false warmth. "Oh, honey, that¡¯s awful! How could they do this to you? You¡¯re practically family here." She tilted Eliana¡¯s chin up, meeting her tear-streaked gaze. "Don¡¯t worry, okay? We¡¯ll figure this out. I¡¯m here for you."


    Eliana managed a weak smile, her trust in Sarai unwavering despite the chaos. "Thank you, Sarai. I don¡¯t know what I¡¯d do without you."


    Sarai¡¯s lips twitched, her smile masking the triumph surging through her. <i>Perfect</i>, she thought. <i>She¡¯s breaking, just like I wanted.</i>


    That evening, the living room was bathed in the soft light of a crystal chandelier, its light catching the gold ents of the furniture. Eliana sat curled on the sofa, her face buried in Sarai¡¯sp, her sobs quieter now but no less raw. Sarai, in a silk blouse and tailored trousers, yed the role of devoted friend, her fingers gentlybing through Eliana¡¯s curls.


    The front door swung open, and Jason strode in, his eyes scanning the scene. His gym-toned frame filled the doorway, his blonde hair slightly tousled from the evening breeze. "What the hell¡¯s going on?" he demanded, his voice sharp with irritation.


    Eliana lifted her head, her eyes red and swollen. She rushed to him, throwing her arms around his neck. "Jason, they¡¯re kicking me out," she choked out, her voice trembling. "Wallen Properties called today. They said I¡¯m ruining the hostel¡¯s reputation, that I have to leave in two days. I don¡¯t know what to do!"


    Jason froze, his arms stiff around her. In his mind, a war raged. <i>This is a disaster, </i>he thought<i>. If anyone finds out my fianc¨¦e¡¯s being tossed out like trash, it¡¯ll be all over the country club. I¡¯ll be aughingstock</i>. But as he looked into Eliana¡¯s tear-filled eyes, something unexpected stirred¡ªa pang of affection he hadn¡¯t felt in months.<i> Damn it, why can¡¯t I just cut her loose from my life?</i>


    Forcing a smile, he cupped her face. "Eli, don¡¯t worry about it. We¡¯ll figure this out. You¡¯re not alone, okay?"


    Eliana sniffled, nodding. "Okay. I just... I feel so lost."


    Sarai watched from the sofa, her arms crossed, her expression angry. Jason¡¯s gaze flicked to her, then back to Eliana. Suddenly, his face lit up, as if struck by a brilliant idea. "Wait a second," he said, his voice brightening. "Why don¡¯t youe live with me? My home has plenty of room. You¡¯ll be safe there, Eli. No more worrying about hostels or payments."


    Eliana¡¯s eyes widened, a flicker of hope breaking through her despair. "Jason, are you serious? You¡¯d do that for me?"


    "Of course," he said, his smile widening, though his mind screamed, <i>What am I doing?</i>


    Sarai¡¯s mouth dropped open, her green eyes zing with shock and fury. <i>Live with him? </i>she thought, her nails digging into her palms. <i>No, this wasn¡¯t the n! </i>She forced augh, her voice tight. "Wow, Jason, that¡¯s... so generous. Eliana, you¡¯re so lucky to have him."


    Eliana turned to Sarai, her face glowing with gratitude. "I know. I don¡¯t deserve him."


    Sarai¡¯s smile was brittle, her mind racing. <i>Oh, Eliana, </i>she thought. <i>You¡¯re going to regret this.</i> As Jason pulled Eliana into another embrace, Sarai¡¯s eyes narrowed, the shadow of her next move already forming.

 Chapter 14: Humiliation

    <h4>Chapter 14: Humiliation</h4>


    <strong>Three Days Later </strong>


    The Asher estate rose before them like something out of a movie ¨C all white columns, wide balconies, and endless manicuredwns that shimmered under thete summer sun. Eliana Bet felt small standing there, clutching one of the two old duffel bags stuffed with everything the Holloways had let them keep. Their borrowed pickup truck looked painfully out of ce against the pristine cobblestone driveway.


    She looked over at her father. For years, money had never been a problem. Keh Holloway had made sure of that, always sending enough to keep themfortable, to keep her father¡¯s treatments going without worry. But no amount of money could buy back a failing body. Even then, when their fridge was full and they didn¡¯t have to worry about a roof over their heads, Frank had still coughed into his handkerchief just like he did now.


    Except now, there was no one left to help.


    Frank leaned against her, his shoulders trembling with eachboured breath. His frame felt so light, so fragile, like he¡¯d disappear if she let go. Deep lines etched into his face spoke not of poverty, but of pain ¨C years of silent battles with a body that refused to heal. And with Keh gone, so was the money that had kept him afloat all this time. Still, his eyes held a soft eptance, as if he had long given up fighting whatever life threw at him.


    Eliana¡¯s chest tightened as she took it all in. The mansion was too grand, too perfect. She felt like a stray kitten left at the gates of a pce.


    Inside, the foyer practically glittered. The marble floors reflected a massive chandelier hanging above them, each crystal catching the light like little stars. The faint scent ofvender polish lingered in the air, clean and expensive.


    Jason Asher stood waiting for them, shifting his weight nervously. Usually, he carried himself with that easy golden-boy confidence everyone envied at school, but right now, he just looked unsure. His hazel eyes flicked from Eliana to his parents, as if hoping they¡¯d guide him through this moment.


    Valerie Asher stepped forward first, arms stretched out like she was about to embrace an old friend rather than two people who clearly didn¡¯t belong in her world. Her silver-blonde hair was swept back into an elegant bun that didn¡¯t dare move out of ce. Beside her, Richard Asher stood like a statue in his crisp tailored suit, giving them a curt nod that felt more like an inspection than a greeting.


    Eliana felt her knees tremble slightly under the weight of it all, but she squeezed her father¡¯s arm and forced herself to stand taller.


    "Eliana dear, Frank, wee!" Vrie voice was syrupy, her smile a touch too wide. "We¡¯re just heartbroken about your situation. This is your home now, for as long as you need."


    Eliana¡¯s lips curved into a grateful smile, though her heart clenched. "Thank you, Mrs. Asher. We... we don¡¯t know how to repay you."


    "Nonsense," Richard said, his tone clipped but not unkind. "You¡¯re Jason¡¯s fianc¨¦e. That makes you family."


    Frank coughed, his voice raspy. "We¡¯re mighty grateful, sir. Won¡¯t be a burden, I promise."


    Jason stepped forward, his hand resting lightly on Eliana¡¯s shoulder. "It¡¯s temporary, Eli. We¡¯ll figure it all out, okay?" His words were warm, but his touch felt fleeting, like a breeze that slipped through her fingers.


    The first week felt like stepping into a dream. Vrie went all out, throwing a grand dinner with the table set in flickering candlelight and crystal sses that caught every glow. Eliana sat beside Jason in a dress Vrie had lent her ¨C it was a little too big, slipping off her thin shoulders, but she didn¡¯t care. Her dark curls were pinned back to show her small, heart-shaped face. Across from her, Frank looked a little better after some days of proper rest. He managed a faint smile as he slowly spooned his soup, his hands still shaky but steadier than before.


    The Ashers spent the evening telling stories about charity events and big business deals, their voices smooth with sympathy as they spoke of Eliana¡¯s "poor situation." Eliana held onto their kindness like it was life itself, her chest warm with the hope that maybe, just maybe, they had found a ce where they finally belonged.


    But that hope didn¡¯tst long.


    On the tenth day, everything changed. Eliana was passing by the study when Vrie¡¯s cold, angry voice slipped through the thick wooden door like a knife to her heart.


    "No inheritance? Not a single cent from Keh Holloway? Jason, how could you bring these... these paupers into our home?"


    Richard¡¯s baritone rumbled in agreement. "We thought she was connected, Jason. You said she was Holloway¡¯s heir!"


    Eliana froze in the hallway, her hand clutching the tray of tea she¡¯d been asked to bring. Her stomach churned, the porcin cups rattling faintly. She wanted to run, to hide, but her feet were rooted to the spot.


    Jason¡¯s voice was defensive, almost whiny. "I didn¡¯t know, okay? I thought she¡¯d at least have something!"


    Vrie¡¯sugh was cold. "Well, she doesn¡¯t. And now we¡¯re stuck with her and that sickly father of hers. This is an embarrassment, Jason."


    The tray slipped from Eliana¡¯s hands, crashing to the floor in a symphony of shattered porcin. The noise brought Vrie storming out, her hazel eyes zing. "Eliana! What are you doing, eavesdropping like some servant?"


    "I¡ªI wasn¡¯t," Eliana stammered, her cheeks burning. "I was just bringing the tea¡ª"


    "Clean it up," Vrie snapped, her voice like a whip. "And don¡¯t expect the staff to do it for you. You¡¯re not a guest anymore."


    That evening, the Asher household transformed into a golden cage. Frank, still weak from histest bout of illness, was summoned to the kitchen. Eliana found him there, hunched over a sink full of dishes, his hands trembling as he scrubbed. Her heart broke at the sight¡ªher proud, gentle father reduced to a servant in a house that had promised them refuge.


    "Papa, no," Eliana whispered, rushing to his side. "You¡¯re not well. You shouldn¡¯t be doing this."


    Frank¡¯s eyes, clouded with fatigue, met hers. "Beggars can¡¯t be choosers, Eliana. They¡¯re letting us stay. We gotta pull our weight."


    "But this isn¡¯t right!" Eliana¡¯s voice cracked, tears brimming. "They said they¡¯d take care of us until we can bounce back on our feet."


    Frank managed a weary smile. "Life ain¡¯t fair, darlin¡¯. We¡¯ll make do. Always have."


    Eliana wanted to scream, to storm upstairs and demand answers, but her father¡¯s quiet strength tethered her. She grabbed a sponge, joining him at the sink, her hands shaking with suppressed rage and shame.


    Meanwhile, Jason¡¯s betrayal cut deeper than his family¡¯s¡¯ cruelty. In the privacy of his sleek, modern bedroom, hey tangled in silk sheets with Sarai Monroe, her pretty ck hair spilling across the pillow. Her green eyes glinted with triumph as she traced a finger along his jaw. "You¡¯re really letting her stay here, Jason? After everything?"


    Jason sighed, his blonde hair mussed. "It¡¯s not like I had a choice, Sarai. If I kicked her out, it¡¯d look bad. You know how people talk."


    Sarai¡¯sugh was sharp, like breaking ss. "Oh, please. You¡¯re just too weak to cut her loose. You love ying the hero, don¡¯t you?"


    Jason¡¯s jaw tightened, but he didn¡¯t deny it. "It¡¯s temporary. I¡¯ll figure out a way to get her out."


    "You¡¯d better," Sarai purred, her nails digging into his arm. "Because I¡¯m not sharing you forever."


    Downstairs, Eliana sat alone in the dim library, shadows curling around her like a cold nket. Everything felt so unreal and terrifying, wrapping around her chest until she could barely breathe. She¡¯d reached out to Jason earlier, just wanting to feel his hand in hers, to remind herself she wasn¡¯tpletely alone. But he¡¯d pulled away like her touch burned him. "I¡¯m just tired, Eli," he mumbled, brushing past without even looking at her. His rejection left her aching inside, a raw painyered over the quiet humiliation of scrubbing floors all day under Valerie¡¯s sharp, mocking gaze.


    The library door creaked open, and Sarai glided in, her designer heels clicking against the hardwood. She wore a green dress that hugged her curves, her sleek bun gleaming under themplight. "Eliana, there you are!" she cooed, her voice dripping with false concern. "I¡¯ve been looking everywhere for you."


    Eliana looked up, her eyes red-rimmed but hopeful. "Sarai, I... I don¡¯t know how much more I can take. They¡¯re treating Papa like a servant, and Jason¡ªhe won¡¯t even look at me."


    Sarai sank onto the velvet settee beside her, her hand resting on Eliana¡¯s. "Oh, baby, I¡¯m so sorry. This must be so hard." Her tone was tender, but her eyes gleamed with calction. "You know, maybe it¡¯s time to think about what¡¯s best for you. This ce... it¡¯s not good for you or Frank."


    Eliana¡¯s eyebrows drew together. "But where would we even go, Sarai?" she asked quietly. "We don¡¯t have anything left. Grandpa Keh¡¯s supermarket is gone. Every single gift he ever gave us, all the money papa invested from those gifts... it¡¯s all gone. His children took everything from us. There¡¯s nothing left."


    Sarai tilted her head, her smile sympathetic but razor-sharp. "You¡¯re stronger than this, Eliana. You don¡¯t need to stay here, groveling for scraps. Maybe it¡¯s time to start fresh, somewhere new. I could help you find a ce."


    Eliana¡¯s heart lifted slightly, her trust in Sarai blinding her to the venom beneath the words. "You¡¯d do that for us?"


    "Of course," Sarai said, her voice smooth as silk. "You¡¯re my best friend. I hate seeing you like this."


    As Sarai spoke, her mind raced with ns. She¡¯d already contacted a shadyndlord willing to rent a rundown apartment to Eliana¡ªone far from the Asher estate, far from Jason. Also a perfect job for someone like her. If Sarai could push Eliana out, she¡¯d have Jason to herself, and Eliana¡¯s humiliation would beplete.


    The next morning, Eliana stood in the kitchen, apron stained, her hands raw from scrubbing pots. Vrie swept in, her perfume choking the air. "Eliana, this floor is filthy," she snapped, pointing to a spotless tile. "Do it again. And tell your father to stop dawdling in the garden. He¡¯s not here to rest."


    Eliana bit her lip, swallowing her pride. "Yes, Mrs. Asher."


    As Vrie left, Jason appeared, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. Eliana reached for his hand, desperate for a shred of warmth. "Jason, can we talk? Please?"


    He pulled away, his hazel eyes avoiding hers. "Not now, Eli. I¡¯ve got a meeting."


    Her voice trembled. "You¡¯re always busy. I just... I need you."


    He sighed, irritation shing across his face. "I¡¯m doing my best, okay? Just... deal with it for now."


    As he walked away, Eliana¡¯s knees buckled, and she sank to the floor, the weight of her father¡¯s humiliation and Jason¡¯s rejection crushing her. She was suffocating, trapped in a house that despised her, with nowhere to run. Yet, deep within her, a spark of resilience flickered¡ªa quiet strength that whispered she was more than this golden cage, more than the ashes of her broken dreams.


    <i>I need to get Papa out of this house,</i> she thought. <i>Maybe Sarai was the answer. Maybe she was the only way to finally make it happen.</i>

 Chapter 15: The Kindness of Sarai

    <h4>Chapter 15: The Kindness of Sarai</h4>


    Morning crept over the Asher estate, painting the mansion in warm gold. Inside the cramped servant¡¯s quarters, Eliana Bet hunched over a rickety table, scribbling a quick reminder to herself. Her slender shoulders slumped with exhaustion, and her honey-brown eyes, usually alive with quiet hope, looked tired and distant. She¡¯d tied her curls back in a messy bun to keep them out of her way, but loose strands still framed her weary face.


    The past five days felt like one endless blur¡ªscrubbing marble floors until her knees ached, dodging Vrie Asher¡¯s sharp, hateful looks, and holding tight to the only thing keeping her upright: Sarai Monroe¡¯s promise. A job. A lifeline. A fragile hope that maybe this glittering prison of gold and betrayal wouldn¡¯t swallow her whole.


    "Sarai, did you hear back about that job?" Eliana asked, her voice soft butced with worry as she caught her friend in the grand foyer. The marble floor sparkled under Sarai¡¯s designer heels, and her deep red dress clung to her like liquid silk, swaying gently as she moved. Gold earrings dangled from her ears, catching the morning light with every tilt of her head. Her sleek ck bun was wless as always, and her pretty eyes carried that same warm look Eliana hade to rely on ¨C a warmth that never quite reached the depths of her soul.


    Eliana never thought to wonder why Sarai spent so much time at Jason¡¯s house these days. In her naive hope, she only saw a friend willing to help her, never questioning whaty beneath the perfect smile and expensive perfume.


    "Oh, Eli, I¡¯m still looking, sweetheart," Sarai cooed, her voice smooth as honeyced with arsenic. She ced a manicured hand on Eliana¡¯s shoulder, her nails catching the light like tiny daggers. "It¡¯s got to be perfect for you, you know? Something... fitting. Just give me a little more time."


    Eliana¡¯s lips curved into a grateful smile, her naivety a shield against Sarai¡¯s veiled malice. "Alright, Sarai. Thank you. I just... I really need this."


    "Of course, darling," Sarai purred, her smile sharp enough to cut steel. "I¡¯ve got you."


    But Eliana wasn¡¯t one to sit idle. The next morning, she slipped out of the Asher estate before the sun rose, her sneakers crunching against the gravel drive. She scoured the city, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination. Her qualifications were meager¡ªa high school diploma and nothing else¡ªbut she knocked on every door, from diners to retail shops, her hope fraying with each polite rejection. By noon, her feet ached, and her modest blouse clung to her sweat-dampened skin. At a small, bustling coffee shop called Brewed Awakening, she finally found a flicker of opportunity.


    "You ever worked a register before?" the manager, a lean man with a coffee-stained apron, asked, eyeing her skeptically.


    "No, sir," Eliana admitted, her voice steady despite the knot in her stomach. "But I¡¯m a fast learner, and I¡¯ll work harder than anyone you¡¯ve got."


    He grunted, unimpressed but desperate for staff. "Fine. Sales girl. Minimum wage. Can you start tomorrow?"


    "Yes!" Eliana¡¯s face lit up, though her mind raced with worries¡ªher sses, her father¡¯s worsening health, the tuition bills piling up like a noose. Still, she shook his hand, her grip firm. "Thank you. I won¡¯t let you down."


    The job was grueling. Eliana juggled early morning shifts at the coffee shop withte-night study sessions, her eyes burning fromck of sleep. The tips barely covered bus fare, let alone the medical bills mounting for her father, Frank, whose fever had worsen, also his cough had deepened into a rattling, ominous sound. Back at the Asher estate, she pleaded with Jason one evening, catching him in the hallway, his gym bag slung over his shoulder, his blonde hair still damp from a shower.


    "Jason, please," Eliana said, her voice trembling as she reached for his arm. "Papa¡¯s medicine... it¡¯s so expensive. Can you help? Just this once?"


    Jason¡¯s eyes flickered with irritation, his usual charm dimming. "Eli, I¡¯m not a bank," he snapped, pulling his arm free. "I¡¯m doing enough letting you stay here. Figure it out."


    Her heart sank, the rejection a fresh wound. "I¡¯m trying, Jason. I just thought¡ª"


    "Yeah, well, think less and do more," he muttered, brushing past her toward the garage, his sneakers squeaking against the shiny floor.


    Two weekster, Frank¡¯s health plummeted. Eliana found him one morning in the servant¡¯s quarters, his face pale, his breath shallow. She knelt beside him, her hands trembling as she pressed a cool cloth to his forehead. "Papa, we¡¯re getting you to the hospital," she whispered, her voice thick with tears.


    "We can¡¯t afford it, darlin¡¯," Frank rasped, his eyes clouded with pain. "Don¡¯t worry ¡¯bout me."


    But worry was all Eliana had left. Her coffee shop wages were a drop in the bucket against the hospital bills. Desperate, she turned to Sarai again, finding her in the mansion¡¯s sunlit conservatory, sipping chamomile tea, her green eyes glinting like a cat¡¯s.


    "Sarai, I¡¯m begging you," Eliana said, her voice raw. "Papa¡¯s so sick. I can¡¯t do this alone. Did you find anything yet?"


    Sarai set her teacup down with a delicate clink, her lips curving into a smile that was all teeth. "Oh, Eliana, I was just about to call you. I found the <i>perfect</i> job." She leaned forward, her voice dripping with false sincerity. "A caregiver position for a man named Rafael Vexley. He¡¯s blind, crippled, and... well, let¡¯s just say he¡¯s a challenge. But the pay¡¯s decent, and it¡¯s steady work."


    Eliana¡¯s eyes widened, hope ring despite her exhaustion. "Really? Oh, Sarai, thank you! You¡¯re a lifesaver!"


    Sarai¡¯s smile twitched, amusement flickering in her eyes. Rafael Vexley was a puzzle no one wanted to solve. People barely knew anything about him, but his reputation said enough ¨C a cold-blooded tyrant with a rage so brutal he¡¯d scared off every caregiver who dared to step into his world. She¡¯d chosen him deliberately, a perfect torment for Eliana¡¯s bleeding heart. "Anything for my best friend," Sarai said, her voice smooth as silk. "And, good news¡ªI found you and Frank a ce. It¡¯s... modest, but it¡¯s yours if you want it. It¡¯s at the east end."


    Eliana¡¯s heart leapt, blind to the trap. "A ce of our own? Sarai, I don¡¯t know how to thank you."


    "Don¡¯t mention it," Sarai said, waving a hand, her nails catching the sunlight. "I¡¯ll send you the address. You can move in tomorrow."


    The next morning, Eliana and Frank packed their meager belongings¡ªa few worn clothes, a cracked photo frame of happier times, and Frank¡¯s old Bible. The rundown apartment Sarai had secured was in the city¡¯s roughest neighborhood, a crumbling building with graffiti-streaked walls and a flickering hallway light that buzzed like a dying insect. Eliana¡¯s heart sank as she stepped inside, the air heavy with mildew, the floorboards creaking underfoot. But she forced a smile for Frank¡¯s sake, helping him settle onto a sagging couch.


    "It¡¯s ours, Papa," she said, her voice bright despite the ache in her chest. "We¡¯ll make it home."


    Frank managed a weak nod, his hands trembling. "You¡¯re a good girl, Eliana. Always been."


    Eliana remembered thest time she saw the Ashers before she and Frank left their estate. She had found Jason¡¯s parents in the grand dining room. Vrie was sitting there, sipping her coffee with that same cold elegance, her tinum hair scraped back into a tight chignon. Beside her, Richard sat in silence, his face a mask of indifference, as if nothing in the world could touch him.


    "Mrs. Asher, Mr. Asher," Eliana began, her voice steady despite the knot in her throat. "I just wanted to thank you for letting Papa and me stay here this past month. We¡¯re moving out today, and... I¡¯m grateful for your help."


    Vrie¡¯s lips curled into a sneer, her hazel eyes glinting with disdain. "Good. You¡¯ve overstayed your wee." She extended a manicured hand, her voice sharp. "The ring, Eliana. The one Jason gave you. Hand it over."


    Eliana froze, her fingers instinctively touching the diamond engagement ring on her left hand. It was thest tether to Jason, to the dream she¡¯d once believed in. Her heart stuttered, but Vrie¡¯s gaze was unrelenting. "Now, girl. Don¡¯t make a scene."


    Richard shifted, his silence a heavy endorsement of his wife¡¯s cruelty. Eliana¡¯s eyes stung, but she slipped the ring off, the metal cold against her skin. She ced it in Vrie¡¯s outstretched palm, her fingers trembling. "Here."


    Vrie closed her hand around the ring, her smile triumphant. "Don¡¯te back, Eliana. You don¡¯t belong here."


    Eliana nodded, her throat tight. "I understand." She turned to Frank, who leaned heavily on her arm, his face pale but resolute. "Come on, Papa. Let¡¯s go."


    As they stepped out into the crisp morning air, the heavy oak doors of the Asher estate closed behind them with a final bang. Eliana¡¯s heart ached, but a spark of resilience flickered within her. She didn¡¯t know whaty ahead¡ªRafael Vexley¡¯s temper, the dangers of their new neighborhood, or the weight of her father¡¯s illness¡ªbut she knew one thing: she was stronger than the chains they¡¯d tried to bind her with. With Frank¡¯s hand in hers, she walked toward the uncertain future, her quiet strength a beacon in the gathering storm.

 Chapter 16: A Rough Start

    <h4>Chapter 16: A Rough Start</h4>


    Morning barely touched the east side of the city, its pale sun struggling to break through the heavy smog that hovered over the rooftops. In a cramped, crumbling apartment sat Eliana Bet and her father, Frank, trying to make sense of this new Chapter they hadn¡¯t asked for. Dampness clung to the peeling walls, and every corner whispered of forgotten lives and quiet surrender.


    Eliana spent yesterday unpacking what little they owned, folding faded clothes into rickety drawers and stacking cracked dishes in cupboards that groaned at her touch. Her chest felt hollow the entire time. Jason Asher¡ªshe didn¡¯t even know if she could call him her fianc¨¦ anymore¡ªhadn¡¯t called, hadn¡¯t texted, hadn¡¯t bothered to ask why she¡¯d walked out of his family¡¯s glittering world or where she¡¯d taken her frail father.


    She kept ncing at her phone, at that bright photo of them smiling in the spring sun. It felt like another lifetime. Now, the screen stayed dark in her hand, a silent reminder that she might be the only one holding onto what they once were.


    Jason, meanwhile, was tangled in satin sheets at Sarai Monroe¡¯s penthouse, his golden hair disheveled, his hazel eyes clouded with fleeting guilt. He hadn¡¯t meant to abandon Eliana¡ªnot entirely. He still felt a pang for her, for the girl who¡¯d once made his heart race with her quiet strength and honey-brown eyes. But the weight of his family¡¯s wealth, the sneers of his high-society friends, and Sarai¡¯s whispered promises had pulled him away. "You have to let go. She¡¯s not one of us anymore," Sarai had purred the night before, her eyes glinting as she traced a finger along his jaw. "You deserve better, Jason. Someone who fits."


    "I know," he¡¯d muttered, shoving down the unease in his chest. "But... Eliana¡¯s been through so much. Maybe I should check on her."


    Sarai¡¯sugh was sharp, like ss. "Check on her? Oh, please. She¡¯s probably fine, leeching off someone else¡¯s kindness. Let her go, Jason. You¡¯re an Asher. Act like it."


    He¡¯d nodded, swallowing his guilt, and let Sarai¡¯s lips distract him from the ache. Eliana, he told himself, would survive. She always did.


    Back in the east end, Eliana¡¯s first night in the new apartment had been a descent into chaos. Gunshots cracked in the distance, sharp and jarring, making her jolt upright in the lumpy bed she shared with Frank. At 2:00 a.m., the upstairs neighbor¡¯s screams pierced the night, a tirade against her children that rattled the thin ceiling. Somewhere nearby, music red¡ªthumping bass and screeching vocals that turned the apartment into a nightclub¡¯s echo. Eliana clutched the woven nket, her heart pounding, her eyes darting to Frank¡¯s weak form on the couch. His breathing was shallow, his face pale under the flickering light of a streemp outside.


    "Papa, you okay?" she whispered, slipping out of bed to kneel beside him, her voice trembling.


    Frank¡¯s eyes fluttered open, his smile weak but warm. "Just noise, Eli. Don¡¯t you worry. We¡¯ve faced worse. Go back to bed honey."


    She forced a nod, but fear gnawed at her. This neighborhood, with its violence and decay, could steal what little strength Frank had left. But they had no choice¡ªno money, no options, just this rotting roof over their heads. "We¡¯ll make it work," she said, squeezing his hand. "We always do."


    The next morning, Eliana rose with the dawn, her body heavy with exhaustion but her spirit stubbornly alight. She prepared breakfast in the cramped kitchen¡ªa meager spread of toast and watery coffee, the best she could manage with her dwindling savings. Frank watched her from the couch, his eyes soft with pride.


    "You¡¯re too good to me, Eli," he rasped, taking a sip of the coffee. "This... this is home because of you."


    She smiled, though her heart ached. "Eat up, Papa. I¡¯ve got to get ready for work. Sarai found me a job, and it starts today."


    "A job?" Frank¡¯s brow furrowed. "What kind of job?"


    "Caregiver," she said brightly, hiding her nerves. "For a man named Rafael Vexley. Sarai says it¡¯s steady work. Good pay."


    Frank¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly, but he nodded. "Be careful, Eli. Rich folk can be... unkind."


    "I¡¯ll be fine," she promised, kissing his forehead. In the broken bathroom, where the sink dripped and the mirror was cracked, she bathed quickly, the cold water biting her skin. She slipped into a dress her grandfather had bought her two years ago¡ªa simple but elegant navy frock, its fabric still soft despite its age. It was her armor, a reminder of better days. She brushed her long, curly hair, pinning it back to frame her heart-shaped face, and checked her reflection. "You can do this," she whispered to herself, her brown eyes fierce with determination.


    Bidding Frank goodbye, she grabbed the address Sarai had texted her and stepped into the gritty morning. The taxi ride to Rafael Vexley¡¯s estate was a journey through worlds¡ªfrom the east end¡¯s decay to a realm of unimaginable wealth. When the cab pulled up to the gates of Vexley¡¯s estate, Eliana¡¯s breath caught. The property sprawled like a kingdom, its manicuredwns stretching endlessly, its mansion a monolith of ss and stone that dwarfed the Asher estate tenfold. Marble statues lined the drive, their faces stern, as if guarding secrets. The iron gates loomed, topped with spikes that gleamed in the sunlight.


    Eliana approached the security booth, her heart thudding. Two guards, burly men in crisp uniforms, eyed her curiously. "I¡¯m Eliana Bet," she said, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach. "I¡¯m here for the caregiver position. Mr. Vexley is expecting me."


    The guards exchanged a nce, their expressions hard to decipher. One raised an eyebrow, the other shook his head slightly, a gesture Eliana missed as she clutched the strap of her bag. The first guard muttered into a radio, "New caregiver¡¯s here. Bet." A crackling voice responded, and he nodded. "Go on in," he said, his toneced with something like pity. "Good luck."


    Eliana frowned slightly but thanked them, stepping through the gates. The driveway felt endless, the crunch of gravel under her shoes the only sound besides the distant chirp of birds. The mansion loomed closer, its windows like eyes watching her approach. A butler, stiff and formal, met her at the grand entrance and led her through a foyer that gleamed with marble and crystal. Chandeliers glittered overhead, creating rainbows across the walls. Eliana¡¯s nice dress felt like a rag inparison, but she squared her shoulders, refusing to feel small.


    The butler guided her to a vast living room, its walls lined with bookshelves and modern art, its furniture sleek and cold. At its center sat Rafael Vexley, slumped in a wheelchair, his tall frame draped in a crisp ck suit. His dark, wavy hair fell over his forehead, and his steel-grey eyes¡ªclouded, or so it seemed¡ªstared nkly ahead. He was yelling, his voice a low, venomous growl that sent a chill through Eliana.


    "You call this coffee?" Rafael snapped, his hand gripping a porcin cup. A young maid stood before him, her face pale, her hands sped tightly. "It¡¯s sludge! Do you think I¡¯m some fool who can¡¯t tell the difference?"


    "I-I¡¯m sorry, sir," the maid stammered, her voice trembling. "I¡¯ll make another¡ª"


    "Don¡¯t bother!" Rafael¡¯s arm shot out, hurling the cup at her. The maid gasped, ducking just in time as the porcin shattered against the shiny marble floor, fragments skittering like tiny des.


    Eliana froze, her breath catching in her throat. Her eyes widened, her pulse racing as she took in the scene¡ªthe maid¡¯s trembling form, Rafael¡¯s cold fury, the glittering shards on the floor. Fear coiled in her chest, but she forced herself to step forward, her voice soft but firm. "Mr. Vexley?"


    Rafael¡¯s head snapped toward her, his grey eyes narrowing, though they seemed unfocused, as if he couldn¡¯t see her. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded, his tone sharp enough to cut.


    Eliana swallowed, her hands tightening around her bag. "I¡¯m Eliana Bet. Your new caregiver."


    The maid scurried away, casting a grateful nce at Eliana. Rafael¡¯s lips curled into a sneer, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Another one? What¡¯s this, the fifth this month? Did they warn you I¡¯m a nightmare, Miss Bet?"


    Eliana¡¯s heart pounded, but she met his gaze, her voice steady despite the fear. "They didn¡¯t need to. I can handle a challenge."


    Rafael¡¯sugh was cold, mirthless. "Oh, you¡¯re brave. Or stupid. We¡¯ll see which." He gestured to the shattered cup. "Clean that up. And don¡¯t expect me to thank you."


    Eliana hesitated, her eyes flicking to the shards, then back to Rafael. His face was a mask of disdain, but beneath it, she glimpsed something¡ªpain, perhaps, or loneliness. She knelt, gathering the pieces carefully, her hands steady despite the storm in her chest. This was her new reality, and she¡¯d face it head-on, just as she always had.

 Chapter 17: The Billionaire’s Offer

    <h4>Chapter 17: The Billionaire¡¯s Offer</h4>


    The tension in Rafael Vexley¡¯s luxurious living room felt like a thick nket pressing down on everyone. The sharp smell of coffee mixed with something sour¡ªfear. Eliana Bet knelt on the cold marble floor, her slender fingers trembling slightly as she gathered the jagged shards of the shattered porcin cup. Each piece glinted under the chandelier¡¯s light, catching prisms of color that danced mockingly across her navy blue dress. Her heart thudded, but her face remained a mask of determination, her brown eyes focused on the task despite the storm brewing in her chest.


    A soft rustle pulled her attention. The young maid Rafael had thrown the cup at, slipped back into the room. She knelt beside Eliana, her face pale, her small hands moving quickly to gather thest fragments. Her name tag read "ra," but her wide, frightened eyes said more. She leaned in, whispering so quietly it was almost lost. "You don¡¯t have to do this," she said, her voice trembling. "He¡¯s... he¡¯s not always like this."


    Eliana offered a small, reassuring smile, though her stomach churned. "It¡¯s okay. I¡¯ve got it." Her voice was soft but steady, a quiet strength that belied the uncertainty gnawing at her. Together, they swept the shards into a small pile, the clinking of porcin a stark contrast to the oppressive silence of the room.


    From his wheelchair at the center of the space, Rafael¡¯s voice cut through the silence. "Are you done ying maid, Miss Bet? Or do you need an audience for your charity work?" His tone dripped with sarcasm, each wordced with a venom that made ra flinch. He sat tall despite his supposed frailty, his dark wavy hair falling over his forehead, his steel-grey eyes¡ªclouded, or so it seemed¡ªfixed in her direction. His crisp ck suit was immacte, a stark contrast to the chaos he¡¯d just unleashed.


    Eliana rose, brushing her hands on her dress, and met his gaze, refusing to cower. "I¡¯m done, Mr. Vexley. What do you need now?" Her voice held a calm defiance, though her pulse raced.


    Rafael¡¯s lips curled into a smirk, cold and calcting. "Push me to my room. And be quick about it. I don¡¯t have all day for your dawdling."


    Eliana hesitated, her eyes flicking to ra, who gave a subtle nod toward a hallway beyond the living room. "His room¡¯s that way," ra murmured, her voice barely a breath. "I¡¯ll show you."


    Eliana stepped behind the wheelchair, her hands gripping the handles tightly. The metal was cool under her palms, and the weight of Rafael¡¯s presence was heavier still. She pushed forward, the wheels gliding smoothly over the polished floor, while ra led the way, her footsteps quick and nervous. The hallway stretched endlessly, its walls adorned with abstract paintings in muted golds and blues, their shapes swirling like trapped emotions. Crystal sconces formed soft light, illuminating the path to a pair of double doors carved with intricate patterns of vines and roses.


    ra paused at the doors, her hand hovering over the handle. "This is it," she said softly, her eyes darting to Rafael, who remained silent, his jaw tight. She pushed the doors open, revealing a room that was both breathtaking and austere. A massive four-poster bed dominated the space, its dark wood gleaming under the soft glow of a chandelier. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the estate¡¯s sprawling gardens, where roses bloomed in fiery reds and delicate whites. A mahogany desk sat in one corner, strewn with papers and a sleekptop, while a leather armchair faced a firece that crackled faintly, its warmth doing little to soften the room¡¯s cold grandeur.


    ra gave Eliana a fleeting, sympathetic nce before slipping out, the doors closing with a soft click that echoed like a warning. Eliana stood behind Rafael, her hands still on the wheelchair, her heart pounding in the sudden silence. The room felt like a cage, beautiful but suffocating, and Rafael¡¯s presence filled it like a storm waiting to break.


    "Come closer," Rafael said abruptly, his voice low andmanding. He tilted his head slightly, as if sensing her hesitation. "I want to know what you look like."


    Eliana¡¯s brow furrowed, her fingers tightening on the wheelchair. "What?"


    "I¡¯m blind, Miss Bet," he said, his toneced with mockery, though his expression remained unreadable. "I see with my hands. Let me feel your face."


    Her breath caught, a flush creeping up her neck. The request felt invasive, almost intimate, and yet there was something in his voice¡ªa challenge, perhaps, or a test. She stepped around the wheelchair, her movements slow, her worn dress brushing against her legs. Standing before him, she felt exposed, her heart a frantic drumbeat. Rafael¡¯s hands, long and elegant, reached out, hovering in the air as if waiting for permission.


    "Fine," she said, her voice only a whisper. She leaned forward slightly, her curls falling over her shoulders, and closed her eyes as his fingers brushed her cheek. His touch was surprisingly gentle, tracing the curve of her jaw, the soft slope of her cheekbone, the fullness of her lips. His hands moved to her arms, his fingers grazing the thin fabric of her sleeves, mapping her slender frame with a precision that felt almost clinical. Eliana¡¯s skin prickled, a mix of difort and curiosity swirling in her chest. She opened her eyes, meeting his clouded gaze, and for a moment, she swore she saw a flicker of something¡ªawareness, perhaps, or calction.


    Rafael leaned back, his hands falling to hisp. "You¡¯ll do," he said nonchntly, his voice devoid of warmth.


    Eliana blinked, confusion knitting her brow. "What does that mean?"


    He smirked, a slow, dangerous curve of his lips. "It means, Miss Bet, that I have an offer for you." He paused, letting the silence stretch, his grey eyes fixed on her as if he could see every thought racing through her mind. "Bear me a child. In exchange, I¡¯ll give you a fortune¡ªenough to fix that crumbling life of yours. A new house, cars, connections perhaps. No more scraping by."


    The words hit her like a p, stealing the air from her lungs. Her mouth fell open, her eyes wide with shock. "What?" she choked out, her voice trembling with disbelief. "Are you serious?"


    "Deadly," Rafael replied, his tone cool and unyielding. "I need an heir. It¡¯s obvious you need money. It¡¯s a simple transaction."


    Eliana¡¯s hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. "I¡¯m not a gold digger," she snapped, her voice rising with a mix of anger and humiliation. "And I¡¯m definitely not a prostitute."


    Rafael raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "No? Then what are you, Miss Bet? A saint? A martyr? You¡¯re here, in my house, because you need this job. Don¡¯t pretend you¡¯re above temptation."


    Her cheeks burned, her heart pounding so loudly she thought it might burst. "I¡¯m engaged," she said, her voice shaking but firm. "To someone who actually cares about me. Not that you¡¯d understand what that means."


    Rafael¡¯sugh was sharp, cutting. "Engaged? To that boy who¡¯s probably cheating on you as we speak? Oh, don¡¯t look so shocked. I know his type. Jason Asher, isn¡¯t it? Spoiled, entitled, Hazel eyes and a smile that fools everyone¡ªexcept me."


    Eliana froze, her breath hitching. How did he know about Jason? Her mind raced, but her anger surged hotter. "You don¡¯t know anything about me or him," she spat, stepping back. "I¡¯m not your pawn, and I¡¯m not for sale."


    She turned on her heel, her curls bouncing as she stormed toward the double doors. Her hands shook as she yanked them open, the hinges groaning under her force. Rafael¡¯s voice followed her, calm and mocking. "Run all you want, Miss Bet. But you¡¯ll be back. Poverty has a way of breaking even the proudest hearts."


    Eliana didn¡¯t look back. Her footsteps echoed down the hallway, each one a deration of defiance. Her heart ached, not just from Rafael¡¯s cruel offer but from the seed of doubt he¡¯d nted about Jason. She pushed it down, refusing to let it take root. She was Eliana Bet, and she¡¯d faced worse than a cold-hearted billionaire. But as she stepped out into the blinding sunlight, the weight of his words clung to her like a shadow, whispering that her world was about to unravel.

 Chapter 18: Heartbreaks

    <h4>Chapter 18: Heartbreaks</h4>


    The evening air nipped at Eliana Bet¡¯s skin as she walked down the cracked sidewalk toward home. Rafael Vexley¡¯s words still twisted in her chest, making every step feel heavy. Her old dress slippers scraped against the pavement, each scuff echoing the anger bubbling inside her. <i>Bear me a child. In exchange, I¡¯ll give you a fortune. </i>His cold voice reyed in her mind like a cruel joke, his steel-grey eyes shing with arrogant certainty. Did he really think she could be bought so easily? That her struggles made her cheap? Her cheeks burned with the memory, and she clenched her fists so tight her nails dug into her palms. "Arrogant jerk," she muttered under her breath.


    Eliana climbed the cracked steps up to the fourth floor of the crumbling apartment building she called home. The streets below buzzed with distant shouting and the whine of motorbikes, but up here, only a single streemp flickered in the dark, its dim light spilling over the stained walkway outside. Paint curled away from the walls of her apartment in brittle curls, revealing the splintered wooden door beneath. She slipped her key into the lock and pushed the door open, wincing at the groan of its hinges. The smell inside wrapped around her like a worn nket¡ªold wood, stale air, and the sharp medicinal smell of her father¡¯s cough syrup.


    "Eliana, sweetheart?" Frank¡¯s voice was soft, raspy, his dark eyes searching her face as she dropped her bag by the door. "You¡¯re back early. What happened at that fancy job Sarai got you?"


    Eliana froze, her throat tightening. She forced a smile, though it felt like a lie. "It... wasn¡¯t for me, Papa," she said, her voice quieter than she intended. She crossed the room, kneeling beside him, her hands gently adjusting the nket. "I¡¯ll find something else. Something better."


    Frank¡¯s brow furrowed, his hand trembling as he reached for hers. "You look upset, sweetheart. What¡¯d they do to you up there in that big house?"


    "Nothing worth talking about," she replied, her tone clipped. She couldn¡¯t bear to tell him about Rafael¡¯s proposition, the way it had stripped her bare, exposing her vulnerability. Nor could she admit how much it hurt to walk away from a job Sarai had worked so hard to secure for her. Sarai, her best friend, who¡¯d always had her back¡ªor so Eliana believed. "I just... I couldn¡¯t do it. That¡¯s all."


    Frank studied her, his gaze heavy with concern, but he nodded. "Alright, sweetheart. You¡¯ll figure it out. You always do." His cough broke the silence, sharp and painful, and Eliana¡¯s heart twisted as she handed him a ss of water from the side table.


    "Rest, Papa," she whispered, kissing his forehead. "I¡¯ve got this."


    The next morning, Eliana slipped into her faded apron at the coffee shop, the familiar hum of the espresso machine grounding her. The scent of roasted beans and sugary pastries filled the air, a stark contrast to the sterile luxuriousness of Rafael¡¯s mansion. Her boss, Mr. Dney, a lean man with a perpetually furrowed brow, eyed her as she tied her curls into a messy bun.


    "Eliana, you look like you¡¯ve been through the wringer," he said, wiping down the counter. "Where were you yesterday? Can¡¯t just disappear like that."


    "I¡¯m so sorry, Mr. Dney," Eliana said, her voice earnest. "I was... really sick. Couldn¡¯t even get out of bed. It won¡¯t happen again, I promise."


    He grunted, tossing the rag over his shoulder. "Lucky for you, I¡¯m short-staffed. But don¡¯t pull that again without a call, got it? Next time, you¡¯re out."


    "Yes, sir," she said, relief washing over her. She dove into her shift, steaming milk and scribbling orders, her smile masking the ache in her chest.


    For nine days, life settled into a fragile rhythm. Eliana worked grueling shifts at the coffee shop, her hands stained with coffee grounds, her feet aching from hours on her feet. She attended her college sses when she could, though her professors¡¯ sharp words¡ª"You¡¯re not taking this course seriously, Miss Bet"¡ªcut deeper each time. Her father¡¯s cough worsened, his fevers spiking unpredictably, and their meager savings dwindled on medications that barely helped. Jason still hadn¡¯t reached out, and Sarai ¨C her rock ¨C was oddly silent. Their absence felt like a wound she pretended didn¡¯t exist. But Eliana kept moving forward, holding herself together with a quiet strength, even as the world felt heavier each day.


    <strong>********</strong>


    On the tenth night, Eliana stumbled through the door, her legs heavy from working a double shift. Every muscle in her body ached, and all she wanted was to hear her father¡¯s voice telling her she¡¯d done well. But the house was silent. The dim hallway smelled faintly of stale coffee and old newspapers. Somewhere in the kitchen, a leaky faucet dripped steadily, the only sound echoing in the darkness.


    "Papa? I¡¯m home!" she called out, forcing her voice to sound bright despite the exhaustion weighing it down.


    All she heard was silence.


    A cold prickle ran down her spine. She flicked on the light, her breath catching in her throat. There, sprawled across the worn linoleum floor, was Frank. Her father¡¯s chest was still, his face pale under the flickering bulb.


    "Papa!" The word ripped out of her in a broken scream. She dropped to her knees, her hands trembling as she reached for his wrist, desperate to feel any hint of a pulse. But there was nothing. Tears blurred her vision as she fumbled with her phone, nearly dropping it twice before managing to punch in the numbers.


    "Please," she sobbed when the operator answered, her voice breaking as she tried to form the words. "My father¡¯s not breathing. Please hurry."


    The ambnce arrived in a rush of shing red lights and hurried footsteps. Paramedics poured into the cramped apartment, their uniforms brushing against peeling wallpaper as they moved with calm urgency. Eliana stood back against the wall, her hands clenched so tight her knuckles burned. She whispered broken prayers between her sobs, her eyes locked on the paramedics as they knelt beside her father, attaching wires, checking his pulse, and pushing down on his chest in desperate rhythm.


    Time blurred. The ride to the hospital felt like floating in a nightmare she couldn¡¯t wake from. When they arrived, the harsh smell of antiseptic and the blinding white lights made her stomach twist. Everything felt too clean, too bright, too empty.


    She sat hunched in a steel chair, numb, staring at her hands when a doctor approached. The woman looked tired but kind, with gentle brown eyes and greying hair pulled back into a neat bun.


    "Miss Bet?" she said softly.


    Eliana¡¯s head snapped up, hope and dread warring in her chest.


    "I¡¯m sorry," the doctor continued, her voice calm but edged with urgency. "Your father has pulmonary fibrosis. It¡¯s a serious lung condition ¨C scar tissue builds up and makes it hard to breathe. That¡¯s what caused his coughing, the fevers, and now the fainting."


    Eliana swallowed, her throat raw. "Can you fix it?"


    "If it¡¯s caught early, treatment can help manage it, sometimes even let people live a normal life for years," the doctor said, her eyes softening with pity. "But in his case... it¡¯s progressed significantly. We¡¯ll need to start aggressive treatment right away to give him a chance. And..." She paused, her expression tightening, "it¡¯s going to be expensive."


    Eliana¡¯s chest ached as if her heart itself was cracking under the weight of reality. "How much?" she whispered, barely able to form the words.


    The doctor sighed, her expression weary. "With hospital stays, medications, and possible surgery... it¡¯ll be in the tens of thousands. At least."


    Eliana felt her knees give out, but she grabbed the edge of the steel chair to keep herself upright. Tens of thousands? She didn¡¯t even have enough to cover next month¡¯s rent. No savings. No safety. Just her and Papa, living day to day on tips and double shifts.


    The next morning, desperation gnawed at her chest as she trudged down the street to the coffee shop and straight to Mr. Dney¡¯s office. The man sat behind his battered wooden desk, stacks of unpaid invoices surrounding him like paper towers.


    "Please," Eliana whispered, her voice shaking as she forced herself to meet his tired eyes. "I¡¯m begging you... I just need something upfront, or even a small loan, it¡¯s for my father. He¡¯s... he¡¯s really sick."


    Mr. Dney leaned back with a sigh, rubbing his temples. "Eliana," he said softly, "I¡¯m barely keeping this ce afloat. I don¡¯t have that kind of money. I¡¯m sorry."


    The finality in his tone made her stomach twist with shame and fear. She swallowed hard, nodding as tears burned her eyes. "Thank you anyway," she whispered, backing out of his office before her sobs broke free.


    She spent the rest of the day in a haze of hopelessness. As evening settled in, Eliana pulled out her phone, her hands shaking so badly she almost dropped it. She scrolled to Jason¡¯s name, her thumb hovering over the call button. <i>He might know what to do,</i> she told herself, clinging to the memory of the boy who always came through for her, back when things were good... back when he still cared.


    Taking a shaky breath, she swallowed her pride and pressed call, praying he¡¯d pick up.


    It rang and rang. No answer. She called again. Still nothing.


    Her heart hammering, she switched to Sarai¡¯s number, biting her lip so hard she tasted blood. Sarai would help. She always helped.


    But Sarai didn¡¯t pick up either. Eliana called over and over until her thumbs went numb. By nightfall, neither of their numbers would even ring ¨C blocked, disconnected, gone.


    Eliana sank onto the edge of her mattress, staring nkly at the peeling wallpaper on her wall. The silence in her tiny apartment felt louder than any scream.


    "They¡¯re probably just busy," she whispered to herself, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. She forced herself to take a shaking breath, clinging to the only hope she had left. "They wouldn¡¯t abandon me. Not Sarai. She wouldn¡¯t do that."


    <strong>********</strong>


    On the twelfth day, Eliana stood before her cracked bedroom mirror, tugging down the hem of her dress¡ªa simple pink frock that hugged her slender frame just right. She ran her brush through her curls until they gleamed under the weak bulb¡¯s glow, whispering a shaky prayer. "Please... just let today be different," she breathed, tucking a stray lock behind her ear. She needed Jason and Sarai now more than ever.


    The private hostel where they lived loomed like a fortress, guarded by high walls and iron gates. Security officers patrolled the entrance, men in stiff uniforms who knew her face but she knew they¡¯d never let her through without suspicion. After all, she had been kicked out.


    As she approached, she lifted her chin, forcing her spine straight even though her knees felt weak.


    "Miss Bet, you know the drill," grunted Carl, a stocky guard with a round face and bored eyes. He crossed his arms, blocking her path. "Residents only. Unless you¡¯re on the list."


    Eliana forced out a bright smile, ignoring the tightness in her chest. "I know, Carl, but Sarai asked me to drop off her notes for finals. She¡¯s expecting me. It¡¯s urgent¡ªher professor¡¯s strict about submissions."


    Carl studied her for a moment, his eyes narrowing, before he sighed and waved her in. "Make it quick."


    Relief washed over her like cool water on sunburned skin as she stepped into the hostel¡¯s grand lobby. Marble floors stretched out beneath her feet, polished to a mirror sheen, and crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead. She remembered walking these halls with pride once, back when she still had Grandpa H. The memory burned, but she pushed it down, focusing on her mission.


    She hurried to Jason¡¯s room first, knocking softly. But silence was all she heard. She tried again, pressing her ear to the door, but there was nothing. Her stomach twisted painfully.


    Determined, she turned down the hallway and approached Sarai¡¯s suite. Plush carpet muffled her footsteps as she neared the heavy wooden door. It was slightly ajar, a sliver of warm light spilling out into the hallway.


    She raised her hand to knock, but paused when she heard voices¡ªlow, intimate, familiar in a way that made her chest tighten with dread. Heart hammering, she leaned forward and peered through the gap.


    Inside, Saraiy sprawled across her silk-sheeted bed, her long glossy hair tumbling over the pillows. Jason was above her, his golden hair damp with sweat, his bare shoulders glistening under the softmplight. Sarai¡¯s legs were hooked around his waist as she let out a tinklingugh, a sound both cruel and triumphant.


    "Ahh, Jason, you¡¯re so much better with me," Sarai purred, her manicured nails trailingzy patterns down his back. "Eliana¡¯s just... pathetic. She could never keep up."


    Jason chuckled softly, brushing his lips against her neck. "She¡¯s sweet, yeah. But you¡¯re fire, Sarai. You always have been."


    Something inside Eliana broke with a quiet, devastating snap. Her breath hitched, and she pped a trembling hand over her mouth to keep from sobbing out loud. Tears welled up, blurring her vision until the image of them twisted and melted into cruel colours.


    She stumbled back, the door creaking under her shaky grip, but they didn¡¯t notice. Her fianc¨¦. Her best friends. Tangled together, whispering poison about her between gasps of pleasure.


    The hallway spun around her, the chandelier lights smearing into gold and white streaks as she backed away. Her prayers, her trust, her love¡ªall of it shattered in an instant, leaving nothing but a hollow ache in her chest and a bitter taste of betrayal on her tongue. The world she¡¯d clung to crumbled around her, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but her and the cold, brutal truth.

 Chapter 19: What is Dignity?

    <h4>Chapter 19: What is Dignity?</h4>


    Eliana burst out of the hostel, her chest aching like someone had driven a fist straight through her ribs. Her world felt cracked and broken, her heart splintered into a thousand sharp pieces she couldn¡¯t hold together.


    All she could see was them¡ªJason and Sarai¡ªburned into her mind like an ugly scar. Jason¡¯s mouth pressed against Sarai¡¯s neck, Sarai throwing her head back with that smug littleugh. Their voices rang in her ears, cruel and mocking, tearing through her like ss.


    How could they do this to her? Jason, the man she¡¯d nned her future with, the boy she¡¯d grown up loving. And Sarai¡ªSarai, who¡¯d been like a sister since they were kids, who knew every secret she¡¯d ever whispered in the dark.


    They¡¯d crushed her trust like it was nothing. Thrown it in the dirt and stepped on it while theyughed together.


    Tears streamed down her cheeks, hot against her skin, making the world shimmer and blur. The marble lobby twisted in her vision as she stumbled forward, her old sneakers squeaking and pping against the polished floor.


    Carl, the security guard, just stood there gaping at her, his mouth half-open as if words were trapped on his tongue. She didn¡¯t look at him. She just ran past him into the quiet afternoon, where no one could see her heart breaking.


    "Miss Bet?!"


    Carl finally snapped out of his shock as his voice chased her down the steps, but Eliana didn¡¯t stop. She couldn¡¯t. Her legs moved on their own, pushing her away from that ce, from the truth that felt too heavy to breathe under.


    Cold air burned in her lungs as she ran. Her pink dress clung to her legs, damp with sweat and tears, while her curls bounced wildly around her face. She didn¡¯t even know where she was going¡ªshe just kept running until the hostel lights faded behind her.


    Finally, she slowed to a shaky walk and realized she was in the old park near downtown. The sky was turning cloudy, streaked with fading purple and gold. Ancient oak trees stretched their branches overhead, creating quiet shadows across the worn path.


    The park was empty. Just the whisper of leaves above her and the low hum of distant traffic. It felt like the world itself was holding its breath.


    Eliana dropped onto a splintered wooden bench, her body folding in on itself as sobs ripped out of her chest. She wrapped her arms around her knees and pressed her forehead to them, trying to keep herself from falling apart.


    "They wouldn¡¯t... they couldn¡¯t..." she whispered into the hollow space between her knees. Her voice cracked, trembling with disbelief. Her eyes, puffy and red, stared at nothing as tears dripped onto her dress.


    "Jason promised me forever," she choked out, feeling the words shatter in her throat. "And Sarai... she was my sister. My family."


    But the words felt empty, like she was clutching at smoke. Memories flooded her mind¡ªJason¡¯s warm hazel eyes when he slid that perfect diamond ring onto her finger. Sarai¡¯s bright grin as theyy on the dorm floor braiding each other¡¯s hair until sunrise.


    All of it felt fake now. Lies. Every smile, every promise, every moment they¡¯d given her.


    For five hours, Eliana sat there, lost in her grief. The sky darkened, stars winking into existence, but she didn¡¯t notice. Her tears fell in a steady rhythm, soaking the cor of her dress. When the first raindrops pattered against her skin, she barely registered them. The drizzle turned into a downpour, drenching her curls until they hung in heavy, sopping strands. Her dress clung to her like a second skin, but she didn¡¯t move, didn¡¯t care. The rain mingled with her tears, washing away thest remnants of her hope.


    "Hey, miss! You okay?"


    A voice snapped Eliana out of her daze. She blinked up through blurry eyes to see a woman standing in front of her, holding a bright yellow umbre. She looked to be in her fifties, with a round, kind face wrapped in a floral scarf. Worry creased her eyes as she frowned down at Eliana.


    "You¡¯ll catch your death sitting out here like this," the woman said gently. "Come on, love. Find somewhere warm to go."


    Eliana stared, dazed, as if waking from a dream. The park came into focus¡ªthe rain-slicked bench, the puddles pooling around her feet, the cold seeping into her bones. "I... I¡¯m sorry," she mumbled, her voice hoarse. She stood, wobbling slightly, and the woman reached out as if to steady her.


    "No need to apologize, just get somewhere warm, alright?" the woman said, her tone gentle but firm. Eliana nodded numbly, her feet moving before her mind caught up. She trudged to the nearest bus stop, rain dripping from her fingertips, and boarded a bus to the hospital. She sat in the back, her soaked dress leaving a puddle on the seat, her eyes vacant. She felt like a ghost, hollow and drifting, the world around her muted and gray.


    <strong>**********</strong>


    Meanwhile, across town, in a massive mansion that practically glowed against the dark hills, Rafael Vexley sat in his office by a giant window overlooking the city lights. His wheelchair faced the ss, but his steel-grey eyes¡ªsharp and cold despite what everyone believed about his blindness¡ªwere fixed on the stack of papers spread across his polished mahogany desk.


    Beside him stood James, his assistant. James was the type who never looked ruffled, with his crisp ck suit, neatly trimmed beard, and a tablet glued to his hand. He read off updates in his calm, clipped voice.


    "Mr. Vexley, the merger with Horizon Tech is on track, but we need your approval on the final terms," James said, tapping his stylus against the screen. He hesitated, then added, "Also... it¡¯s been over a week since Miss Betst showed up. Should I start looking for a new caregiver?"


    Rafael¡¯s lips curled into a sardonic smile, his chiseled jaw tightening. He leaned back in his wheelchair, his crisp navy suit impable despite thete hour. "James, don¡¯t waste your time," he said, his voice low and edged with mockery. "Eliana will be back. Everyone has a price, and she¡¯s no different. Money talks, always has."


    James raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "You sure about that, sir? She seemed... different. Not like the others."


    Rafael chuckled, a cold, bitter sound. "Different? Please. She¡¯s just another soul waiting to be bought. Give it time. She¡¯ll crawl back when she¡¯s desperate enough." He waved a hand dismissively, his gaze drifting to the window, where rain streaked the ss like tears.


    Back at the hospital, Eliana stepped off the bus, her sneakers squelching on the wet pavement. The fluorescent lights of the emergency entrance buzzed overhead as she pushed through the doors, her heart heavy. She made her way to her father¡¯s room, where Dr. Patel, another kind-eyed doctor with graying hair, was waiting. His face was grim, his hands sped tightly in front of him.


    "Miss Bet," he began, his voice soft but heavy, "I¡¯m sorry, but we¡¯re running out of time. Your father¡¯s condition is deteriorating. Without the funds for his treatment... I¡¯m afraid he has less than a week if we continue this way."


    The words hit her like a bucket of ice water down her spine. Eliana¡¯s knees buckled, and she sank into a stic chair, her hands covering her face. "No... no, please," she whispered, tears spilling anew. "I¡¯ll find a way. I¡¯ll get the money, I swear." But her voice cracked, and the sobs came again, raw and unstoppable. She cried for her father, for the betrayal, for the life she¡¯d thought she had. The hospital¡¯s sterile walls seemed to close in, suffocating her.


    Then, like a flicker of candlelight in a pitch-dark room, a memory rose up through Eliana¡¯s panic¡ªRafael Vexley¡¯s offer. That cold, ruthless billionaire had promised her a life of unimaginable luxury, all in exchange for one thing: a child. His child. Last week, she¡¯d walked away, clutching her dignity like a shield. She¡¯d sworn never to sell her body or her future, no matter what.


    But now? Now, dignity felt like a pretty ss ornament she could no longer afford to keep. Not when her fathery dying, and the only way to save him was money she didn¡¯t have. Money Rafael had in excess. Swallowing the bitter taste of her pride, she closed her eyes and made her choice.


    With thest few crumpled bills warming her palm, she stepped out into the night¡¯s downpour and gged down a passing cab. Rain dripped from her soaked hair and dress as she slid into the backseat, shivering. "Vexley estate," she whispered to the driver, her voice barely holding together.


    The cab wound its way through the city streets, neon signs smearing like paint across the windows. Eliana stared out at the passing world, her heart pounding louder with every turn they took. Finally, at 8:12 p.m., the car rolled to a stop in front of Rafael¡¯s mansion. Tall iron gates loomed before her, guarding the glowing pce within.


    She stepped out, her dress clinging to her body, heavy with rainwater. Cold air bit at her arms as she hugged herself for warmth. A burly security guard with a buzz cut eyed her sharply, his gaze lingering on her drenched figure.


    "Name and purpose?" he demanded, his voice t and unfeeling.


    Eliana lifted her chin, ignoring the tremor in her legs. "Eliana Bet," she said, her voice soft but clear. "I¡¯m Mr. Vexley¡¯s caregiver... Please. Let me in."


    The guard nced at his tablet, his face impassive under the glow of the security lights. After a silent second, he nodded and pressed a button, buzzing her through the massive iron gates. Eliana stepped forward, her shoes squelching with each step along the stone path.


    At the mansion¡¯s grand entrance, a maid swung the door open, her eyes going wide at the sight before her. "Oh, sweetheart, you¡¯re drenched!" she eximed, rushing forward with a thick, fluffy towel. She pressed it into Eliana¡¯s trembling hands. "Here. Dry off before you catch your death."


    Eliana dabbed at her face and arms, trying to rub away the chill sinking into her bones. Water dripped from her curls onto the marble floor, leaving tiny, trembling puddles behind as the maid led her deeper into the house.


    They passed gilded mirrors, velvet curtains, and glimmering chandeliers that sparkled like ice under the dim lights. Finally, the maid stopped in front of a heavy oak door and gave her an encouraging nod before pushing it open.


    The scent of leather and expensive cologne hit Eliana instantly. Inside, Rafael Vexley sat in his wheelchair by the tall window, his broad shoulders wrapped in a perfectly tailored ck suit. He was staring out into the night, the city lights casting fractured reflections across his steel-grey eyes.


    James, his secretary was gathering papers into a sleek folder, ready to leave for the evening. Eliana stood at the doorway, clutching the towel like a lifeline as her heart thudded in her chest.


    She cleared her throat, her voice small against the distant patter of rain against the windows. "Mr. Vexley," she said softly.


    He turned his head slightly, his gaze flicking to her, unreadable and cool. For a fleeting moment, something sparked in those silver eyes¡ªcuriosity, or maybe faint amusement.


    "Miss Bet," he drawled, his voice smooth and dark like aged whiskey. "Back so soon? I thought your pride would keep you away a little longer."


    Her fingers twisted into the towel, knuckles paling with the force of her grip. "I... I¡¯m sorry I left," she whispered, her brown eyes darting to his before dropping to the shiny floor. "If your offer still stands, I¡¯ll do whatever you ask. Anything. I just... I need help with my father¡¯s hospital bills. Please."


    A ghost of a smile curved at his lips, cold and knowing. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes sharpening despite their clouded greyness. "Anything, you say?" he murmured, his tone curling with intrigue. "Well, Miss Bet... let¡¯s see just how far your desperation takes you."

 Chapter 20: The Arms of a Predator

    <h4>Chapter 20: The Arms of a Predator</h4>


    The air in Rafael Vexley¡¯s office carried that rich scent of old leather and his expensive sandalwood cologne ¨C the kind of smell that said power without needing words. Rain mmed against the tall windows, each drop adding to the restless energy in the room.


    Eliana Bet stood just inside the doorway, soaked to the bone. Her thin dress clung to her shivering frame as she hugged a damp towel to her chest, like it could protect her from the storm inside and out. Her big brown eyes flicked between the shining marble floor and the man by the window, fear and determination flickering together.


    James, Rafael¡¯s ever-efficient secretary, froze mid-step, his armsden with a sleek leather folder. His sharp blue eyes widened at the sight of Eliana, her curls stered to her face, water pooling at her feet. <i>Rafael was right, </i>he thought, a bitter edge to his inner voice. <i>Everyone has a price. </i>Even her. He¡¯d seen countless people bend under the weight of necessity, their pride crumbling like dry leaves when money was dangled before them. Eliana, with her quiet strength and hopeful smile, had seemed different. But here she was, drenched and trembling, proving Rafael¡¯s cynical worldview correct. James¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line, disappointment flickering in his chest.


    "Sir," James said, clearing his voice, turning towards Rafael. The man sat in his motorized wheelchair, wearing a wless ck suit that made his broad shoulders look even more imposing. He didn¡¯t move, just looked towards Eliana¡¯s direction with those cold steel-grey eyes, a small smirk curling his lips.


    "If you don¡¯t need me anymore tonight, I¡¯ll head out," James said quietly.


    Rafael¡¯s head tilted slightly, his steel-grey eyes¡ªglinting with a cold amusement. "Go, James," he said, his voice smooth andmanding, like velvet draped over a de. "Miss Bet and I have... matters to discuss."


    James gave a curt nod, sparing Eliana onest nce before striding out of the room, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind him. The sound echoed like a gavel, sealing Eliana¡¯s fate in the lion¡¯s den.


    Eliana¡¯s breath hitched as she took a tentative step forward, her shoes squelching softly. "Mr. Vexley," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "I... I know I left, but¡ª"


    Rafael raised a hand, cutting her off. His lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. "Spare me the apologies, Miss Bet. To be honest with you, I don¡¯t need your services anymore. I¡¯ve found another caregiver. Someone less... prone to running away." His tone was icy, each word a deliberate jab. "You should leave. The rain won¡¯t wait."


    Eliana¡¯s heart plummeted, her knees trembling as if the floor had shifted beneath her. She couldn¡¯t leave¡ªnot now, not when her father¡¯s life hung by a thread, tethered to machines she couldn¡¯t afford. Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Instead, she sank to her knees, the cold marble biting into her skin through her soaked dress. "Please, Mr. Vexley," she pleaded, her voice cracking with raw desperation. "I¡¯m on my knees. I¡¯ll do anything. Anything you ask. Just help me save my father. He¡¯s all I have."


    Rafael¡¯s smile widened, a predator savoring the scent of surrender. He leaned forward slightly, his wheelchair humming softly as he adjusted his position. "Anything?" he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, like a storm gathering on the horizon. "Are you sure, Miss Bet?"


    She nodded, sending tiny droplets of water falling from her curls onto the floor. Then she caught herself, remembering with a pang that he couldn¡¯t see her nod. "Yes," she whispered, her voice thin and shaky, but there was a steel edge beneath it. "I¡¯m sure," she added, her words trembling but firm.


    A faint smile ghosted across his lips as his unseeing eyes narrowed, a glimmer of curiosity and dark amusement flickering behind that pale cloudiness. "Come closer," he murmured, his voice low and velvety, each syble curling around her like smoke. He extended a hand in her direction, his long fingers spread with quiet confidence, the simple gesture carrying a silentmand she couldn¡¯t refuse.


    Eliana rose unsteadily, her legs trembling beneath her as if they might give out at any second. Each step toward him felt heavier than thest, her soaked dress clinging coldly to her skin. When she reached him, she ced her shaking hand in his. His fingers closed around hers, firm and unyielding, pulling her closer until she stood just inches away from him. His touch was warm, almost shockingly so, cutting through the chill that gnawed at her bones.


    "Prove it," Rafael murmured, his voice dropping into a low, husky whisper that sent shivers racing down her spine for reasons she couldn¡¯t name. His eyes, though blind, seemed to pierce straight through her. "Strip. Right here. Right now."


    His words hit her like a p across the face, knocking the breath out of her lungs. Tears sprang to her eyes, hot and fast, blurring his sharp features. Not letting herself think, her hand trembled slowly as she reached for the small zipper at her side, her fingertips brushing against the cold metal. Everything inside her screamed to run, to scream, to hold onto thest fragile piece of dignity she had left.


    But her father¡¯s face shed in her mind ¨C weary, lined with pain, his breaths ragged and weak. The memory sliced through her resolve like a hot knife. With a bitter swallow, she tugged the zipper down. The sound of it unfastening ¨C that quiet, rasping whisper of fabric parting ¨C felt louder than the storm raging outside.


    But just as she tried to push on, her vision wavered, and exhaustion mmed into her like iron shackles locking her in ce. The room swayed, the golden chandeliers overhead fracturing into swirling shards of light. Her knees buckled under her weight, and before she could stop herself, darkness swept in. She copsed forward, her body folding into Rafael¡¯s arms. Thest thing she felt was his solid warm chest against her cheek, so steady and strongpared to the ice sinking deep into her bones.


    Rafael¡¯s breath hitched as Eliana¡¯s small body suddenly went limp, copsing softly against him. For a moment, he froze. The mask of calm calction he always wore slipped away, revealing a flicker of panic as he stared down at her tear-streaked, pale face. She looked so delicate in that instant, like a porcin doll someone had carelessly dropped.


    With careful hands, he adjusted her, shifting her weight so shey cradled across hisp, her head lolling gently against his shoulder. He could feel the warmth of her cheek against his neck, her breathing shallow and uneven. The quiet hum of his wheelchair broke the silence as he turned and began rolling out of the study, the smooth wheels gliding soundlessly over the polished marble floors.


    He was halfway down the corridor when a familiar, sharp voice sliced through the stillness. "Oh hi, son. What do we have here?"


    Rafael¡¯s gaze flicked up to see Mirabel Vexley, his stepmother, standing at the end of the hall. She looked effortlessly regal, draped in a flowing emerald silk gown that shimmered under the chandelier¡¯s light. Pearls gleamed around her graceful neck, their cool sheen matching the glint in her honey-brown eyes. Her smooth brown skin seemed to glow in the golden light, but her smile held no warmth. Instead, her lips curled into a smirk as her gaze travelled over the unconscious woman in Rafael¡¯s arms, amusement and something darker flickering in her eyes.


    Rafael¡¯s jaw tightened, his hatred for Mirabel simmering like a coiled snake. He knew her for what she was¡ªa gold-digger who¡¯d wed her way into his father¡¯s bed, her heart as cold as the diamonds she wore. His father, Vexley Sr., was too enamored to see her for the viper she was, but Rafael wasn¡¯t so blind. Still, he never acted rashly. His words were always refined,yered with double meanings that cut deeper than any shout.


    "Mirabel," he said, his voice smooth as polished steel, "I suggest you attend to your own affairs. This doesn¡¯t concern you." His tone was polite, almost deferential, but the underlyingmand was clear: <i>Fuck off.</i>


    Mirabel¡¯s smirk faltered, but she recovered quickly, tossing her head. "Touchy, darling. I was only curious about your... guest." Her eyes lingered on Eliana, sharp and calcting.


    Rafael pressed the remote on his wheelchair, the motor whirring as he moved past her without another word, leaving her standing in the corridor, her smirk fading into a scowl. He didn¡¯t look back as he guided the chair into his private suite, the heavy door closing with a soft thud.


    Inside, the room was a sanctuary of dark wood and deep blues. The massive king-sized bed sat beneath a sculpted ceiling, its silk sheets pooling like liquid silver in the dim light. Rafael pressed the small brass service bell resting on his side table, the sound sharp and delicate in the quiet room.


    Within moments, the door creaked open, and ra stepped in. She was young, her uniform crisp, her brown hair tied neatly at the nape of her neck. "Sir?" she asked softly, but her gaze shifted immediately to Eliana, and her expression melted into quiet worry.


    "Help her out of those wet clothes," Rafael said, his voice losing its usual edge, bing almost tender. "Find one of my dress shirts for her. Somethingfortable. Be quick."


    ra nodded without hesitation and hurried to his side. Rafael slipped his arms beneath Eliana and lifted her effortlessly onto the bed, careful not to jostle her. As ra began her task, he turned his wheelchair and rolled himself out, leaving the maid to work in private.


    Minutester, ra¡¯s gentle call reached him. He returned to the room to find Eliana lying against the pillows, her damp curls fanned out like dark ink across the white pillowcase. She wore one of his crisp white dress shirts, the fabric drowning her slender frame, the sleeves slipping past her small hands. The shirt clung softly to her curves, and Rafael felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight.


    He flicked his gaze to ra¡¯s direction and gave her a silent nod of dismissal. She slipped out, closing the door behind her with a quiet click. Alone now, Rafael wheeled himself closer to the bed. Reaching up, he slowly removed the tinted contact lenses that kept the world convinced he was blind. As they slipped free, his true eyes were revealed¡ªpiercing steel-grey, clear and cutting through the dim light with a cold, unflinching brilliance. He blinked, adjusting to the rity, and leaned forward, letting his eyes trace the lines of Eliana¡¯s sleeping form.


    She looked so impossibly small lying there, so fragile and vulnerable in his shirt. Yet there was something undeniably captivating about her¡ªher parted lips, the faint rise and fall of her chest, the quiet strength beneath her softness. For a moment, his carefully guarded expression eased, a fleeting smile softening his harsh features.


    He reached out, brushing his fingers gently over a damp curl stuck to her forehead, pushing it away with a tenderness he rarely showed. His voice dropped to a whisper, low and almost broken as he spoke words meant only for her sleeping ears. "You will regreting back to me, Eliana," he murmured, his thumb grazing her cheek. "But I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ll ever let you go now."


    Outside, the storm continued its relentless rage, thunder rolling over the city like an angry god¡¯s drum. But inside that quiet room, something shifted¡ªsomething small and fragile but real. A thin, silken thread of connection began weaving itself between the ruthless billionaire who trusted no one and the woman who, whether she knew it or not, had just given him everything.

 Chapter 21: The Billionaire’s Game

    <h4>Chapter 21: The Billionaire¡¯s Game</h4>


    The storm outside raged on,shing heavy sheets of rain against the tall ss windows of Rafael Vexley¡¯s suite. Thunder rolled like an angry god¡¯s drum, shaking the silent shadows of his bedroom.


    Rafael sat silently in his wheelchair, the quiet hum of the night amplifying every breath he drew. His steel-grey eyes, now uncovered and sharp without those deceiving tinted lenses, locked onto Eliana like a predator studying its prey. Azy, dangerous smirk curved his lips as he watched her sleep.


    She looked so heartbreakingly fragile lying there, utterly unaware of the world¡ªor of him. Her lips were parted just enough to make his chest tighten. Her longshes fluttered ever so slightly, catching stray beams of moonlight sneaking past the ckout curtains. Each gentle rise and fall of her chest seemed to echo in his mind, whispering secrets only he was allowed to hear.


    His fingers twitched against the leather armrest, aching to reach out and brush her wild curls away from her face. They spilled across his silk pillows like dark ink against snow, a stark contrast that made his throat tighten. She looked almost childlike, swallowed up by his oversized shirt, its sleeves drowning her delicate wrists.


    The sight stirred something deep in him¡ªa dark blend of possession and curiosity, wrapped around a thin thread of something warmer, softer... something he forced himself to crush before it could grow roots.


    Another smirk pulled at his lips as he tilted his head, eyes never leaving her peaceful face.


    Such innocence, he thought, leaning back with a silent chuckle. So sweet. So utterly misced in a world like his.


    He reached for his phone on the nightstand and dialled a number with practiced ease. After two rings, a groggy male voice answered, "Sir... it¡¯s almost midnight. Is everything alright?"


    "James," Rafael said smoothly, his voice dark honey edged with ice. "First thing tomorrow morning, go to Central Mercy Hospital. Find out everything about Frank Bet¡¯s condition. If he needs a transfer to a better facility, do it immediately. If not, settle all his medical bills and arrange anything else he needs to survive."


    There was a pause on the other end, a faint rustle as if James had sat up straighter. When he spoke, his voice carried a note of disbelief, almost shock. "Sir, you¡¯re... you¡¯re serious? You want to pay for her father¡¯s care? All of it? Out of your pocket?"


    Rafael¡¯s smirk widened as he let his gaze roam over Eliana¡¯s sleeping form. She shifted slightly, curling deeper into the plush pillows. "Yes," he replied coolly, leaning back in his chair. "Is that a problem, James?"


    "N-no, sir, of course not. I just..." James hesitated, his confusion bleeding through the line. "Forgive me, but... you¡¯ve never... spent money unless there¡¯s gain. Even the charities you sponsor benefit yourpanies¡¯ PR and tax reductions. I understand why you¡¯d dig into Miss Bet¡¯s background¡ªyou don¡¯t trust anyone without knowing what cards they¡¯re holding. That¡¯s just you. But... helping her father? I just... I need to be sure this is really what you want me to do."


    Rafael let out a low chuckle, deep and dark, sending a shiver down James¡¯s spine even through the call. "Think of it as an investment, James. "A very... promising one. Just wait and see. This will yield results you couldn¡¯t imagine." His voice dropped,ced with a dangerous amusement. "Do as I say. I¡¯ll expect a full report by noon."


    "Investment...?" James echoed, his voice small. "Understood, sir. I¡¯ll handle it first thing tomorrow."


    "Good." Rafael ended the call without another word, cing the phone back on the table with a soft clink.


    For a long moment, Rafael just watched her. The storm outside raged on, rain mming against the windows like an uninvited guest demanding entry, thunder grumbling low in the distance. But inside, everything was silent¡ªexcept for the wicked thoughts swirling through his mind.


    His smirk deepened as he studied Eliana¡¯s sleeping face. So peaceful. So unaware.


    Then, in one smooth, almost catlike motion, he ced his hands firmly on the arms of his wheelchair and pushed himself up. Effortless. Graceful. Powerful. The lie of his paralysis fell away like a forgotten cloak as he rose to his full height, muscles tightening beneath his skin. The wheelchair sat there, empty and abandoned, like a useless stage prop after the final act.


    He flexed his arms, rolling his broad shoulders back until they cracked lightly, loosening the tension that came from sitting still for too long. The shadows danced across his sculpted chest and abdomen as he unbuttoned his ck silk shirt with practiced ease, each button sliding open under his deft fingers. The fabric whispered as it slipped off his body and pooled on the floor at his feet.


    Without hesitation, he hooked his thumbs into his tailored cks and slid them down, along with his briefs, until he stood naked under the soft golden glow of the bedsidemp. The light caressed every hard line and carved ne of his body, making him look almost otherworldly.


    He moved to the bed and pulled back the silvery sheets with slow deliberation. As he slipped beneath them, a brief shiver ran over his skin before the warmth of the bedding wrapped around him. Rolling onto his side, he reached out and slid an arm around Eliana¡¯s small waist, pulling her gently against his chest.


    She murmured something soft and incoherent in her sleep but didn¡¯t wake. Her warmth seeped into him,forting in a way that irritated and soothed him all at once. Her quiet breath fanned across his chest, feather-light and calming.


    Rafael closed his eyes for a moment, breathing her in.


    This... this was exactly where he wanted her.


    A smug smile curled across his lips. He pressed his nose lightly to her hair, breathing in the faint scent of coconut and baby oil. "Soon... you will regreting back to me, Eliana," he thought, eyes slipping shut as he drifted into sleep, "but it will be toote."


    *********


    Soft golden ray of dawn crept through the massive windows, filling the room with warmth and forming delicate patterns on the navy walls. The rain had eased to a whisper, leaving only the rhythmic dripping of water from the balcony rails.


    Eliana stirred with a soft moan, blinking blearily against the pale light. Warmth enveloped her, a solid heat pressed against her back. She inhaled deeply, the scent of expensive cologne and clean masculine skin filling her nose.


    Her eyes flew open, wide and frantic.


    For a split second, her brain refused to register what she was seeing. Then it hit her¡ªhard. Her heart mmed against her ribs, her pulse thundering in her ears as her surroundings sharpened into terrifying rity.


    She was lying half draped across Rafael Vexley¡¯s bare chest, his strong arm wrapped possessively around her waist, holding her firmly against him. The silk sheets were tangled around her thighs, cool against her skin, exposing her slender legs to the dim morning light.


    Her breath hitched when she nced down at herself. Her clothes were gone. In their ce was a crisp white dress shirt¡ªhis shirt¡ªits starched cor brushing delicately against her corbone. The sleevespletely swallowed her arms, hanging past her fingertips, and the hem barely reached the tops of her thighs.


    She forced herself to look at Rafael, a knot of dread tightening in her chest. His chest rose and fell steadily, the shadows entuating every defined line of his torso. With trembling fingers, she lifted the edge of the sheets, her breath catching in her throat as the silky fabric slid away inch by inch. Her eyes widened, heat rushing to her face when she saw himpletely naked beneath the covers.


    Oh... oh my god!


    Panic roared to life inside her, wing up her throat as her mind scrambled for answers. shes from the night before darted through her memory in chaotic fragments: the violent storm outside... his cold, elegant office... his dark, degrading request... the fleeting warmth of his chest that made her head spin... and then¡ªnothing but ckness.


    Her chest constricted painfully as a single horrifying thought screamed through her mind:


    <strong><i>I slept with Rafael Vexley!</i></strong>


    She swallowed a scream, her breathing out in ragged, terrified gasps. Her hands trembled as she pressed them to her face, her pulse thundering in her ears. No, no, no...Eliana, no!


    Unbeknownst to her, Rafael was already awake. He had woken an hour earlier, silently slipping his tinted contact lenses back onto his eyes, once again portraying the helpless blind man the world knew him to be. Now, hey there pretending to sleep, his steel-grey gaze hidden behind the false cloudiness of his lenses.


    His lips twitched as he watched her internal panic. It was... amusing. Endearing, even. The little mouse, so caught in her own fears, unable to see the strings pulling her world apart.


    Finally, he decided to put on his performance.


    With a low, sleepy groan, he tightened his grip around her waist and pulled her flush against his chest. Eliana let out a sharp squeak as her hands syed against his warm skin. Rafael dipped his head slightly, pressing his lips against her temple in a tender kiss.


    "Good morning," he murmured, his voice husky with feigned sleep.


    For a moment, there was stunned silence. Then¡ª


    "AHHHHHHH!"


    Eliana screamed, her voice echoing like a siren through the massive room. She shoved at his chest with both hands, scrambling backwards with wide eyes filled with pure horror and embarrassment. The silk sheets tangled around her legs as she stumbled off the bed, nearly falling face-first onto the marble floor.


    Rafael watched her with an impassive expression, though inside, darkughter rumbled through him. She looked like a terrified kitten, her curls a wild halo around her flushed face, her eyes huge with disbelief and shame.


    "Mr... R-Rafael... I... we... oh god..." she stammered, her voice breaking as her eyes darted around the room, searching for her clothes. "Did we... did we really...?"


    Rafael yawned theatrically, stretching his arms above his head, the movement pulling his sculpted torso taut and powerful. He blinked slowly, pretending to ¡¯find¡¯ her with his blind gaze. "Eliana?" he murmured, feigning confusion. "What¡¯s wrong...? Did I scare you?"


    Her mouth fell open in shock, tears welling in her eyes. "I... I... I¡¯m so sorry... I shouldn¡¯t have... I was desperate... oh god... this is so wrong..."


    "Shh." He reached out a hand in her direction, tilting his head slightly with a gentle frown, ying his part perfectly. "Come back to bed, Eliana. You¡¯re stuttering."


    She stared at him, her lip trembling. "I... I can¡¯t... I... I have to go..."


    Rafael let out a small sigh, dropping his hand back to the bed. Behind the feigned concern in his clouded eyes, his mind churned with cold satisfaction. Everything was falling into ce. Soon, she would have nowhere to run.


    "Whatever you wish," he said softly, his voiceced with deceptive warmth. "But... don¡¯t forget... you¡¯re mine now, Eliana."


    His words echoed in the silent room, wrapping around her like invisible chains. She clutched the front of the oversized shirt tighter around her chest, her tears spilling freely down her cheeks as her heart shattered with the realization that her life had descended into pure chaos.


    She bolted from his room, bare feet pping against the cold marble floor as she sprinted down the corridor, humiliation burning hot and fierce in her chest.


    Inside, in that dim, luxurious room, Rafael Vexley watched his little pawn with a victorious smirk hidden beneath a mask of gentle confusion, as the game continued¡ªeach move drawing her deeper into his world... and into his chains.

 Chapter 22: Dumbfounded

    <h4>Chapter 22: Dumbfounded</h4>


    Eliana Bet burst out of Rafael Vexley¡¯svish bedroom, her bare feet pping against the icy floors of his sprawling mansion. The shock of cold travelled up her legs, jolting her awake in a way nothing else could. She clutched desperately at the oversized white shirt hanging off her shoulders¡ªhis shirt. It barely covered her thighs, the crisp fabric sticking to her skin, damp with sweat and lingering fear.


    Her hair was a wild mess of curls, tumbling around her face like a storm she couldn¡¯t tame, each strand a reminder of how utterly out of ce she was in this pce of perfection. The pristine hallway, lined with towering windows that weed the shy morning sun, only made her feel smaller. She prayed under her breath that everyone in the house was still asleep. The idea of being seen like this¡ªhair tangled, eyes swollen with unshed tears, drowning in the scent of him¡ªmade her stomach twist with humiliation.


    Her wide, panicked eyes flicked down the endless corridor, heart hammering against her ribs with every step. Each beat was a cruel reminder of what she¡¯d done. Or what had been done to her. <i>I slept with him. Oh God... I actually slept with him.</i> The words looped endlessly in her mind, scraping against her sanity like shards of ss.


    She hadn¡¯t meant for any of this to happen. Sure, she¡¯de here ready to sell herself to him¡ªbecause what other choice did she have? Her father was dying, and Rafael Vexley was her only lifeline. But this? Waking up next to him, half-naked, her body aching in ces she couldn¡¯tprehend, his arm heavy across her waist as if he owned her... This wasn¡¯t part of her n. Especially when she hadn¡¯t even been conscious for it. A shiver tore through her at the memory of his lips brushing her temple, tender and possessive in a way that felt like a sick joke.


    She quickened her pace, feeling like a thief sneaking out with stolen dignity. The mansion felt like a maze designed to keep her trapped, with its crystal chandeliers overhead, it¡¯s gleaming floors, and ornate gold frames housing portraits of powerful, untouchable people who seemed to watch her with silent judgement.


    Her breath came out in ragged bursts as she rounded a corner, searching desperately for the exit. <i>Please... just let me leave before anyone sees me like this. </i>But as always, fate had its own twisted sense of humour.


    "Oh my God. What do we have here?"


    A voice sharp and dripping with mockery cut through the silent hallway. Eliana froze mid-step, her blood turning to ice. Slowly, she lifted her gaze and felt her heart sink.


    At the end of the corridor stood a girl who looked like she¡¯d stepped straight out of a glossy magazine cover. She couldn¡¯t have been older than eighteen, with sleek blonde hair pulled into a painfully tight high ponytail that shimmered under the chandelier light. Her face was pretty in that harsh, intimidating way, her features sharpened by perfectly done makeup that screamed money and time to spare. She wore a matching designer athleisure set that hugged her slim frame, the brand logos practically shouting her status to the world.


    Celina Vexley.


    Those piercing blue eyes swept over Eliana, raking her from head to toe. Taking in the oversized shirt that drowned her small frame. The bare legs peeking out beneath its hem. The flushed, tear-stained cheeks.


    "Who are you?" Celina demanded, crossing her arms, her manicured nails tapping against her elbow. "And how the hell did you get into my house?"


    Eliana¡¯s mouth opened, but no words came out. Her throat was tight, her mind a whirlwind of shame. "I¡ªI¡¯m¡ª" she stammered, clutching the shirt tighter, as if it could shield her from the piercing gaze.


    Celina¡¯s eyes narrowed, and she snapped her fingers. "Maids! Get over here!" Her voice echoed through the hall, and within moments, five women in crisp ck uniforms appeared, their expressions a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Celina pointed at Eliana, her tone icy. "Who is this? And why is she prancing around my house looking like that?"


    One of the maids, an older woman with kind eyes, hesitated before stepping forward. "Miss Celina, that¡¯s... that¡¯s Eliana. She¡¯s Mr. Rafael¡¯s new caregiver."


    Celina¡¯s perfectly arched brows shot up, and then sheughed¡ªa loud, cruel sound that bounced off the marble walls. "Caregiver? <i>Caregiver?" </i>She doubled over, clutching her stomach as if the idea were the funniest thing she¡¯d ever heard. The maids shifted ufortably, their eyes darting between Celina and Eliana. "Oh, this is rich! You¡¯re telling me this... this stray is supposed to be taking care of my brother? Look at her! She looks like she just rolled out of his bed!"


    Eliana¡¯s face burned, her hands trembling as she took a step back. "I¡ªI didn¡¯t¡ª" she started, but Celina cut her off, herughter turning sharp and vicious.


    "Oh, please! Don¡¯t even try to deny it. You¡¯re wearing his shirt, for God¡¯s sake!" Celina¡¯s eyes gleamed with malice as she stepped closer, her voice dropping to a mocking whisper. "What, did you think you¡¯d seduce a blind, crippled man and get a piece of the Vexley fortune? Newssh, sweetheart¡ªmy brother can¡¯t even see you, and he sure as hell can¡¯t... you know." She wiggled her fingers suggestively, her lips twisting into a sneer. "I didn¡¯t even know he could perform in that department, considering he¡¯s, what, paralyzed from the waist down? And blind as a bat!"


    The maids gasped, one stifling a giggle behind her hand. Eliana¡¯s heart plummeted, the realization hitting her like a p. This is Rafael¡¯s sister. The cruelty in Celina¡¯s voice, the way she spoke of Rafael with such disdain¡ªthey could have pass off as the cruel twins. Tears stung Eliana¡¯s eyes, hot and unstoppable, as she stood there, exposed and humiliated.


    "I¡ªI need to go," Eliana whispered, her voice breaking. She turned and bolted, her bare feet pounding against the floor as Celina¡¯sughter chased her down the hall.


    "Wait!" a softer voice called after her. Eliana didn¡¯t stop, but the sound of footsteps followed. ra, the younger maid, caught up to her, her face flushed with concern. "Miss Eliana, please,e with me."


    Eliana shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I can¡¯t... I can¡¯t stay here..."


    "Just for a moment," ra pleaded, gently touching her arm. "Let me help you."


    Reluctantly, Eliana followed ra to the maids¡¯ quarters, a small, utilitarian space tucked away from the grandeur of the main house. ra rummaged through a locker and pulled out a simple blue dress and a pair of ts. "Here," she said softly, handing them to Eliana. "These are mine. They¡¯ll fit you."


    Eliana¡¯s lip trembled as she took the clothes, her voice only a whisper. "Thank you, ra. You... you don¡¯t know what this means."


    ra offered a small, sad smile. "You don¡¯t deserve what Miss Celina said. She¡¯s... she¡¯s not kind. But you¡¯re not alone, okay?"


    Eliana nodded, her throat too tight to speak. She changed quickly, the modest dress a stark contrast to the oversized shirt that had marked her shame. As she slipped on the ts, ra pressed a recharged bus card into her hand. "Get home safe," she murmured.


    Eliana clutched the card, her eyes welling up again. "I¡¯m nevering back here," she vowed, her voice fierce despite the tears. "Never."


    She fled the estate, her heart pounding as she navigated the winding driveway and out the iron gates. The early morning air was cool against her tear-streaked face, but it did little to soothe the fire of humiliation burning in her chest. She walked to the nearest bus stop, her steps heavy, her mind reying Celina¡¯s cruel words, Rafael¡¯s deceptive warmth, the weight of her own desperation.


    <i>I sold myself. For nothing.</i>


    The bus ride was a blur. Eliana sat at the back, her face pressed against the window, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. The other passengers, absorbed in their own worlds, paid her no mind, but she felt exposed, as if they could see every crack in her heart. She couldn¡¯t believe she¡¯d gone to Rafael Vexley¡¯s estate, thinking she could barter her dignity for her father¡¯s treatment, only to be humiliated beyond measure.


    When she finally reached her small, rundown apartment, Eliana copsed onto the worn couch, her sobs wracking her slender frame. The tiny space smelled of her father¡¯s aftershave and the faint mildew of poverty, but it was home¡ªa sanctuary from the nightmare she¡¯d just endured. She couldn¡¯t face her father, not yet, not with the shame clinging to her like a second skin.


    The bath was her salvation. She stood under the lukewarm spray, scrubbing her skin until it was raw, as if she could wash away the memory of Rafael¡¯s touch, Celina¡¯sughter, her own naivety. I¡¯m done with him, she thought fiercely. I¡¯ll never see Rafael Vexley again. I¡¯d rather sell my organs at the ck market for money than take his humiliation ever again.


    She was just pulling on a clean pair of jeans, her hair still damp, when her phone rang, shattering the fragile silence. The screen disyed the hospital¡¯s number, and her heart lurched. "Hello?" she answered, her voice hoarse.


    "Miss Bet, this is Dr. Patel¡¯s office," a calm voice said. "Your father¡¯s treatment has started immediately. We need you toe byter to sign some documents."


    Eliana frowned, her hand tightening around the phone. "But... I haven¡¯t paid the deposit yet. Dr. Patel said no treatment would start until¡ª"


    "The funds have been covered," the voice interrupted gently. "Mr. Rafael Vexley paid for everything."


    Eliana¡¯s legs buckled, and she sank to the floor, the phone nearly slipping from her grasp. "W-what?" she whispered, her voice trembling.


    "Pleasee byter today," the voice continued. "We¡¯ll need those signatures." The call ended, leaving Eliana staring at the phone, her mind reeling. Rafael paid? Why?


    Before she could process the shock, her phone rang again, this time from an unknown number. Numbly, she answered. "Hello?"


    "Miss Bet," a crisp male voice cut through the line, each syble clipped with practiced professionalism. "This is James Evans, Mr. Vexley¡¯s assistant. I¡¯m calling to inform you that Mr. Vexley expects you at work tomorrow, bright and early."


    There was a brief pause, just long enough for his words to sink in like cold water down her spine, before his tone sharpened with quiet warning.


    "He doesn¡¯t give third chances, Miss Bet. I suggest you don¡¯t make the same mistake twice."


    Eliana¡¯s lips parted, but no words came out. Her voice was trapped somewhere deep in her chest, buried under the shock crashing over her like a violent wave. Her heart thundered so hard it hurt. She sat there on the cold floor, staring nkly ahead, her mind spinning while her body felt impossibly heavy¡ªlike she¡¯d forgotten how to move, how to breathe, how to exist at all.


    <i>What the hell just happened? </i>

 Chapter 23: Just Fun

    <h4>Chapter 23: Just Fun</h4>


    The hospital¡¯s sharp, sterile scent of antiseptic engulfed Eliana Bet the moment she rushed through the sliding ss doors. Her chest tightened as her heart hammered wildly, each beat echoing in her ears. Just hours ago, she¡¯d been drowning in worry, trying to figure out how to keep her father¡¯s treatment going when every penny had already been stretched beyond its limit.


    Then the calls came¡ªfirst from the hospital, then from Rafael Vexley¡¯s secretary. Each word had felt like lightning striking her still heart. Her father¡¯s bills... paid. All of them. Cleared without a trace. By him.


    Rafael Vexley.


    The very man she¡¯d woken up beside not too long ago, her mind foggy with regret and humiliation, convinced she¡¯d given away a part of herself she could never get back. She could still feel the icy disbelief this morning, the crushing guilt as she fled his estate.


    Now, her worn-out sneakers squeaked against the hospital¡¯s glossy floors as she weaved past bustling nurses and worried families. Her thoughts were tangled in a storm of relief, confusion, and something dangerously close to hope. Why would a man like Rafael¡ªa man who moved through the world like nothing could touch him¡ªdo something so kind? So... impossibly generous?


    Or was this his way of putting a price tag on her dignity? Of making sure she knew exactly who held her fate in their hands?


    Eliana swallowed hard, her chest burning with the question she wasn¡¯t sure she wanted answered.


    Eliana reached the hospital¡¯s billing office, her breath catching as the clerk handed her a stack of documents. The numbers blurred before her honey-brown eyes¡ªzeros erased, debts dissolved. She signed the forms permitting her father¡¯s treatment, her trembling fingers betraying the dreamlike haze that enveloped her. It felt like she was floating, like the world had tilted into a fairy tale where hope wasn¡¯t just a flicker but a zing light. She clutched the papers to her chest, her curly ck hair spilling over her shoulders as she whispered to herself, "This can¡¯t be real."


    Frank Bet, had been moved to the VIP ward by the time she reached him. The room was a stark contrast to the cramped, dim space he¡¯d upied before. Sunlight streamed through wide windows, spreading it¡¯s warm glow over crisp white linens and a tray of steaming food¡ªroast chicken, mashed potatoes, and vibrant green beans, a far cry from the watery soup he¡¯d been served for the past days. Frank, frail and weathered, his dark eyes gentle despite the pain etched into his face, looked up from his bed. His balding head gleamed under the fluorescent lights, and his voice, weak but warm, broke the silence.


    "Eliana, sweetheart," he rasped, his gaze flickering to the luxurious room, "how in God¡¯s name did you manage this? The bills, this room... it¡¯s too much. Tell me, how¡¯d you pay for it?"


    Eliana froze, her heart lurching. She couldn¡¯t tell him the truth¡ªor what she thought was the truth. That she¡¯d woken up in Rafael Vexley¡¯s bed, her body tangled in his sheets, believing she¡¯d traded her dignity for his money. The shame burned her cheeks, but she forced a smile, her voice steady despite the storm inside her.


    "Papa, don¡¯t you worry about it," she said, sitting beside him and taking his thin hand. "I... I got another job. A good one. They gave me an advance, and I used it to cover everything. The hospital worked with me on a payment n, too. It¡¯s all taken care of."


    Frank¡¯s eyes narrowed, searching her face. "A job? What kind of job pays this much upfront, Eliana? You¡¯re not doing something dangerous, are you?"


    Sheughed, the sound brittle but convincing. "No, Papa, nothing like that. It¡¯s another caregiving job for a nice wealthy family. They¡¯re... generous. I just got lucky, that¡¯s all." She squeezed his hand, her smile softening. "You just focus on getting better, okay? Let me handle the rest."


    Frank studied her for a long moment, his expression a mix of pride and worry. Finally, he nodded, his voice bing a whisper. "You¡¯re too good to me, Eliana. Always have been."


    The words pierced her, and she blinked back tears as she spent the day by his side, watching nurses run tests and doctors murmur reassurances. Frank¡¯s strength was returning, bit by bit, and the sight of him eating a proper meal filled her with a fragile hope. But beneath it all, a fire burned in her chest. Rafael Vexley. She¡¯d march to his mansion tomorrow and set things straight. She wasn¡¯t his pawn, and she wouldn¡¯t be his ything. Every penny he¡¯d spent on her father, she¡¯d repay¡ªwithout selling her soul again.


    Meanwhile, across town in the sleek, ss-walled office of Vexley Enterprises, Rafael Vexley reclined in his leather chair, his steel-grey eyes glinting with amusement. The CCTV footage yed on the massive screen before him, capturing Eliana¡¯s hurried exit from his bedroom the previous morning. She¡¯d been wearing nothing but his oversized white shirt, her long legs bare, her face a mask of mortification as she clutched the fabric around her. Rafael¡¯s lips twitched into a grin, and a low chuckle escaped him.


    James stood nearby, his brow furrowed as he nced at the screen. "What¡¯s so funny, sir?" he asked, adjusting his sses. "She looks like she¡¯s running from a ghost."


    Rafael leaned forward, pausing the footage on Eliana¡¯s wide-eyed expression. "Oh, James, it¡¯s priceless. Look at her¡ªscrambling out of my room like she¡¯smitted a crime. The girl¡¯s got no idea I didn¡¯t touch her." Heughed again, the sound sharp and edged with mischief. "She thinks she slept with me. And I¡¯m letting her believe it."


    James raised an eyebrow, his tone cautious. "You¡¯re ying a dangerous game, sir. Why toy with her like this?"


    Rafael¡¯s grin faded, but his eyes sparkled with something darker. "Because it¡¯s <i>fun, </i>James. I haven¡¯t had this much entertainment in years. She¡¯s so... earnest. So easy to rattle." He rewound the footage, watching Eliana stumble into the hallway, her curls bouncing wildly. "Look at that determination. She¡¯s probably cursing my name right now."


    The footage shifted to another camera, showing Eliana¡¯s encounter with Celina, Rafael¡¯s spoiled step-sister. Celina¡¯s venomous words echoed through the speakers¡ªinsults hurled at what Eliana was wearing and Rafael¡¯s ughable disability." Rafael¡¯s jaw tightened, his amusement reced by a cold fury.


    "Cut Celina¡¯s allowance," he snapped, his voice like a whip. "Three months. Let her learn to keep that mouth of hers shut."


    James nodded, making a note. "Done, sir. Though I doubt it¡¯ll teach her much. She¡¯s as stubborn as theye."


    Rafael didn¡¯t respond, his attention back on the screen. The final clip showed Eliana at the gate, her voice trembling with resolve as she told ra, the housekeeper, "I¡¯ll never set foot in this house again. Never."


    Rafael threw his head back andughed, the sound rich and unrestrained. "Oh, she¡¯s adorable. Look at that face¡ªpure conviction. Like she¡¯s going to storm off and never look back." He leaned back, folding his arms. "She¡¯ll be back, James. Mark my words."


    James tilted his head, skeptical. "You sure about that, sir? She sounded pretty serious. And after what Celina said to her..."


    Rafael waved a hand dismissively. "She¡¯s tasted the money, James. Paid her father¡¯s bills, didn¡¯t I? She¡¯lle crawling back, just like the others. They all do. She¡¯ll probably try to seduce me next, thinking it¡¯ll keep the cash flowing."


    James frowned, his voice low. "If you think she¡¯s like the others, why <i>her</i>? Why choose her to... you know, bear your child?"


    Rafael¡¯sughter returned, sharp and mocking. "Oh, James, you¡¯re too serious. I¡¯m not serious about her. It¡¯s a game. I¡¯m proving a point¡ªto someone. A man who has so much faith in humanity. He needs to see and learn. Eliana¡¯s just a pawn. Weak-minded, naive, money hungry. Just like the rest of them." He leaned forward, his eyes glinting with a dangerous edge. "I¡¯d never let someone like her carry my legacy. She¡¯s just... fun to mess with."


    James didn¡¯t respond, his expression unreadable as he turned back to his tablet. Rafael¡¯s gaze lingered on the frozen image of Eliana, her honey-brown eyes zing with defiance. For a moment, his smirk faltered, and a flicker of something¡ªcuriosity, perhaps¡ªcrossed his face. Why was he so fascinated by her? She was just another caregiver, another desperate soul chasing his wealth. And yet, watching her storm away, he felt a spark he hadn¡¯t known in years.


    "Tomorrow," he murmured to himself, his voice barely audible. "Let¡¯s see if you keep your word, Eliana Bet."


    *******


    Eliana sat by her father¡¯s bedside, the hospital room now quiet except for the soft beeping of monitors. Frank slept, his breathing steadier than it had been in months. She brushed a curl from her face, her mind racing. Tomorrow, she¡¯d face Rafael Vexley. She¡¯d tell him she wasn¡¯t his toy, that she¡¯d repay every cent, and that she¡¯d never let him touch her again. Her heart ached with the weight of her mistake, but her resolve was irond. She was Eliana Bet, and she¡¯d fight for her lost dignity, no matter the cost.

 Chapter 24: The Truth Can Be Changed

    <h4>Chapter 24: The Truth Can Be Changed</h4>


    The morning sun streamed through the massive windows of Rafael Vexley¡¯s dining room, flooding the space with soft golden light. It danced across the long mahogany table and made the crystal chandeliers overhead sparkle like captured stars. The room smelled of freshly brewed coffee, warm buttery croissants, and sharp citrus from the bowl of perfectly arranged oranges in the centre. Every inch of the space screamed wealth and power.


    At the head of the table sat Rafael in his sleek wheelchair, wearing a navy suit that hugged his broad shoulders like it was made just for him ¨C because it was. His dark wavy hair caught the morning light, and though everyone believed he couldn¡¯t see, his steel-grey eyes watched everything with a quiet, dangerous amusement. Around him, staff moved like silent shadows: ra pouring coffee with steady hands, a young maid adjusting the silverware just right, and James standing by the doorway with his tablet, ready for orders.


    Outside, Eliana Bet¡¯s heart thudded as the mansion gates nged shut behind her. She walked up the stone driveway, the breeze tugging at her simple blue dress. Her sandals pped lightly against the path, each step feeling heavier than thest. All this wealth surrounded her, almost sneering at her presence, but she kept her head high. She wasn¡¯t here to beg. She was here to thank Rafael Vexley for paying her father¡¯s hospital bills ¨C and to tell him she would pay him back, every single cent.


    Before she could knock, the grand double doors swung open to reveal ra. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise.


    "Miss Bet... I didn¡¯t think I¡¯ll see you again," ra said with a soft smile on her face.


    "I won¡¯t be long," Eliana replied softly, smoothing her dress with trembling fingers. "I just need to speak with Mr Vexley."


    ra hesitated for a moment, then stepped aside. "He¡¯s in the dining room."


    Eliana¡¯s sandals echoed through the marble foyer as she walked in.


    There he was ¨C Rafael Vexley. Immacte as always in his white shirt slightly unbuttoned at the cor. His hair looked effortlessly styled, and his steel-grey eyes locked onto hers the moment she entered. A small smirk curled his lips as he leaned back in his chair, looking like he owned the world.


    "Eliana Bet," he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement. "So you decided to show up."


    She stood straight, her chin lifted despite the tremor in her knees. Her sandals made faint scuffs on the marble floor. Her dress clung to her in a way that was modest but still couldn¡¯t hide her quiet beauty. Her curly ck hair was tied into a loose bun, with a few strands falling across her heart-shaped face. Those honey-brown eyes of hers burned with gratitude, defiance, and fear all at once. Her full lips trembled slightly as she opened her mouth to speak.


    She¡¯de here to thank him, to let him know she wasn¡¯t someone who could be bought. But under the weight of his cold, amused gaze, her resolve faltered for just a second. She felt like a small bird caught under the gaze of a hawk ¨C fragile, trembling, but still determined not to break.


    "Mr. Vexley," Eliana began, her voice steady despite the knot in her chest. She sped her hands tightly, her knuckles paling. "I came to thank you for covering my father¡¯s hospital bills. It means more than I can say. But I need you to understand something." She took a deep breath, her eyes locking onto his. "I¡¯m going to pay back every single penny. I don¡¯t know how long it¡¯ll take, but I will. And I¡¯m noting back to work for you. I won¡¯t let you keep trampling on my dignity."


    A ripple of silence swept through the room. A maid froze mid-step, a silver tray wobbling in her hands. ra¡¯s coffee pot hovered over a cup, her eyes darting between Eliana and Rafael. James adjusted his sses, his expression controlled. Rafael, however, leaned back in his wheelchair, his lips curling into a slow, sardonic smile. He tilted his head, as if studying a particrly amusing puzzle.


    "Dignity?" he drawled, his voice smooth as butter but sharp as a de. He set down his coffee cup with a deliberate clink, the sound echoing in the cavernous room. "That¡¯s rich, Miss Bet. Dignity, you say? After I paid for your father¡¯s hospital bills, now you want to talk about dignity?" Hisughter was low, a rumble that sent a chill down Eliana¡¯s spine. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, his clouded gaze pinning her in ce. "Remind me, weren¡¯t you the one who got on your knees, begging me to sleep with you just for a taste of my money? And now you¡¯re standing here, acting all high and mighty?"


    The words hit like a p, and Eliana¡¯s breath caught in her throat. Her cheeks flushed, the heat creeping up her neck as the memory of that night in his office flooded back. Also, the memory of waking up in his oversized shirt, her mind a fog of panic, believing she¡¯d crossed a line she could never uncross. Her hands balled into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms as she fought the tears prickling behind her eyes. The staff exchanged nces, their whispers barely audible but sharp enough to cut. ra¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line, and the maid¡¯s tray rattled slightly as she set it down.


    Eliana¡¯s voice trembled, but she lifted her chin, her eyes zing. "You have no right to talk to me like that, Mr. Vexley. None. I don¡¯t care who you are or how much money you have. I¡¯m not your toy, and I won¡¯t stand here and let you humiliate me in front of everyone." Her voice grew stronger, each word a brick in the wall she was building around her heart. "I came here to thank you and to tell you I¡¯m done. I¡¯m noting back."


    She turned on her heel, her curls bouncing as she strode toward the arched doorway, her sandals squeaking faintly against the marble. Her heart pounded, a mix of fear and triumph surging through her. She was almost to the threshold when Rafael¡¯s voice cut through her triumph, cold andmanding.


    "Walk out that door, Miss Bet, and I¡¯ll make sure everyone knows you¡¯re a thief."


    Eliana froze, her hand hovering over the doorframe. Slowly, she turned, her eyes wide with shock. "What did you say?"


    Rafael¡¯s smile was a de, sharp and gleaming. He rolled his wheelchair forward, the soft hum of the motor the only sound in the room. "You heard me. If you leave and don¡¯te back to work as my caregiver, I¡¯ll tell the world you stole the money that paid for your father¡¯s hospital bills. I¡¯ll make sure you¡¯re caught in the police until you pay me back¡ªevery cent."


    Eliana¡¯s mouth fell open, her breath hitching. "You can¡¯t do that," she said, her voice rising with disbelief. She took a step toward him, her hands trembling. "I didn¡¯t pay those bills¡ªyou did! I never even saw that money with my own eyes. No one would believe you!"


    Rafael¡¯sughter erupted, rich and unrestrained, filling the room like a storm. He pped his hands once, the sound sharp and mocking. "Oh, Eliana, you sweet, naive girl," he said, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. "The rich can change the truth however it suits them. Do you think anyone will question me? Rafael Vexley, the poor, blind billionaire, taken advantage of by a desperate little caregiver?" He leaned back, folding his arms, his voice dripping with condescension. "I havewyers, connections, and a story that¡¯ll make headlines. You? You have nothing."


    Eliana stared at him, her mouth still open, her heart hammering so loudly she was sure everyone could hear it. The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in as Rafael¡¯s words sank into her bones. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she refused to let them fall. She wanted to scream, to hurl every insult she could think of, but her voice caught in her throat. The staff stood frozen, their faces a mix of pity and difort, but none dared intervene. ra¡¯s hands twisted in her apron, and James¡¯s gaze dropped to his tablet, as if he could will himself invisible.


    "You¡¯re a monster," Eliana whispered, her voice barely audible but heavy with conviction. Her hands shook as she pointed at him, her curls trembling with the motion. "You think you can just... twist everything? Make me the viin? I didn¡¯t steal your money. I didn¡¯t ask for any of this!"


    Rafael¡¯s smirk didn¡¯t waver, but something flickered in his eyes¡ªsomething fleeting, like a crack in his armor. "You¡¯re in my world now, Eliana," he said softly, his voice almost gentle, but it carried a venom that made her skin crawl. "And in my world, the truth is whatever I say it is."


    Eliana¡¯s breath hitched again, her chest tight with a mix of rage and despair. She wanted to run, to escape the suffocating weight of his power, but her feet felt glued to the floor. Her father¡¯s face shed in her mind¡ªhis gentle dark eyes, his weathered hands, his quiet pride. She¡¯d promised to protect him, to keep him safe. Could Rafael really destroy them both with a lie? Her gaze darted to the staff, to the gleaming chandeliers, to the man in the wheelchair who held her future in his hands. Her mouth opened, then closed, words failing her as the reality of his threat settled like a stone in her stomach.


    She looked at him, her mouth still open in shock, her heart a battlefield of defiance and fear.

 Chapter 25: Don’t Fight It

    <h4>Chapter 25: Don¡¯t Fight It</h4>


    Eliana Bet¡¯s chest tightened with a cold dread that made her stomach twist. She stood frozen, trembling from head to toe, tears gathering in her wide eyes before slipping down her soft warm cheeks.


    Rafael Vexley¡¯s words echoed in her mind, sharp and cruel<i>: "The truth is whatever I say it is."</i>


    Her heart pounded so hard it hurt, like a bird trapped in a tiny cage, thrashing to get free. Deep down, she knew he wasn¡¯t wrong. In his world¡ªthe world of the rich and untouchable¡ªtruth was just another thing they could bend and twist to fit their stories. Her dreams, worn thin like the soles of her sandals, meant nothing here. She was just another thread in the grand fabric he controlled, and he could snip her away whenever he felt like it.


    She opened her mouth, desperate to speak, but no words came out. Her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms until they stung. Maybe if she focused on that pain, she wouldn¡¯t fall apart right there in front of him. The air felt heavy, almost too thick to breathe, and even the faint clinking sounds from the staff setting the table seemed to mock her silence.


    She wanted to scream. She wanted to tell him that he couldn¡¯t do this to her, that he couldn¡¯t just y with her life like it was his favourite game. But the words were trapped behind her teeth, tangled with fear and anger. Her curls quivered as she shook her head in disbelief, as if denying this reality would make it vanish.


    Rafael didn¡¯t care. He wheeled himself back to the table and leaned back in his chair, studying her with those cold steel-grey eyes that saw everything and felt nothing. His sharp jaw tensed slightly, and then a smirk spread across his lips¡ªa smirk that felt more like a wolf baring its teeth.


    Slowly, he picked up his fork and speared a piece of steak, moving with deliberate calmness, like he had all the time in the world. The gentle clink of metal against his te cut through the tense silence like hot knife. He chewed with infuriating ease, as if he hadn¡¯t just torn her world apart with one sentence.


    For him, this was nothing but another move in a game he knew he would always win.


    "Eliana," he said after a few bites, his voice smooth butced with steel, "you¡¯re still standing there. Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re nning to make a scene again." He dabbed his lips with a crisp white napkin, the motion almost theatrical, before setting it down with a flourish. "It¡¯s simple, really. You owe me. And I¡¯m not a patient man."


    Eliana¡¯s breath hitched, her tears falling faster now, hot and heavy. She swiped at them angrily, her voice finally breaking free, though it trembled with the weight of her emotions. "You can¡¯t do this, Rafael. You can¡¯t just... trap me here like some kind of prisoner! I didn¡¯t steal anything! You know I didn¡¯t!"


    His smirk widened, a glint of dark amusement flickering in his eyes. "Prisoner? Oh, don¡¯t be so dramatic, Miss Bet. I¡¯m offering you a job and a chance to repay your debt. Most would call that generous." He tilted his head, his wavy dark hair catching the light, making him look like some fallen angel ying at benevolence. "But if you¡¯d rather test my patience, go ahead."


    Eliana moved before she even realized it, her sandals squeaking against the smooth marble floor as she turned away from him. Her heart thundered in her chest, each beat pushing her forward with a shaky mix of desperation and stubborn hope. <i>He¡¯s bluffing,</i> she told herself over and over, trying to calm the panic rising inside her. <i>I didn¡¯t steal anything. He¡¯s just trying to scare me.</i>


    She was almost at the doorway, her fingertips brushing the cold wood of the doorframe. Freedom was right there, so close she could taste it, when Rafael¡¯s voice pulled her to a stop.


    "Not so fast," he drawled, his toneced with mocking surprise. It made her flinch. "I almost forgot to mention¡ª"


    She turned to face him, her chest tight with dread.


    "If you¡¯re going to work for me properly, Eliana," he continued, leaning back in his wheelchair with that same infuriating calm, "you¡¯ll need to be close. You¡¯ll live here, in my house, until everyst penny of your debt is paid. Only then¡ª only then¡ªcan you walk away."


    Her body froze mid-step, her mouth falling open in shock. She spun around, her curls bouncing wildly, her eyes zing with a mix of horror and indignation. "Live here?" she choked out, her voice rising. "You can¡¯t be serious! I have a home, Rafael! I have a life! You can¡¯t just demand I uproot everything because you say so!"


    Rafael¡¯sughter was low and rich, rolling through the room like thunder. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the arms of his wheelchair, his clouded gaze pinning her in ce. "Oh, but I can, Eliana. And I am. You¡¯ll move in today. No arguments, no dys. You¡¯ll do your job, and you¡¯ll do it well, or I¡¯ll make sure your father hospital stay is a lot less...fortable."


    Eliana¡¯s hands flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp. Her vision blurred with fresh tears, and she shook her head, her voice a desperate plea. "This isn¡¯t fair! You¡¯re twisting everything, Rafael! I didn¡¯t force you to give me your money, and I didn¡¯t ask for this! Why are you doing this to me?"


    He didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, he turned to ra¡¯s direction, who stood frozen near the sideboard, her hands twisting nervously in her apron. "ra, are you there?" he asked.


    "Yes sir." ra replied walking up to him.


    "ra," he said, his voice clipped and authoritative, "prepare a room for Miss Bet. Make sure it¡¯s ready by tonight."


    ra¡¯s dark eyes darted to Eliana, filled with a sympathy that only deepened Eliana¡¯s despair. "Yes, sir," she murmured, her voice soft but strained, before casting Eliana a look that begged her to stay calm.


    Rafael¡¯s gaze returned towards Eliana¡¯s direction slightly, his expression unyielding. "You have until tonight to settle in," he said, his tone final. "I won¡¯t tolerate excuses tomorrow. Understood?"


    Eliana¡¯s mouth opened again, a protest forming, but Rafael was already moving. He wiped his lips with the napkin once more, the gesture precise and dismissive, before rolling his wheelchair toward the door. The soft hum of the motor filled the room, a stark contrast to the chaos in Eliana¡¯s heart. James, his assistant, followed silently, his sses glinting as he adjusted them, avoiding Eliana¡¯s gaze as they exited the dining room.


    Eliana stood alone in the cavernous space, her breathing in shallow gasps. The weight of Rafael¡¯s ultimatum pressed down on her, heavy as the marble beneath her feet. Her mind raced, reying his words, his smirk, the way he¡¯d toyed with her like a cat with a mouse. She wanted to run, to flee this house and never look back, but the image of her father¡¯s gentle, weathered face held her in ce. Frank Bet, with his kind eyes and quiet strength, deserved better than to be caught in Rafael¡¯s web of lies.


    ra¡¯s soft footsteps broke the silence as she approached, her expression a mix of pity and caution. "Eliana," she said gently, her voice sounding small, "don¡¯t fight him. It never ends well for those who do. Mr. Vexley... he¡¯s not like other men. He¡¯s got ways of making things happen, ways you can¡¯t fight."


    Eliana turned to her, tears streaming down her face, her voice trembling with frustration. "ra, how can I just... ept this? He¡¯s trying to control my life! I can¡¯t let him do that!"


    ra¡¯s lips pressed into a sad smile, her hands reaching out to squeeze Eliana¡¯s arm. "I know, sweetheart. I know it ain¡¯t right. But you¡¯ve gotta be smart about this. Go get your things today, bring ¡¯em here. If you don¡¯t..." She hesitated, her eyes flickering with unease. "You¡¯ll regret it tomorrow. Trust me."


    Eliana¡¯s shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of her like water from a cracked vase. "I don¡¯t understand," she whispered, her voice breaking. "How did this happen? How did I end up here?"


    ra¡¯s smile softened, tinged with a sorrow that seemed to carry years of unspoken stories. "I¡¯ll have your room ready when you get back," she said, her voice kind but firm. "Just... do what you need to do, Eliana." With that, she turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing faintly as she disappeared through a side door, leaving Eliana alone in the vast, glittering dining room.


    Eliana stood there, her heart a battlefield of defiance and despair. The chandelier¡¯s light danced across the walls, creating shadows that seemed to mock her predicament. Her hands trembled as she wiped her tears, her mind a whirlwind of questions. What had just happened? How had her life spiraled into this trap, orchestrated by a man who wielded power like a weapon? She nced at the doorway where Rafael had disappeared, his coldughter still ringing in her ears. For a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of something in his eyes¡ªa crack in his clouded gaze, a hint of light. But it was gone as quickly as it came, leaving her to wonder if she¡¯d imagined it.


    With a shaky breath, Eliana turned toward the door, her steps heavy with the weight of a future she couldn¡¯t escape. Not yet.

 Chapter 26: Waiting

    <h4>Chapter 26: Waiting</h4>


    It waste afternoon. The sun slipped through the grimy window of Eliana Bet¡¯s tiny apartment. The room smelled of damp wood mixed with the faint sting of hospital antiseptic still clinging to her worn-out cardigan. Eliana stood in the center of her cramped living room, a half-packed suitcase open on the sagging couch. Her slender fingers trembled as she folded a faded blue dress, its hem frayed from months of wear. Her eyes, were dulled by exhaustion and the seriousness of Rafael Vexley¡¯s ultimatum. She¡¯d spent the morning after the visit to Rafael¡¯s house, at the hospital, sitting by her father¡¯s bedside, watching his chest rise and fall withbored breaths.


    Frank Bet looked so fragile lying there, his thin, weathered face almost blending into the crisp white sheets. His dark eyes, usually so warm and bright, flickered with pain he was trying so hard to hide. Eliana wanted to tell him everything¡ªhow Rafael was tearing her world apart with his threats and demands, how scared and lost she felt¡ªbut the words refused toe out. They stuck in her throat like stones.


    The steady beeping of the heart monitor filled the room, each sharp sound like a warning that his time was running out. He turned his tired eyes to her and gave a small, shaky smile. "Don¡¯t worry about me, Ellie," he rasped, his voice rough but still carrying that gentle warmth. "Just keep that smile of yours. It¡¯s all I need."


    She tried to smile back, but her lips trembled as tears burned at the corners of her eyes. She squeezed his hand, holding on a little longer before whispering that she¡¯d visit again soon. As she walked out of the room, the silence she¡¯d left behind felt heavier than ever, pressing down on her chest with every step.


    Back in her tiny apartment, Eliana sank onto the edge of her creaky bed, gripping the old suitcase so tightly her hands hurt. "Damn you, Rafael Vexley," she whispered, her voice low and shaking with anger. "Damn the day I ever met you."


    Her thoughts spun out of control, dragging her back to that moment when Sarai, her so-called best friend, had suggested the job as Rafael¡¯s caregiver. Did Sarai know what kind of monster he was? Had that perfect smile and sweet, honeyed voice been nothing but a trap to push her into this golden cage?


    Eliana¡¯s chest tightened as anger burned in her veins. She could almost see Sarai¡¯s smug green eyes, the way they always glinted with hidden envy, her sleek hair never out of ce, her expensive heels clicking on the floor like a predator stalking prey.


    "No," Eliana muttered under her breath, shaking her head hard. "No more thinking about her. She¡¯s not worth it."


    She blinked back the tears threatening to fall and forced herself to focus. With shaking hands, she shoved thest of her clothes¡ªa faded old sweater and a pair of worn jeans¡ªinto the suitcase, trying to block out everything else.


    The clock on the wall ticked past 6:00 p.m., its hands moving with agonizing slowness. The apartment was a bit dark now, the sun dipping below the horizon. Eliana stood, slinging the duffel over her shoulder, her curly ck hair spilling over her jacket. She took onest look around, her gaze lingering on a framed sunflower sketch she had made for her father when life was still good, its vibrant yellow faded to a ghostly hue. "I¡¯ll be back," she whispered, as if the promise could anchor her to this life she was being forced to leave. She turned toward the door, heart hammering in her chest, when a sudden buzz in her pocket made her jump. She pulled out her phone, and the screen lit up with a name that made her blood run cold: <strong><i>Jason.</i></strong>


    Her breath caught, her fingers hovering over the phone. Jason Asher, her ex-fianc¨¦, the golden boy who¡¯d shattered her heart by sleeping with Sarai. Three weeks had passed since she¡¯d left his mansion, her engagement ring taken away by his mother, her tears staining the driveway. He hadn¡¯t called, hadn¡¯t texted, hadn¡¯t cared¡ªuntil now. Her thumb hovered over the answer button, a mix of fury and curiosity warring within her. "What do you want, Jason?" she muttered, her voice barely audible. Against her better judgment, she pressed the button and held the phone to her ear.


    "Eliana?" His voice was smooth,ced with that familiar charm that had once made her heart flutter. "Hey, it¡¯s me. I... I just wanted to check in. It¡¯s been a while."


    Eliana¡¯s grip tightened on the phone, her knuckles whitening. "A while?" she snapped, her voice rising with indignation.


    There was a pause, and she could almost see his hazel eyes narrowing, his blonde hair falling artfully over his forehead as he crafted his next lie. "I miss you, Ellie," he said, his tone dripping with faux sincerity. "I messed up, okay? I know that. But I¡¯ve been thinking about us, about what we had¡ª"


    "What we had?" Eliana cut him off, her voice trembling with rage. "What we had was a lie, Jason! You think I don¡¯t know you were sleeping with our best friend behind my back?! You don¡¯t get to call me now and act like you care!"


    "Ellie, please," he pleaded, his voice softening. "I¡¯m not perfect, but neither are you. We can work this out. I know you still love me."


    He didn¡¯t even sound surprised, let alone bother to apologize.


    Her eyes stung with tears, but she refused to let them fall. "You don¡¯t know anything about me anymore," she said, her voice low and steely. "Don¡¯t call me again, Jason. I¡¯m done with you." She hung up before he could respond, her chest heaving as she tossed the phone into her pocket. The room felt smaller, the walls closing in, and for a moment, she thought she might scream. Instead, she grabbed her bag and stormed out, the door mming behind her, the echo ringing in her ears as she stepped into the chilly evening air.


    <strong>******</strong>


    Meanwhile, inside the sprawling luxury of Rafael Vexley¡¯s mansion, the billionaire recluse sat alone in his darkened office. His wheelchair was pulled up close to his polished mahogany desk, the dim light from his deskmp spilling across the table.


    Rafael¡¯s steel-grey eyes, cold and calcting, stared unblinking at the tablet in his hand. The screen showed a live feed from the front gate, where security guards stood watch under the pale glow of themps. The driveway was empty and silent, nothing but stillness beyond the iron bars.


    He drummed his fingers against the armrest, each tap echoing his growing impatience. His jaw clenched tight as thoughts raced through his mind. Would Elianae back to him like he ordered? Or would she dare defy him again, with that stubborn fire burning in her eyes?


    A thin smirk flickered at the corner of his lips. The thought of her resistance both irritated and intrigued him. Either way, she would learn who truly held the power.


    James stood by the door, hisnky frame shifting nervously. "Sir," he ventured, adjusting his sses, "why are you so... invested in this? In her? Tormenting Miss Bet¡ªit doesn¡¯t seem like you."


    Rafael¡¯s lips curled into a sardonic smile, his gaze still locked on the tablet. "We¡¯ve been over this, James," he drawled, his voice smooth but edged with ice. "It¡¯s fun. She¡¯s... entertaining. A puzzle I haven¡¯t quite solved."


    James frowned, his brow furrowing. "But sir, she¡¯s just a girl. She¡¯s not like the others you¡¯ve dealt with. She¡¯s... naive and kind. Why make her life harder than it already is?"


    Rafael¡¯s smile faded, his fingers pausing mid-tap. For a moment, his eyes flickered with something unreadable¡ªregret, perhaps, or something deeper. But it was gone in an instant, reced by his usual mask of indifference. "You¡¯re dismissed for the day, James," he said curtly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Go home."


    James hesitated for a moment before giving a small nod. His footsteps were quiet as he walked out of the office, and the soft click of the closing door left Rafael alone with his thoughts. The room fell silent, broken only by the low hum of the tablet in his hand.


    Rafael leaned back in his wheelchair, his fingers slowly tracing the smooth edge of the armrest. His steel-grey eyes stared nkly ahead as his mind began to drift. Waiting. He despised it. Every second felt like ws scraping against his skin, pulling him back to memories he¡¯d spent years trying to bury.


    Without warning, the memory flooded in¡ªsharp and painfully clear. He was just nine years old again, curled up in a cold hospital bed, the sharp sting of antiseptic burning his nose. Everything was darkness. An ident had stolen his sight and ripped his mother away from him in one cruel instant.


    He clenched his jaw tight, willing the memory to disappear. He wasn¡¯t that weak, helpless boy anymore. He¡¯d sworn he would never be that way again.


    But no matter how hard he tried to push it away, the memory refused to leave. It clung to him stubbornly, ying out in his mind like a scene he couldn¡¯t escape.


    <i>To be continued in the next Chapter...</i>

 Chapter 27: Waiting (Continuation)

    <h4>Chapter 27: Waiting (Continuation)</h4>


    The memory wed its way to the surface without permission.


    Rafael didn¡¯t ask for it. He never did.


    But tonight, as the mansion sat cloaked in silence and shadows, it came anyway¡ªuninvited, unwanted, and merciless.


    <strong>shback - Twenty Years Ago</strong>


    The soft chime of the school bell had barely faded when Rafael spotted his mother standing at the gate, her figure taut with unease. She looked breathtaking as always¡ªtall, graceful, with her coat fluttering in the evening breeze like she belonged on a magazine cover. But even at nine, Rafael had learned how to read faces, and something in hers was... off.


    "Mam¨¢!" Rafael ran up to her, his tiny backpack bouncing with each step. "You¡¯re early today!"


    She smiled quickly, too quickly. Her beautiful gray eyes darted around the street behind him, scanning each face, each shadow. Her hand gripped his tightly¡ªtoo tightly.


    He frowned. "Are you okay?"


    She forced another smile. "I¡¯m fine, mi amor." Her voice trembled slightly. "Let¡¯s get you home, okay?"


    "But¡ª" he began, but she tugged him toward the car.


    Rafael climbed into the passenger seat, the door shutting with a soft click that felt too loud in the tense quiet between them. He didn¡¯t buckle up right away¡ªjust stared at her. His mother gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles had gone pale. Her eyes kept darting to the rearview mirror, again and again, like something¡ªor someone¡ªmight appear at any second. Her chest rose and fell in fast, shallow breaths, like she was trying to stay calm and failing miserably.


    "Mam¨¢?" His voice was small, careful. "Why do you look scared?"


    Her hands flinched like the question had reached out and touched her. She nced at him, and for a second, he saw it¡ªthe truth she hadn¡¯t said out loud yet. Her face looked like it had forgotten how to hide things: fear, exhaustion, and something close to heartbreak flickered across her features like broken lights.


    "I¡¯m not scared," she whispered, voice barely holding itself together. "Just... tired, sweetheart."


    Rafael blinked, unconvinced. She always tried to sound strong, but this wasn¡¯t strength¡ªthis was the kind of tired that lived in the bones.


    "Is someone following us?" he asked gently.


    She opened her mouth like she had a ready answer, then shut it just as quickly. Her jaw clenched. Her mask slipped for the briefest moment¡ªand there it was. Pure fear. Sharp, naked, and real. Then, just as quickly, she forced it away and smoothed her face into something softer.


    "No one is after us, Rafi," she said, but her voice quivered on the edges. "You don¡¯t have to worry. I¡¯ll always protect you. Always, okay?"


    He nodded slowly, even though he didn¡¯t buy it. Something felt... off. Off in that way kids could sense, even when no one said anything.


    The engine hummed beneath them, and they drove on. Neither of them spoke. The sky outside darkened, heavy clouds swallowing the light as they sped along the highway. Rafael reached into his backpack for hisic book, flipping through the pages without really reading. Every once in a while, he peeked at his mom.


    Her hands were still trembling.


    The silence stretched, thick and electric, like the pause before a storm.


    Then¡ª


    <strong>BAM.</strong>


    The world lurched.


    Screeching tires. His mother¡¯s scream tearing through the air. His own voice joining hers, raw with terror.


    Metal shrieked as it collided with something unmovable. Rafael felt himself thrown sideways, the seatbelt snapping him back just in time. His head mmed into the window, and a sharp pain shot through his skull like fireworks exploding behind his eyes.


    ss shattered.


    The car spun.


    He was floating¡ªthen crashing.


    Then nothing but a horrible, final crunch. Steel. Earth. Bone.


    And then...


    Silence.


    A silence so deep it felt like the world had stopped breathing.


    Darkness.


    But not the kind of darkness thates with nightfall.


    This was worse. This was inside him.


    Permanent.


    Rafael¡¯s hands flew upward in the ck. His fingers wed at the air. Blind. He blinked again and again but saw nothing.


    "Mam¨¢?" His voice cracked around the word. "Mam¨¢?!"


    No answer.


    Panic climbed into his throat like fire.


    He turned his head and smelled it¡ªblood, thick and metallic. Smoke, bitter and suffocating. Gasoline, sharp and dangerous. The seatbelt dug into his chest, tight and unforgiving, but he didn¡¯t care.


    "MAM¨¢!" he screamed, throat raw.


    Still nothing.


    The wreckage groaned around him. A distant drip. A whine of wind through shattered ss.


    But no voice. No arms. Nofort.


    Just Rafael.


    Alone.


    Blind.


    And scared out of his mind.


    The sound came first¡ªboots crunching over gravel, heavy and urgent. Men shouting. Then hands¡ªrough, unfamiliar¡ªdragging him from the wreckage, tearing him from thest ce he¡¯d seen her alive.


    Still, Rafael screamed her name. His throat was raw, but it didn¡¯t matter. He screamed until his voice broke.


    He kept screaming even as someone strapped him to a gurney, even as paramedics muttered in hushed, grave voices just out of reach. He kept screaming as someone gently, almost reverently, pulled a white sheet over the crumpled body next to the mangled car.


    He didn¡¯t stop until the needle slid into his arm and the world dimmed under the grip of sedatives.


    <strong>Present Day ¨C Rafael¡¯s Study, Night</strong>


    Rafael¡¯s eyes snapped open.


    He gasped like he¡¯d been drowning, dragging air into his lungs in ragged pulls. Sweat soaked his shirt, clinging to his spine and brow. His hand trembled as he pushed himself back from the desk. The familiar ache bloomed in his chest¡ªsharp, hollow.


    He hated this part.


    Hated how the past still wrapped around his throat like barbed wire, even after all these years. The memory always came back the same way: loud, brutal, and unforgiving. Falling. The helplessness. The silence that followed.


    He rolled his wheelchair slowly toward therge window, dark now except for the glow of security lights outside. The surveince feed on his tablet showed the driveway.


    Still no sign of Eliana.


    His fingers tapped against the armrest, restless. The waiting scratched at him from the inside¡ªtaunting, constant. He loathed waiting. Always had.


    Because waiting had been the cruelest part of it all.


    After the crash, he¡¯d spent three days in a hospital bed. Alone. Blind. Nine years old and screaming into a pillow until his throat gave out. Asking questions no one would answer.


    The nurses were kind, yes. Their voices were soft. Their hands gentle. But their words? Empty.


    "Your father¡¯sing soon," they whispered. "Just rest, Rafael. He¡¯ll be here."


    But he never came.


    Not that night.


    Not the next.


    Not even the third.


    The only one who showed was his grandfather¡ªstormy-eyed, jaw clenched, disgust radiating from every inch of him.


    "I¡¯ll take him," the old man had growled at the attending doctor. "He¡¯s not rotting away here one more night."


    And that was it.


    No warm reunion. No father¡¯s embrace. Just a silent, bitter march out of the hospital, Rafael clinging to the old man¡¯s coat like a lifeline, tears streaming silently down his cheeks. Blind. Shattered. Alone.


    The world felt colder after that.


    Harder.


    That was the day Rafael Vexley learned how to stop expecting rescue.


    That was the day something inside him stopped hoping.


    A knock jolted him back.


    He didn¡¯t flinch. Just kept staring at the screen.


    "Enter."


    The door creaked open, and ra stepped inside. Her presence was careful, unobtrusive. Hands folded neatly behind her back, voice low and polite. "Sir... it¡¯s gettingte. Would you like something to eat?"


    "No."


    She lingered.


    "She may note tonight," ra offered gently. "Perhaps tomorrow."


    "She¡¯lle." Rafael¡¯s reply was ice. Calm. Final.


    ra shifted her weight. "And if she doesn¡¯t... what should I do with the room I prepared?"


    A pause stretched between them like a de.


    His eyes narrowed slightly. His voice, when it came, was quiet and lethal. "She will."


    ra drew a slow breath. "With all due respect, sir... why are you doing this?" Her tone was still respectful, but something fragile hovered behind it. "You have women practically begging for your attention. Why put Miss Bet through this? Why torment her?"


    Rafael turned his head just slightly in her direction, careful to mask the fact that he could see her through the reflection in the dark ss.


    "Because she¡¯s different."


    ra blinked. "Different how?"


    "She¡¯s not actively chasing my money. Not yet, anyway." His voice dipped into something almost uncertain. "She can stand in front of me and still speak her mind. She doesn¡¯t cower when I go cold. Doesn¡¯t flinch when I¡¯m cruel."


    ra tilted her head. "Then why be cruel?"


    Rafael leaned back in his chair, letting out a softugh. Dry. Joyless. "Because if I don¡¯t test her, how will I know she¡¯s real?"


    ra fell Silent.


    "I¡¯ve seen kindness used like a weapon," he muttered, voice turning sharp at the edges. "Sweet words hiding knives. Smiles hiding teeth."


    "Miss Bet isn¡¯t like that," ra said softly. "And deep down, you know it."


    He didn¡¯t answer.


    Instead, his eyes drifted back to the screen.


    The driveway was still empty.


    A silent battlefield.


    "Get out, ra," he said, voice suddenly cold. "And don¡¯t ever question my choices again."


    She froze.


    "Just because I treat you a little better than the others doesn¡¯t mean we¡¯re equals. Know your ce."


    ra stiffened, bowing her head. "Yes, sir. I¡¯ll be in the kitchen if you need anything."


    She left quietly, shutting the door behind her with practiced grace.


    And then, Rafael was alone again.


    The silence closed in fast, pressing against his skin like a ghost. He hated silence. It sounded too much like that hospital room¡ªthe one where he¡¯d waited, and waited, and waited... for someone who never came.


    The tablet in hisp slipped onto the desk. His fingers hovered above it, then slowly dropped.


    His gaze stayed fixed on the screen.


    The camera feed showed nothing but stillness.


    But he waited anyway.


    "Eliana wille," he murmured to the empty room.


    He said it again¡ªmore to himself than anyone.


    "She always does."

 Chapter 28: Still Mine

    <h4>Chapter 28: Still Mine</h4>


    The evening air hung heavy with the scent of rain as Jason Asher leaned against the balcony of his family¡¯s sprawling penthouse, the city skyline glittering below like a taunt. His hazel eyes, usually bright with calcted charm, were shadowed, his jaw tight as he clutched his phone, still reeling from Eliana¡¯s words. "You don¡¯t know anything about me anymore. Don¡¯t call me again, Jason. I¡¯m done with you." Her voice, sharp and unyielding, echoed in his mind, slicing through the haze of his self-assured arrogance. Eliana¡ªhis Eliana, the girl who once gazed at him like he hung the stars¡ªhad hung up on him. Hung up. On him. The audacity of it stung like a p, and yet, beneath the sting, a flicker of something else stirred: desperation.


    Inside, the penthouse buzzed with Sarai¡¯s presence. The clink of her wine ss against the marble countertop, the sharp click of her stilettos pacing the polished hardwood, the faint hum of her voice as she chatted with someone on her phone¡ªprobably another influencer, another rung on her endlessdder of ambition. Jason¡¯s lips curled into a grimace. Three weeks ago, he¡¯d thought Sarai was the answer, the glittering upgrade to Eliana¡¯s quiet, unpolished devotion. Sarai was fire and sh, all sleek ck hair and designer dresses, her green eyes sharp enough to cut through any room. But now, standing on this balcony with Eliana¡¯s rejection burning in his chest, Jason realized something he¡¯d been too proud to admit: Sarai was exhausting.


    He pushed off the railing, his tailored zer creasing as he stormed back inside, the ss door sliding shut with a soft hiss. Sarai was perched on a velvet barstool, her glossy lips pursed as she scrolled through her phone, her emerald-green dress clinging to her like a second skin. She didn¡¯t look up, but her voice carried that familiar edge of syrupy condescension. "You¡¯re pacing again, Jason. It¡¯s giving me a headache."


    Jason stopped short, his sneakers squeaking against the floor. "Maybe I¡¯m pacing because I¡¯m sick of this," he snapped, his voice low butced with frustration. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, mussing its artful perfection. "Sick of you."


    Sarai¡¯s head snapped up, her green eyes narrowing like a cat¡¯s. "Excuse me?" She set her phone down with deliberate slowness, the ck of it against the counter sounding like a gunshot in the quiet room. "What¡¯s that supposed to mean, Jason? I¡¯m the one who¡¯s been here, holding your hand while you mope over her."


    Jason¡¯s jaw clenched. "Don¡¯t. Don¡¯t bring Eliana into this."


    Saraiughed, a sharp, brittle sound that grated on his nerves. "Oh, please. You¡¯re the one who called her, aren¡¯t you? Don¡¯t think I didn¡¯t hear you out there, whispering her name like some lovesick puppy." She slid off the barstool, her heels clicking as she sauntered toward him, her perfume¡ªa cloying mix of jasmine and ambition¡ªfilling the space between them. "What is it about her, Jason? Her sad little thrift-store sweaters? Her pathetic little apartment? Or is it that she worships the ground you walk on? Because let¡¯s be honest, I don¡¯t."


    Jason¡¯s hands balled into fists at his sides. "Maybe that¡¯s the problem, Sarai. You don¡¯t let me breathe. Everything¡¯s apetition with you. What I wear, what I say, who I talk to¡ªit¡¯s like I¡¯m auditioning for your approval every damn day."


    Sarai¡¯s lips curled into a smirk, but her eyes shed with something darker¡ªjealousy, maybe, or the sharp sting of being called out. "Auditioning? Oh, honey, you¡¯re lucky I even give you the time of day. You think Eliana could keep up with you? With us? She¡¯s nothing. A nobody. My parents have more money in their wine cer than her entire family will ever see again. Guess what, Keh Holloway is gone. Eliana would never be in our ss again!"


    Jason¡¯s chest tightened, a familiar shame creeping up his spine. He¡¯d heard it all before¡ªhis parents¡¯ voices, Sarai¡¯s, the whispers at theirvish parties about Eliana¡¯s "unsuitable" background. Her faded clothes, her father¡¯s hospital bills, the way she carried herself with a quiet dignity that made their world of excess look garish. He¡¯d let those whispers get to him, let his mother¡¯s cold fingers pry the engagement ring off Eliana¡¯s hand, let Sarai¡¯s honeyed promises pull him into her bed. But now, standing here with Sarai¡¯s smug face staring him down, he felt like he was drowning.


    "You don¡¯t get it, do you?" he said, his voice quieter now, but heavy with realization. "Eliana never tried to change me. She didn¡¯t care about my family¡¯s money or what I wore or how I looked at parties. She just... loved me. And I threw it away."


    Sarai¡¯s smirk faltered, her perfectly manicured nails digging into her palms. "Loved you? Jason, she was obsessed with you. Clinging to you like some pathetic little leech. I did you a favor, getting her out of your life." She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "And don¡¯t pretend you didn¡¯t enjoy it. You wanted me. You still do."


    Jason¡¯s stomach churned. He thought of the nights with Sarai, her sharpughter, her endless demands¡ªWear this, not that. Don¡¯t talk to them, they¡¯re beneath us. Why can¡¯t you be more like this? He thought of Eliana¡¯s soft smile, the way she¡¯d hum to herself while sketching sunflowers, the way her honey-brown eyes lit up when he told a stupid joke. Eliana had never asked him to be anything but himself. Sarai, on the other hand, wanted a version of him that didn¡¯t exist¡ªa polished, perfect puppet to match her influencer aesthetic.


    "Did you tell her?" Jason asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the tension. "About us. Did you tell Eliana we were sleeping together?"


    Sarai froze, her green eyes flickering with something¡ªguilt, maybe, or defiance. "What if I did?" she said, tossing her head so her sleek bun caught the light. "She deserved to know the truth. You¡¯re mine, Jason. Not hers. You¡¯ve always been mine."


    Sarai had no clue how Eliana found out but she wasn¡¯t sorry she did.


    The words hit Jason like acid. "Yours?" he repeated, his voice rising with incredulity. "You don¡¯t own me, Sarai. And you sure as hell don¡¯t love me. You love the idea of me, the heir to the Asher fortune, the guy who looks good on your Instagram feed. But Eliana?" He took a step toward her, his hazel eyes zing. "She loved me. The real me. And I was too stupid to see it."


    Sarai¡¯s face twisted, herposure cracking like thin ice. "You¡¯re delusional," she spat. "You think you can just crawl back to her and she¡¯ll take you? After everything? She¡¯s nothing, Jason. Nothing! And you¡ª" She jabbed a finger at his chest, her voice trembling with rage. "You¡¯ll always choose me. Because I¡¯m better than her. Tell me I¡¯m better, Jason. Tell me you love me more."


    Jason stared at her, his heart pounding. He¡¯d heard this demand before, her constant need for validation, her obsession with outshining Eliana. It was suffocating, like a chain tightening around his chest. "I don¡¯t," he said finally, his voice steady. "I don¡¯t love you more. I don¡¯t love you at all."


    The silence that followed was deafening. Sarai¡¯s mouth opened, then closed, her green eyes wide with shock. For the first time, Jason saw her not as the fierce, untouchable queen she pretended to be, but as a desperate girl clinging to a fantasy. "You don¡¯t mean that," she whispered, but her voice wavered.


    "I do," he said, turning away from her. He grabbed his jacket from the couch, his mind racing. Eliana¡¯s words reyed in his head¡ª"I¡¯m done with you." His quiet, gentle Eliana, who¡¯d once called him just to hear his voice, who¡¯d forgiven his ws time and again, had shut him out. And it was his fault. His mother¡¯s voice echoed in his mind, her cold insistence that Eliana was "beneath" them, that Sarai was the better match. He¡¯d listened, let them strip away the ring he¡¯d given Eliana, let them convince him she was disposable. But now, the weight of that mistake crushed him.


    He strode toward the door, ignoring Sarai¡¯s sharp cry of "Jason, wait!" His hand was on the knob when he turned back, his expression hard. "I¡¯m going to get her back," he said, his voice low and resolute. "Eliana¡¯s still mine. And I¡¯m not letting her go again."


    As he stepped into the elevator, the doors closing on Sarai¡¯s stunned face, Jason¡¯s heart raced with a mix of fear and determination. He didn¡¯t know how he¡¯d win Eliana back¡ªdidn¡¯t know if she¡¯d even listen after what he¡¯d done. But one thing was certain: he¡¯d fight for her, no matter what it took. And he¡¯d start by finding out where she was and what exactly Sarai had done to tear them apart.


    Because to Jason Asher, Eliana Bet was still his fiance.

 Chapter 29: Everything Hurts

    <h4>Chapter 29: Everything Hurts</h4>


    A storm had not yete, but Rafael could feel it in his bones.


    The night hung still and heavy around the Vexley mansion, pressing into the walls like a breath held too long. In his office¡ªthe coldest and most secluded wing of the estate¡ªRafael sat behind his massive desk in perfect silence, leaned back in his wheelchair, posture deceptively casual, eyes fixed on the faint glow of the surveince tablet resting on hisp. The quiet hum of the device was the only sound in the room. He swipedzily through the camera feeds, one after the other, each screen showing the same empty driveway, the same quiet gate.


    Still no sign of Eliana.


    He didn¡¯t sigh or frown¡ªjust stared, stone-faced. Waiting.


    Then came the sound. That unmistakable creak of the office door swinging open, slow and theatrical¡ªlike someone wanted to be heard. No knock. No courtesy.


    In one fluid movement, Rafael slid the tablet beneath a stack of neatly arranged papers on his desk, fingers practiced, movements smooth. He didn¡¯t turn around. He didn¡¯t have to. His eyes remained fixed on the reflection in the window¡¯s ss¡ªalways watching, always aware, even in the dark.


    He tilted his head slightly, lips curling into the ghost of a smirk. Then, in that low, dry voice of his¡ªcalm but sharp enough to cut ss¡ªhe spoke.


    "Who¡¯s there?"


    The answer came like a hiss, slick and poisonous.


    Augh. Cool. Mocking. And far too familiar.


    "Oh my," came a voice like silkced with venom. "Still ying the poor, helpless cripple? My, my, how pitiful you look, slumped in that chair, staring at nothing. It¡¯s almost tragic."


    Mirabel Vexley stepped into the room like it belonged to her. Her heels tapped against the polished floor with deliberate slowness¡ªeach step a performance, each click a threat wrapped in elegance. She was, as always, dressed to kill. Literally, if necessary.


    Tall and effortlessly poised, she moved like a panther in a ballgown¡ªgraceful, dangerous,pletely in control. Her tan skin gleamed under the low light, her dark hair twisted into a wless chignon that screamed perfection. A string of pearls clung to her neck like a noose made fashionable, and her silk dress rustled softly as she walked, a whisper of a sound that belied the sharp edge in her smile.


    Rafael didn¡¯t flinch.


    He didn¡¯t blink.


    But his jaw did tighten, ever so slightly.


    "Mirabel," he said tly, his voice a blend of exhaustion and ice. "What a lovely surprise. Still slithering around the house like a snake in luxury, I see."


    Her smile widened, but it didn¡¯t touch her eyes. "You wound me."


    "No, but I¡¯d like to."


    Herughter sharpened, slicing through the room. She sauntered closer, her heels a stato rhythm, and leaned against the edge of his desk, her manicured nails tapping lightly on the wood. "You¡¯re such a burden, Rafael. Dragging yourself around this house, pretending you¡¯re still relevant. Honestly, you¡¯d be doing us all a favor if you just... didn¡¯t exist anymore." Her lips curled into a cruel smile, her eyes glinting with malice. "A blind, broken boy ying at being a man. It¡¯s pathetic."


    Rafael¡¯s fingers twitched against the armrest, but his voice, when it came, was smooth as silk, each word polished to a lethal edge. "Mirabel, I¡¯ll make you a deal. I¡¯ll die the moment you do¡ªjust so I can have the pleasure of watching you burn in hell first." His lips curved into a smile, cold and sharp, the kind that promised retribution without raising his voice. "I¡¯d hate to miss the show."


    Mirabel¡¯s eyes narrowed, herposure flickering like a candle in a storm. She straightened, folding her arms, the pearls at her wrist catching the light. "You ungrateful little wretch," she snapped. "What are you even doing here, creeping around in the dark like some damn ghost? If it were up to me, you¡¯d be out of my house and on the curb faster than you could blink."


    "Your house?" Rafael¡¯sugh was low, almost a growl, cutting her off. He leaned forward slightly, his voice steady butced with a threat that seemed to hum in the air. "Let¡¯s get one thing straight, Mirabel. This mansion belonged to my grandfather. And when he died, he left it to me. Not your husband. Not you. Not your greedy, sniveling children. You¡¯re all guests here¡ªstrangers, really. So I suggest you stop slithering into my wing like you own it. Or I¡¯ll have you and your brood thrown out faster than you can reapply your lipstick."


    Mirabel¡¯s fists clenched at her sides, her knuckles paling against her skin. Her face twisted, a sh of fury breaking through her polished facade. "You little bastard," she hissed, the word venomous, spitting from her lips like poison. "I came here because your father wants to see you. Not that you deserve his attention."


    Rafael tilted his head, his smile unwavering, chilling in its calm. "If my father wants me, he can drag himself here. Or better yet, pick up a phone. I¡¯d rather not see his face¡ªor yours, for that matter." He paused, letting the words sink in, then added, "You¡¯re still here, Mirabel. Why? Hoping to steal something from the blind man?"


    "You¡¯re a disgrace," she spat, her voice trembling with rage. "Disrespectful, useless, sitting there in your deserved misery. You think you¡¯re clever, don¡¯t you? Hiding behind your little tough act. You¡¯re nothing but a crippled fool."


    Rafael¡¯s smile didn¡¯t falter, but his eyes¡ªhidden behind the lie of blindness¡ªburned with a quiet fire. "Get out, Mirabel," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper, but heavy with authority. "Or I¡¯ll have someone drag you out. And trust me, I¡¯ll enjoy watching that far more than you¡¯d like."


    Mirabel¡¯s lips parted, a sharp retort on her tongue, but the steel in Rafael¡¯s voice stopped her cold. She straightened, her heels clicking as she stepped back, her face a mask of barely contained fury. "You¡¯ll regret this," she snarled, her voice dripping with disdain. "You¡¯re nothing, Rafael. A broken boy in a broken chair. Stay in your corner and rot." With a final, venomous re, she turned and swept out of the room, the door mming behind her with a force that echoed through the silence.


    Rafael exhaled slowly, his shoulders easing as the tension drained from the air. His hand reached for the tablet, pulling it from its hiding ce. The screen flickered to life, showing the same empty driveway. His fingers hovered over it, his heart a tangled knot of anticipation and anger. "Eliana," he murmured, his voice softer now, almost tender. "Where the hell are you?"


    <strong>******</strong>


    Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Eliana Bet pushed through the cold night like a storm in sneakers. Each step hit the cracked pavement with tired defiance, her breath curling in the air like smoke from a dying fire. The streetlights flickered overhead, creating shadows that danced around her like ghosts. Her thin jacket clung to her frame, useless against the biting wind, and her curls bounced wildly with every stride¡ªuntamed, like her thoughts.


    She was running on empty. No money, no ride, just raw determination and a pair of battered sneakers. The bus stop was still a mile away. Rafael¡¯s mansion? Even farther. But turning back wasn¡¯t an option. Not tonight.


    Her chest tightened under the weight of it all¡ªRafael¡¯s venomous words, the secrets she was choking on, her father¡¯s fragile trust, and that infuriating call from Jason. It all pressed in, sharp and heavy, threatening to crack her from the inside out. But the image of Rafael¡ªcold eyes, cruel smirk, every word like a de¡ªlit a fire in her bones. She wasn¡¯t going to let him win. Not tonight.


    So she kept moving. Through the cold. Through the doubt. Through the storm that lived inside her.


    She reached a busy intersection, the roar of traffic filling her ears. The crosswalk light blinked green, and she stepped forward dragging her box behind, her mind drifting to Rafael¡¯s cold, piercing gaze¡ªthose eyes she swore could see her, even if he imed they couldn¡¯t. A sudden screech of tires snapped her back to reality. Headlights blinded her, and before she could react, a car barreled through the intersection, its horn ring.


    The impact was a thunderp of pain.


    Eliana¡¯s body mmed into the pavement, the impact ripping the air from her lungs as chaos exploded around her. Shouts rang out, sharp and panicked, slicing through the night like sirens. Hands were on her¡ªtoo many, too fast¡ªtrying to help, trying to hold her together.


    "Somebody call an ambnce!"


    "She¡¯s not moving!"


    "Is she breathing?!"


    The voices blurred into a single frantic hum. Eliana tried to speak, to move, but her body betrayed her¡ªlimbs like lead, thoughts slipping away like smoke in the wind. The world spun on a crooked axis, the streetlights melting into a hazy blur.


    Somewhere in the distance, an ambnce screamed through the night¡ªbut it felt miles away from where Elianay, the cold pavement hugging her like a final embrace. Her body throbbed with pain, her breath shallow and uneven.


    And still... herst thought was of Rafael. That smug bastard, probably pacing, waiting to tear her apart for beingte. He wanted her broken, desperate¡ªjust another puppet on his string.


    But now, sprawled on the unforgiving asphalt, a darker thought crept in, quiet and cruel: <i>If she didn¡¯t make it... would her dad¡¯s hospital bill still be paid?</i>


    Everything hurt, but that hit the hardest.

 Chapter 30: The Puppet Master

    <h4>Chapter 30: The Puppet Master</h4>


    The sharp, sterile sting of antiseptic filled Eliana Bet¡¯s nose, dragging her back from the abyss like a hook through smoke. Consciousness returned slowly¡ªclumsily¡ªlike it had to fight its way through thick fog. Her eyelids fluttered against the weight of exhaustion, her vision swimming in a dizzy coge of white walls, blinking monitors, and the steady beep of machines that sounded far too close to a countdown.


    Pain hit next¡ªraw and unforgiving. A sharp throb pulsed in her ribs with every shallow breath, and her right hand felt like dead weight, tightly bound in stiff bandages. Shey still, her body aching in ces she hadn¡¯t known could ache, while above her, a harsh fluorescent light bathed everything in a clinical glow.


    Her lungs caught on a breath, her chest rising shakily as the memories mmed into her like she was reliving the ident.


    Screeching tires.


    Blinding headlights.


    The sickening crunch of metal.


    The pavement lunging up like a fist.


    Suddenly, a voice broke through the chaos of her mind.


    "Hello there?" Calm. Crisp. Professional.


    She blinked toward the sound, her gaze slowly sharpening on a man in a white coat. His nametag read Dr. Gary, and his expression held that perfect bnce of authority andpassion¡ªlike someone who¡¯d mastered the art of telling people how their world had just fallen apart.


    "You¡¯re awake," he said, relief in his tone. "You gave us quite a scare. Can you tell me your name, miss?"


    Eliana¡¯s throat felt like sandpaper soaked in fire. She tried to speak, but it came out as a dry rasp. Swallowing hurt more than it should have, sending a jolt of pain through her chest.


    "Eliana... Bet," she whispered, voice raw. "What... what happened?"


    Dr. Gary adjusted his sses and pulled a chair closer, his tone even but gentle. "You were struck by a car at an intersection. The impact fractured a few ribs and broke your right hand. But no internal bleeding, no concussion. You¡¯re stable. Lucky, Miss Bet. Very lucky."


    Lucky.


    The word echoed in her mind, cold and sharp.


    She turned her head slowly, her cheek brushing the stiff pillow. An IV dripped steadily into her arm, the tubing snaking down like a leash. The walls felt closer now¡ªtight and suffocating, like the whole room was closing in, inch by inch.


    "How long... do I have to stay here?" she asked, voice barely audible.


    "Just for the night," Dr. Gary replied, jotting something on his clipboard. "We¡¯ll monitor you to make sure there are noplications. If all goes well, you can be discharged tomorrow morning." He paused, his pen stilling as he looked at her, his expression shifting to one of professional detachment. "There¡¯s the matter of the hospital bill, however. You¡¯ll need to settle it before you¡¯re released. Do you have insurance, or... perhaps a guardian we can contact to help with the arrangements?"


    Eliana¡¯s heart sank, a cold weight settling in her chest. She stared at the ceiling, the fluorescent light blurring as tears pricked her eyes. Insurance? Money? She had neither. Her father, her only family, was wasting away in another hospital across town, his own bills a noose around her neck. She could almost hear his frail voice, telling her to keep going, to be strong, but how could she tell this doctor that she had no one? No one but a sick father who couldn¡¯t even get out of bed, let alone pay for her carelessness.


    "I... I don¡¯t have anyone," she admitted, her voice trembling. "Just... my dad, but he¡¯s... he¡¯s not well. He¡¯s in a hospital, too."


    Dr. Gray¡¯s brow furrowed, his empathy flickering back to life. "I see. I¡¯m sorry to hear that. Do you have any belongings with you? A phone, perhaps, to contact someone who could help?"


    Eliana¡¯s mind raced, her thoughts a tangled mess of pain and desperation. Her box¡ªher box that held her entire life¡ªher clothes, her dad¡¯s old watch, the few dors she had left. And her phone. If they¡¯d found those, maybe... maybe she could call him. The thought made her stomach churn, but what choice did she have? "My stuff," she said, her voice stronger now, fueled by a spark of resolve. "Did they... did they find my box? My phone? I was with a box and a phone when the ident happened."


    Dr. Gary nodded, turning to a nurse who hovered near the door, her scrubs a faded shade of blue. "Nurse Carter, could you check on Miss Bet¡¯s belongings? See if they were brought in from the ident site."


    The nurse, a wiry woman with a no-nonsense ponytail, gave a curt nod. "I¡¯ll be right back with them, Doctor." Her sneakers squeaked against the linoleum as she disappeared into the hallway.


    Dr. Gary offered Eliana a small, reassuring smile. "We¡¯ll get that sorted for you. I need to check on a few other patients, but Nurse Carter will bring your things if she finds them. Try to rest, alright?" He didn¡¯t wait for a response, his footsteps fading as he left the room, the door clicking shut behind him.


    Eliana sank back against the pillow, her bandaged hand resting uselessly on herp. The silence was deafening, broken only by the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor. She closed her eyes, fighting the tears that threatened to spill. She was trapped¡ªtrapped by her injuries, her poverty, her promises to her father. And Rafael Vexley, that cold, calcting bastard, held all the strings.


    Minutes dragged by, each one heavier than thest, until the door swung open again. Nurse Carter wheeled in Eliana¡¯s battered box, its corners crushed, the decorative paints peeling like old skin. In her other hand, she held a cracked phone, its screen a spiderweb of fractures. "This is everything they brought in," the nurse said, her voice brisk but not unkind. She set the box beside the bed and handed Eliana the phone. "You¡¯re lucky this thing still works. Barely."


    Eliana¡¯s fingers trembled as she took the phone, the screen flickering as she swiped it on. The disy was a mess, but she could just make out the icons. Her heart pounded as she scrolled to James¡¯ number¡ªRafael¡¯s secretary, the only lifeline she had to the man who¡¯d turned her life into a chess game. She hesitated, dread pooling in her gut like poison. Calling James meant calling Rafael. It meant admitting she needed him. It meant sinking deeper into his debt, his control, his world.


    "Miss?" Nurse Carter¡¯s voice snapped her back. "You okay? Need help with that?"


    Eliana bit her lip, her eyes burning. "Could you... could you call this number for me?" She held out the phone, James¡¯ contact glowing faintly on the ruined screen. "Tell him... tell him I¡¯m in the hospital. That I need help with the bills. Please."


    The nurse¡¯s eyes softened, just for a moment, before she took the phone. "Alright, sweetheart. I¡¯ll make the call. You just lie back and try to rx." She scribbled the number on a notepad and headed for the door, her ponytail swinging as she left.


    Eliana sank into the bed, the tears she¡¯d fought so hard to hold back spilling down her cheeks. They burned, hot and silent, tracing paths across her skin. If Rafael paid her bills, she¡¯d be his¡ªmore than she already was. Every favor, every dor, was another chain around her wrists. She pictured his smug smirk, those steel-grey eyes that saw too much, even when they didn¡¯t. She had no other options. No money. No one else. Just him.


    She pressed her good hand to her face, muffling a sob. "Damn you, Rafael," she whispered. "Damn you for making me need you."


    <strong>*******</strong>


    Meanwhile, across the city, Rafael Vexleyy sprawled across his silk-sheeted bed, the vast bedroom cloaked in shadows. The fight with Mirabel still simmered in his veins, her venomous words echoing like a bad song. He¡¯d waited for Eliana¡ªtwo hours more after Mirabel had left, the empty driveway on his tablet mocking him. She¡¯d defied him, and that defiance stung more than he cared to admit. He¡¯d tossed the tablet aside, its screen dark, and stormed to bed, his anger a tight knot in his chest.


    His phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen casting a cold blue glow across the room. He grabbed it, expecting another of Mirabel¡¯s pathetic attempts to rile him. Instead, it was a text from an unknown number, the words cutting through his haze of fury like a knife.


    <strong><i>"Is Eliana just like the others? Another gold-digger ying your game?"</i></strong>


    Rafael¡¯s lips curled into a smirk, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He could almost hear the sender¡¯s smug tone, his respected ally fishing for a reaction. He typed back, his words sharp and deliberate.


    <i>"Don¡¯t get cocky yet. Eliana¡¯s different¡ªsoft-hearted, naive, thinks she¡¯s noble. But she¡¯s still after the money, just like the rest. Watch me prove it. By tomorrow, she¡¯ll be begging for my help, and I¡¯ll have her right where I want her."</i>


    He hit send, the smirk fading as he tossed the phone onto the bed. The room felt too quiet, the weight of his own words pressing against him. Eliana was different¡ªhe¡¯d seen it in her eyes, that flicker of defiance, that quiet strength. But he couldn¡¯t afford to believe in her. Not yet. Not when everyone else had betrayed him.


    He switched off the phone, the screen going ck, and closed his eyes. Tomorrow, he¡¯d change his approach. Tomorrow, he¡¯d tighten the strings on his little puppet. Tomorrow, Eliana Bet would learn just how deep his control ran.

 Chapter 31: Groaning Walls

    <h4>Chapter 31: Groaning Walls</h4>


    Morning light slipped through the heavy curtains, spreading warm streaks across the room. It glowed on the polished floors, skimmed past tall bookshelves, and touched the edges of furniture too perfect to be touched. The air carried the scent of cedar and leather, with something colder beneath it¡ªlike power held too tightly.


    Rafael Vexleyy across his bed, sheets twisted around him. His dark, wavy hair was a mess, but his eyes were wide open, locked on the ceiling above him like it owed him something. Last night¡¯s anger hadn¡¯t left. It just curled tighter inside him, hot and sharp, waiting for a reason to explode.


    Eliana hadn¡¯te back.


    She was supposed to. He told her to. And yet, she didn¡¯t. That disobedience, that simple refusal, burned more than it should have.


    With a quiet breath, he swung his legs off the bed and sat up, every movement slow and controlled¡ªlike he was daring someone to watch him. He took in the room around him: the crystal chandelier above, the fine Persian rug under his feet, the tablet he¡¯d thrown across the room still lying face-down by the dresser.


    Even if he could see it all. Even if he could walk.


    He wore the whole paralysis thing like armor. No one was allowed to know¡ªnot his staff, not his friends, not even his family. Especially not his family. Letting them think he was weak gave him the upper hand. And Rafael never gave that up willingly.


    Not when people were circling like sharks.


    "ra!" he barked, his voice sharp enough to shake the walls. The door creaked open, and ra, shuffled in, her ck bun impable despite the early hour. Behind her trailed two maids, their starched uniforms rustling as they carried a tray of pressed suits and polished shoes.


    "Good morning, Mr. Vexley," ra said, her tone warm but professional, betraying none of the exhaustion of serving a man who demanded perfection. "Your navy Tom Ford suit today, or the charcoal Armani?"


    "Charcoal," Rafael muttered, his jaw tight. He stood, allowing the maids to fuss over him, their hands deftly buttoning his crisp white shirt, adjusting the silk tie, and slipping the tailored jacket over his broad shoulders. He despised the charade¡ªevery touch, every adjustment, a reminder of the lie he lived. But it was necessary. The world saw a blind, crippled billionaire, and that illusion kept him safe. For now.


    ra handed him his dark sses, her eyes flickering with something like pity before she masked it. "Will you be needing anything else before breakfast, sir?"


    "No," he said curtly, easing himself into the sleek, custom-built wheelchair that waited by the door. The maids stepped back, their heads bowed, as ra pushed him toward the hallway. The wheels glided silently over the marble floors, the mansion¡¯s grandeur unfolding around them¡ªcrystal sconces, gilded frames, a staircase that spiraled like a promise of power. Rafael¡¯s fingers drummed against the armrest, his mind still on Eliana. Where the hell is she? he thought, his lips twitching into a scowl. She¡¯ll learn to obey. They all do.


    The dining room was a cavern of elegance, its long mahogany table gleaming under a chandelier that dripped with crystals. Rafael expected to see James waiting with the morning reports, a cup of ck coffee steaming beside him. Instead, he found his father, Mr. Vexley Sr., standing at the head of the table, his silver hair glinting like a de. The older man¡¯s sharp features were twisted into a scowl, his tailored suit immacte but his posture rigid with barely contained fury.


    "Rafael," Vexley Sr. said, his voice low and dangerous, "why didn¡¯t youe to mest night? Your mother told you I wanted to see you."


    Rafael¡¯s lips curled into a cold, mockingugh, the sound echoing off the high ceilings. He leaned back in his wheelchair, his steel-grey eyes glinting with defiance he didn¡¯t bother to hide. "First of all, Father, Mirabel isn¡¯t my mother. She¡¯s your trophy wife, nothing more. Second, I¡¯m the one in this damn chair, remember? Blind and crippled." He gestured to himself with exaggerated flourish, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "If you want to talk, youe to me. Not the other way around."


    Vexley Sr.¡¯s face reddened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. The room seemed to shrink under the weight of his anger, the air crackling with tension. "You insolent¡ª" he began, but then he stopped, exhaling sharply through his nose. He straightened, smoothing his jacket as if brushing off Rafael¡¯s words. "Fine. Let¡¯s get to the point. I came to discuss your grandfather¡¯s estate."


    Rafael¡¯s jaw tightened, his fingers gripping the armrests until his knuckles whitened. He knew where this was going. He always did. "Go on," he said, his voice t, daring his father to continue.


    "Caleb," Vexley Sr. said, his tone softening as if he were discussing the weather. "Your stepbrother. He¡¯s struggling, Rafael. You have more than enough¡ªmorepanies, more properties than any one man needs. Your grandfather¡¯s estate... that eastern parcel, the one with the vineyards. Sign it over to Caleb. It¡¯s only fair."


    Rafael¡¯sugh was sharp, bitter, slicing through the room like a whip. "Fair?" he spat, leaning forward, his eyes zing despite the lie of their supposed cloudiness. "Let¡¯s talk about fair, Father. You wrote me out of your will because I was blind. Left everything to your precious children. But Grandfather? He saw through your bullshit. He left everything to me. And now you want me to hand over what¡¯s mine to Caleb? Not a chance. Not in this lifetime."


    Vexley Sr.¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowing. "You¡¯re being selfish, Rafael. You¡ª"


    "Selfish?" Rafael interrupted, his voice rising, each word a dagger. "I¡¯m the one who lost everything¡ªmy sight, my mobility, my trust in this family. You think I¡¯ll just give away what I fought to keep? Dream on, old man."


    The door swung open, cutting through the tension like a guillotine. James stepped inside, his wiry frame dwarfed by the grandeur of the room. His sses glinted under the chandelier¡¯s light, and his face was pale, his usualposure frayed. "Mr. Vexley, I¡ªoh, I¡¯m so sorry," he stammered, bowing slightly to Vexley Sr. "I didn¡¯t mean to interrupt."


    Rafael¡¯s gaze snapped to James, his irritation tempered by curiosity. "What is it, James?" he asked, his tone sharp but not unkind. "Speak."


    James hesitated, ncing at Vexley Sr. before stepping closer to Rafael. He leaned down, his voice a hushed whisper against Rafael¡¯s ear. "It¡¯s Eliana, sir. She¡¯s been in an ident. She¡¯s in the hospital."


    Rafael¡¯s heart lurched, a jolt of something he refused to name¡ªfear, guilt, something softer¡ªflooding his chest. His fingers tightened on the armrests, his mind racing. Eliana. Hurt. The image of her honey-brown eyes, defiant yet vulnerable, shed before him, and for a moment, the room seemed to tilt.


    "Father," Rafael said, his voice steady despite the storm inside him, "something urgent hase up. We¡¯ll finish this another time." He didn¡¯t wait for a response, his hands already gripping the controls of his chair, propelling himself toward the door with a speed that belied his supposed frailty.


    "Rafael!" Vexley Sr. called after him, his voice a mix of anger and confusion. "Where are you going? We¡¯re not done here!"


    But Rafael didn¡¯t answer. The dining room, with its glittering chandelier and suffocating expectations, faded behind him as he rolled through the mansion¡¯s wide halls, ra hurrying to keep up. "James, get the car," he snapped, his voice low but urgent. "Now."


    James nodded, already pulling out his phone to alert the driver. They reached the front entrance, where Rafael¡¯s custom-modified Bentley waited, its sleek ck frame gleaming in the morning light. The ramp lowered with a soft hum, allowing Rafael to maneuver his wheelchair inside. James slid into the driver¡¯s seat, his hands steady despite the tension radiating from his employer.


    "Straight to the hospital," Rafael said, his voice clipped as he stared out the tinted window, his reflection a mask of cold determination. "And step on it."


    The car pulled away, gravel crunching under the tires, leaving Vexley Sr.¡¯s shouts fading in the distance. Rafael¡¯s mind was a whirlwind¡ªEliana, broken and alone in a hospital bed, her soft curls syed against a sterile pillow, her honey-brown eyes dimmed with pain. He clenched his jaw, his fingers digging into the leather armrests. She defied me, he thought, but the anger felt hollow now, overshadowed by something he couldn¡¯t name. Something dangerous.


    As the city blurred past, Rafael¡¯s thoughts spiraled. Eliana wasn¡¯t like the others¡ªhe¡¯d known it from the start, even if he¡¯d fought to deny it. Her quiet strength, her stubborn hope, had left a scratch on the walls he¡¯d built around himself. And now, with her life hanging in the bnce, he felt those walls groaning. He leaned back, closing his eyes, the hum of the engine a faint echo against the storm in his heart.

 Chapter 32: Worried Billionaire

    <h4>Chapter 32: Worried Billionaire</h4>


    Rafael Vexley¡¯s Bentley moved like a shadow through the city, quiet but impossible to ignore. Its engine rumbled low, steady, matching the storm brewing beneath Rafael Vexley¡¯s calm exterior. Inside, silence ruled. The kind that held weight. The kind that made you feel like something was about to snap.


    Rafael sat still, his fingers tapping lightly against the armrest of his custom-built wheelchair. Leather creaked under his sharp suit. His eyes stared through the tinted window, catching shes of neon signs and strangers moving through the early morning like ghosts. The city was wide awake, butpletely unaware of the war going on inside him.


    Eliana.


    Her name echoed like a warning. A memory he didn¡¯t want but couldn¡¯t shake. Blood in her curls. Her body broken on the street. Eyes that used to shine with defiance, now dull with pain. He clenched his jaw. He couldn¡¯t afford to feel this. Not for her. Not for anyone.


    Worry meant weakness. And Rafael Vexley didn¡¯t do weak.


    He wasn¡¯t built for feelings. Not anymore. He¡¯d buried that part of himself many years ago, right alongside the people who taught him to survive by never letting anyone in.


    But then the hospital came into view, all cold ss and hard edges, towering like it knew things about him he hadn¡¯t said out loud.


    And suddenly, his heart beat just a little too loud. Too fast. Too human.


    Damn it.


    The Bentley¡¯s tires screeched as it pulled into the hospital¡¯s circr drive, the sleek ck beast drawing every eye in the vicinity. Rafael Vexley¡¯s presence was a storm cloud breaking over the modestmunity hospital, a ce of chipped linoleum floors and overworked staff, far removed from the gleaming private facilities he was known to frequent. The morning sun glinted off the car¡¯s tinted windows, hiding the man inside¡ªa man whose heart pounded with a worry he refused to name, even as it wed at his chest.


    James leapt out, his wiry frame moving with practiced efficiency as he lowered the ramp for Rafael¡¯s wheelchair. The hospital¡¯s automatic doors hissed open, and Rafael rolled forward, his jaw set, his grey eyes¡ªsharp and seeing¡ªscanning the lobby. The air was heavy with antiseptic and hushed murmurs, and as Rafael entered, the room seemed to hold its breath.


    Nurses froze mid-step, charts clutched to their chests. Patients in faded gowns craned their necks from waiting room chairs, their whispers rippling like wind through grass. "Is that Rafael Vexley?" one elderly woman muttered, her eyes wide behind thick sses. "The billionaire? Here?" A younger nurse, her scrubs patterned with cartoon kittens, leaned toward her colleague. "Why¡¯s he at this hospital? He could buy the whole ce and burn it down for fun." Her friend shushed her, but her gaze lingered on Rafael, equal parts awe and fear.


    Rafael felt their stares, their curiosity prickling his skin like static. He kept his expression cold, unreadable, letting them believe in the myth of the blind, crippled tycoon. But he saw everything¡ªthe way a doctor adjusted his tie nervously, the way a teenage patient snapped a sneaky photo with her phone. He saw, and he hated it. Hated the spectacle, hated the vulnerability of being here, hated the gnawing dread that had driven him to this ce. <i>Eliana</i>. Her name was a pulse in his veins, a rhythm he couldn¡¯t silence.


    James walked a step behind, his sses glinting under the fluorescent lights, his face a mask of professional calm. But his eyes darted to Rafael, noting the tension in his employer¡¯s shoulders, the way his fingers gripped the armrests of his chair. "Sir, Miss Bet is in Room 214," James said softly, guiding them toward the elevator.


    Rafael gave a curt nod, his mind elsewhere. <i>What would you say now? </i>he thought, addressing the secret friend who haunted his thoughts¡ªa figure known only to him, their cryptic messages a lifeline in his shadowed world. <i>Would youugh at me for rushing here? Tell me I¡¯m a fool for caring? </i>The friend¡¯stest text, received justst night, burned in his memory<i>: "Is Eliana just like the others? Another gold-digger ying your game?"</i> Rafael¡¯s jaw tightened. A flicker of a smile ghosted across his lips¡ªdry, bitter, and more armor than amusement.


    The elevator dinged, and they stepped into a hallway buzzing with activity. Nurses parted like the Red Sea as Rafael approached, their whispers trailing him like smoke. "He¡¯s here for someone?" a male orderly muttered to a janitor. "Must be serious. Vexley doesn¡¯t slum it." Rafael¡¯s jaw tightened. <i>Slum it. </i>The words stung, not for himself, but for her. Eliana, lying in a bed in this underfunded hospital, because of him.


    At Room 214, James knocked softly before pushing the door open. The room was small, the walls a faded mint green, the air heavy with the scent of iodine. Eliana Bety propped against pillows, her honey-brown eyes wide with shock as Rafael rolled in, James at his side. Her curly ck hair was a tangled halo, her warm skin paler than usual, a bandage taped across her left forearm. Her hospital gown, toorge, slipped off one shoulder, revealing the delicate curve of her corbone. She looked fragile, yet her gaze held a spark of defiance that made Rafael¡¯s chest tighten.


    "Mr. Vexley?" Eliana¡¯s voice was hoarse, disbelieving. She sat up straighter, wincing slightly, her full lips parting in surprise. "What are you doing here?"


    Rafael¡¯s eyes narrowed, his tone sharp as a de. "What am I doing here? What were you doing, Miss Bet, wandering the streets like a stray at midnight? You didn¡¯t see the caring? Were you too busy daydreaming to watch where you were going?" His words were a whip, but beneath them, his heart thundered. <i>You could have died</i>, he thought, the image of her broken body shing unbidden in his mind.


    Eliana¡¯s eyes shed, her shock giving way to indignation. She crossed her arms, ignoring the tug of the IV line and the pain on the right hand. "Excuse me? You¡¯re the one who ordered me to pack my life and move to your house that night. I was rushing because of <i>you</i>. If I hadn¡¯t left sote, I wouldn¡¯t be here!" Her voice rose, not loud, but firm, each word a pebble flung at his armor. She wasn¡¯t timid, wasn¡¯t cowed by his wealth or his reputation. And that, Rafael realized with a jolt, was dangerous.


    James, standing by the door, blinked rapidly, his mouth slightly agape. He¡¯d seen CEOs quiver under Rafael¡¯s blind re, yet here was this young woman, barely 24, trading barbs with him like an equal. <i>Who is she really?</i> James wondered, his curiosity deepening. <i>And why isn¡¯t he shutting her down? </i>Rafael¡¯s usual temper, a wildfire that consumed any defiance, was absent. Instead, his eyes held something James couldn¡¯t name¡ªsomething almost... human.


    "Ordered you?" Rafael scoffed, leaning forward, his voice low and mocking. "I don¡¯t recall putting a gun to your head, Miss Bet. You chose to work for me. You chose to follow my instructions. Don¡¯t me me for your carelessness." But his words felt hollow, his guilt a stone in his gut. He¡¯d pushed her, demanded her presence, and now shey here, bruised and battered. My fault, a voice whispered, one he silenced with a clench of his jaw.


    Eliana rolled her eyes, a gesture so brazen it startled a chokedugh from James, quickly smothered. "Carelessness?" she shot back. "I was crossing at a green light. The driver was probably drunk. But sure, let¡¯s make this my fault." Her tone dripped with sarcasm, but her eyes held a flicker of hurt, quickly masked. She leaned back, her gaze steady. "And don¡¯t think I¡¯m scared of you, Mr. Vexley. I¡¯m not."


    Rafael¡¯s lips twitched, a spark of something¡ªamusement, respect?¡ªshing in his eyes before he buried it. "Scared or not, you¡¯re still in my employ. This little stunt won¡¯t excuse you from your duties." He gestured to the bed, his voice cold but his heart racing. <i>Get up. Be okay. Please.</i>


    Before Eliana could retort, the door swung open, and a harried doctor entered, his white coat wrinkled, his eyes widening at the sight of Rafael. "Mr. Vexley, sir," he stammered, bowing slightly. "An honor. Miss Bet is stable¡ªminor contusions, a sprained wrist. She¡¯s free to go." He nced at Eliana, then back at Rafael, clearly unsure who held the reins.


    Rafael nodded curtly. "James, handle the bills. Anything the hospital needs, see to it." He turned to Eliana, his tone brisk. "Stop lounging like an invalid, Miss Bet. We¡¯re leaving."


    Eliana groaned, swinging her legs over the bed¡¯s edge, her movements slow but deliberate. "I never said I wasn¡¯t working," she muttered, her eyes narrowing. "But let¡¯s be clear¡ªI¡¯m paying you back. Every penny you¡¯re covering here, I¡¯ll return." Her voice was fierce, her pride a me that warmed the sterile room.


    Rafael raised an eyebrow, his mask of indifference cracking just enough for James to notice. "We¡¯ll see about that," he said, his voice softer than he intended. He rolled toward the door, pausing to nce back at her. <i>Stubborn girl,</i> he thought, a strange warmth curling in his chest. <i>What are you doing to me?</i>


    As they left the room, the hospital¡¯s whispers followed, a chorus of awe and spection. Eliana, leaning on James for support, felt Rafael¡¯s presence like a shadow¡ªcold,manding, yet inexplicably protective. And somewhere, in the recesses of Rafael¡¯s mind, his secret friend¡¯s voice echoed<i>: "She¡¯s got you, Rafi. And you don¡¯t even see it."</i>

 Chapter 33: Distracted

    <h4>Chapter 33: Distracted</h4>


    The hospital corridor thrummed with tension¡ªa low, electric murmur of beeping machines, scuffed linoleum, and voices too hushed to trust. Rafael Vexley moved like a shadow through it all, his custom wheelchair gliding with effortless grace, the quiet spin of the wheels sounding more like a warning than a whisper.


    Next to him walked Eliana Bet, dragging he beat up box behind her like a tired soldier hauling memories. Her right arm was bound in a sling, a stark white bandage slicing across the warmth of her skin like a scar that hadn¡¯t learned how to hide. She wore a navy-blue sweater¡ªin¡ªand faded jeans that clung to her like old regrets. The gown was gone, the hospital smell almost scrubbed off. Her curls tumbled around her face in soft, unruly waves, defiant and unapologetic. Her honey-brown eyes flicked around like she expected judgment at every turn¡ªbecause it was already waiting.


    And the corridor delivered.


    Nurses froze mid-step, charts clutched to their chests like shields. Whispers filled the air.


    "Are my eyes deceiving me? Rafael Vexley?" one nurse breathed, like speaking his name too loudly might shatter something. "Is he really here? For her?"


    A patient with a walker stared in open disbelief, jaw ck.


    Rafael was a name that didn¡¯t belong in this kind of hospital. He was legendary¡ªan elusive billionaire ghost with rumors swirling around him like smoke: blind, paralyzed, unreachable, tyrant. The kind of man whose existence lived in business headlines, not broken hospital tiles.


    And yet¡ªhere he was.


    Beside her.


    Eliana could feel the weight of the stares bitting her like a second injury. The sling ached. Her box thumped behind her. She didn¡¯t flinch, but she didn¡¯t meet anyone¡¯s eyes either.


    "That¡¯s Keh Holloway¡¯s granddaughter, isn¡¯t it?" one nurse murmured to another, barely blinking. "The adopted one."


    There was a pause. Then a scoff.


    "She¡¯s supposed to be swimming in diamonds. Not limping out of here looking like¡ª"


    "She was in an ident, remember?"


    "An ident that got her hospitalized. And he shows up for her?"


    Rafael said nothing. He didn¡¯t need to. His presence was thunder in silk¡ªquiet, but unmistakably powerful despite his disabilities. His expression was unreadable, but the way he kept pace with Eliana said more than words. Protective. Steady. Close. Like the whole damn hospital could burn down around them and he¡¯d still be there.


    Eliana¡¯s cheeks burned as she caught the words, her fingers tugging at the hem of her sweater. She tried to angle her face away, but the corridor was a gauntlet of stares. Phones were already out, shes popping like tiny explosions, capturing her beside Rafael¡¯s imposing figure. His steel-grey eyes, hidden behind the pretense of clouded blindness, scanned the crowd with a predator¡¯s precision, though his face remained a mask of cold indifference. Whispers swirled like smoke. "Are they dating?" a young patient whispered to her friend, giggling. "She could¡¯ve picked someone who isn¡¯t, you know, <i>multiply disabled,"</i> another voice sneered, loud enough to move through the room.


    Rafael¡¯s jaw tightened, a muscle ticking beneath his chiseled cheek. His hands gripped the arms of his wheelchair, knuckles stretching, but he kept rolling, his silence a storm brewing beneath the surface. Eliana nced at him, catching the flicker of rage in his expression before he buried it. She wanted to snap at the gossipers, to tell them they didn¡¯t know half the story, but her throat was too dry, her body too weary. Instead, she focused on the rhythm of her steps, matching Rafael¡¯s pace as they neared the ss doors.


    James appeared like a shadow at the exit, hisnky frame dwarfed by Rafael¡¯smanding aura. "This way, sir," he said, holding the door open, his eyes darting between his boss and Eliana. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, their murmurs trailing the trio into the crisp evening air. Outside, the Bentley waited, its tinted windows gleaming under the morning sun. James opened the door and pressed the controls of the car¡¯s ramp, and Rafael maneuvered his chair with practiced ease, his movements betraying none of the strength he hid. Eliana hesitated, her gaze flicking to the hospital behind her, where faces pressed against the windows, still watching.


    "Get in, Miss Bet," Rafael said, his voice low and clipped, cutting through her thoughts. "Unless you n to walk back to my estate in that state."


    Eliana¡¯s eyes narrowed, a spark of her usual fire returning. "I¡¯m perfectly capable of walking, Mr. Vexley," she retorted, but she slid into the backseat, wincing as her sprained wrist brushed the door. "Though I¡¯d rather not give those vultures more to photograph."


    Rafael¡¯s lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk. "Smart choice." He turned to James, who was settling into the driver¡¯s seat. "Drop Miss Bet at the estate. Then take me to the office."


    "Got it, sir," James replied, his voice neutral, though his eyes lingered on Rafael in the rearview mirror, curiosity burning. <i>What¡¯s gotten into him?</i> he wondered. Rafael Vexley didn¡¯t personally escort employees home from hospitals. He didn¡¯t care. Or did he?


    The drive to Rafael¡¯s sprawling estate was quiet, the hum of the engine filling the space where words might have lived. Eliana stared out the window, the city lights blurring into streaks of gold and red, her mind reying the hospital¡¯s whispers. Rafael¡¯s presence beside her was a weight, his silence louder than any lecture. As the Bentley pulled up to the estate¡¯s iron gates, he turned to her, his voice sharp but softer than before. "Stay in the house, Miss Bet. No running around. You¡¯re no use to me if you copse again."


    Eliana scoffed, her eyes shing. "I¡¯m not a child, Mr. Vexley. And I¡¯m not your prisoner." She pushed the door open, stepping out before he could respond, her sling catching the sunlight. As James drove away, she watched the Bentley taillights fade, Eliana huffed, "Stay in the house, Miss Bet. No running around." she muttered, mimicking his voice with a slight eye-roll. "Like I¡¯m some disobedient puppy." She watched until the car vanished around the bend, then turned to face the mansion.


    Meanwhile, in the car, Rafael sat rigid in his seat, eyes staring out the window but not seeing anything because his mind was elsewhere. The world outside passed in streaks of gray and green.


    "Alexa," he said quietly, his voice low butmanding.


    "Yes, Rafael?" the smooth female voice of the inbuilt AI system replied through the car¡¯s console.


    "Call ra."


    There was a short chime, then a ringing tone. ra picked up on the second ring.


    "Yes, Mr. Vexley?" came her warm, professional voice.


    "Eliana is on her way into the house. Give her the guest room beside mine."


    There was a pause.


    "...The room beside yours, sir?" ra asked slowly.


    "Yes."


    Another silence followed, but ra didn¡¯t argue. "Understood, sir."


    Rafael ended the call without a goodbye.


    From the front seat, James raised an eyebrow but didn¡¯t speak. Not yet. It wasn¡¯t his ce. Still, his fingers flexed slightly around the steering wheel. Something was happening to his boss. And James, who¡¯d been with Rafael for eight years now¡ªthrough hospital visits, business deals, and secret investigations¡ªhad never seen the man act like this.


    He nced at the rearview mirror. Rafael¡¯s jaw was tight, eyes unreadable. <i>Obsessed? </i>No, James didn¡¯t want to use that word.


    But it was close.


    Back at the house, the heavy front door creaked open before Eliana could even lift her hand to knock. ra, dressed in her pristine white uniform with a silver Vexley pin on her chest, opened the door with a soft gasp.


    "Oh, Miss Bet! You¡¯re¡ªoh my goodness..." Her eyes darted to the sling and the faint bruises peeking out from the edge of Eliana¡¯s sleeve. "Are you alright?"


    Eliana gave her a small smile, trying to be brave. "Got into a little ident yesterday. On my way back here."


    ra¡¯s face crumpled with sympathy. "Oh, dear. Come in,e in. Please."


    ra took her box without asking, gently ushering her inside. The interior of the mansion was just as grand as always¡ªsleek marble floors, tall ceilings with cascading ss chandeliers, and the soft scent of eucalyptus and lemon drifting through the air like a whisper.


    "This way, Miss Bet," ra said. "We¡¯ve prepared a room for you." She scooped up Eliana¡¯s box with surprising strength, leading her inside.


    Eliana followed her through a quiet corridor, trailing behind the young woman as her shoes clicked softly against the stone. She tried not to limp too much. Her legs still ached from the fall.


    ra stopped in front of a tall, dark-wooden door and opened it with a gentle push. "Here we are."


    Eliana stepped in¡ªand stopped short.


    The room was massive. Soft cream-colored walls. A king-sized bed covered in velvet and satin sheets. A crystal vase of fresh lilies sat on a mirrored dresser. There were golden sconces on the walls, soft lighting that made everything feel like a dream. Even the curtains were thick, expensive, trailing like gowns down to the floor.


    She turned slowly, stunned. "I¡ªthis... This can¡¯t be for me."


    ra smiled, a little amused. "It is. Mr. Vexley gave the order himself."


    Eliana blinked. "He... what? Why would he¡ª? I mean, I¡¯m just¡ª"


    "A caregiver," ra finished, nodding. "Yes, I thought the same thing. But apparently, you¡¯re not just anything to him." She winked.


    Eliana flushed, her face burning, heart fluttering despite her best efforts to keep it steady.


    "Well," ra continued, "you should rest. I¡¯ll bring you something to eat shortly."


    "Thank you," Eliana said, overwhelmed.


    ra gave her a gentle nod and bowed slightly¡ªa habit from working too long with rich people, Eliana guessed¡ªbefore disappearing down the hall.


    Alone now, Eliana looked around once more.


    "This... doesn¡¯t make sense," she whispered to herself.


    Still, her limbs were too tired to question it much. The bed looked like a soft cloud sent from heaven. She kicked off her shoes, climbed in gently, cradling her injured arm, and sank into the cool sheets.


    Sleep took her in seconds.


    Rafael Vexley sat in his office like a ghost, tall and still, surrounded by walls of ss and chrome. The city skyline stretched beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, blurred by hisck of focus.


    He should¡¯ve been working. He had five back-to-back meetings lined up. The third quarter projections for VexTech were waiting. James stood nearby, holding a tablet with financial graphs and projections blinking across the screen.


    "...And with the new software update, we¡¯re expecting a 12%¡ªsir? Are you listening?"


    Rafael didn¡¯t respond. He was lost.


    James paused, lips pressing into a thin line.


    "I said," he repeated carefully, "we¡¯re expecting a 12% increase in user retention based on¡ª"


    "James," Rafael interrupted abruptly, not looking at him. "Do you think she¡¯s alright?"


    James blinked. "Sir?"


    "Eliana," Rafael said, as if it were the most natural question in the world. "Do you think she¡¯s okay at the house?"


    James stared at his boss. It wasn¡¯t the question itself that shocked him¡ªit was the rawness in Rafael¡¯s voice. The concern. It didn¡¯t fit.


    Before he could answer, the office door opened.


    And in came Mr Vexley Sr. Rafael¡¯s father.


    "Rafael," the older man said, strolling in like he owned the ce. Which, once upon a time, he had.


    "I don¡¯t remember inviting you in," Rafael muttered.


    "We were talking this morning¡ªabout Caleb getting a part of thepany. I thought we could finalize that now."


    "I am are not giving Caleb anything," Rafael snapped, turning sharply.


    Vexley Sr. lifted his brows. "You¡¯re overreacting."


    "I¡¯m not," Rafael growled. "You think I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re doing? You want him to have ess to mypanies so you can run everything through him¡ªno."


    "Don¡¯t be ridiculous¡ª"


    "His mother tried to kill me," Rafael snarled. "She and your golden boy."


    James tensed.


    Vexley Sr¡¯s face darkened. "Watch your mouth, boy."


    "Get out of my office," Rafael barked, rolling his chair forward. "Now."


    There was a long silence. Father and son stared at each other¡ªwell Rafael didn¡¯t stare tantly. He looked at the general direction his father¡¯s voice wasing from


    ¡ªFinally, with a scoff, Vexley Sr. turned and left.


    The moment the door closed behind him, Rafael exhaled slowly, his hands curling into fists.


    "James," he said.


    "Yes, sir."


    "Take me home."


    James nodded, puzzled but silent. <i>Why home? </i>he thought. Rafael never left work early. <i>And why did he keep circling back to Eliana? </i>As they drove, James stole nces at his boss, whose gaze was fixed out the window, his expression unreadable. Somewhere deep in Rafael¡¯s mind, a voice¡ªhis secret friend¡¯s¡ªwhispered, <i>She¡¯s got you, Rafi.</i><i>And you don¡¯t even see it.</i> Rafael¡¯s heart thudded, a strange warmth curling in his chest. He needed to see her, to know she was safe. Somehow, that stubborn girl was bing his obsession¡ªand it terrified him.

 Chapter 34: Free Fall

    <h4>Chapter 34: Free Fall</h4>


    The gravel crunched beneath the tires of the sleek ck Bentley as it pulled into the circr drive,ing to a stop with the elegance of something practiced a thousand times. The Vexley mansion stood before them¡ªmassive and unyielding, its stone facade catching the golden hues of thete afternoon sun like a castle pulled straight from some forgotten century. It didn¡¯t just loom¡ªit dared you to question who lived inside.


    Rafael Vexley sat poised in the back seat, his broad shoulders square and still, a picture of unshakable control. He didn¡¯t move until James, ever dutiful, swung the door open. Then, with effortless precision, Rafael shifted forward, guiding his sleek carbon-fiber wheelchair down the built-in ramp. Despite the chair, there was nothing frail about his movements. If anything, they were smoother than most men on two legs¡ªquiet, deliberate,manding.


    The faint whir of the wheels melded with the background hum of cicadas and the soft rustle of wind through the high hedges. James walked beside him, alert, his hands never far from the chair. He didn¡¯t say much¡ªhe never did¡ªbut even he shifted a little when Rafael paused to study the entrance. Behind his dark sunsses, Rafael¡¯s gaze was unreadable, but it carried weight. The kind that made people nervous for reasons they couldn¡¯t exin.


    At the top of the stairs, the heavy oak doors opened without a knock. ra stood framed in the doorway, dressed in her usual spotless uniform, not a pleat out of ce. The Vexley family pin glinted at her cor like a badge of honor, silver catching the chandelier¡¯s subtle glow as it lit up the foyer behind her.


    Her posture was straight-backed,posed. But the moment she saw Rafael, her face softened. It always did. A warm smile broke across her features, chasing away the sharpness of the mansion¡¯s grandeur.


    "Mr. Vexley," she said with a gracious nod, her voice calm and melodic. "Wee home. I trust your day was... productive?"


    Rafael¡¯s lips twitched into something that hovered on the edge of amusement¡ªhalf a smile, half a warning. "Productive enough, ra."


    There was something different in his tone¡ªstill crisp, still cold at the edges, but with a thread of warmth quietly stitched into it. Like something had shifted. Like someone had softened him.


    He adjusted his sunsses and tilted his head just slightly, eyes locked on her though she couldn¡¯t see them. "Where¡¯s Eliana?"


    At the mention of the name, ra¡¯s smile faltered¡ªnot in displeasure, but in concern. Her hands instinctively smoothed down the front of her apron, a tiny tell he noticed but didn¡¯t mention.


    "She¡¯s in the guest room you asked for, sir," ra replied. "The one beside yours. She¡¯s resting now. Poor thing looked absolutely worn out when she arrived¡ªbarely standing, if I¡¯m honest. And with that sling on her arm..."


    She hesitated, brow pinching as her voice softened. "She didn¡¯t say much. Just thanked me and went straight to bed. I think the trip took a toll."


    Rafael was quiet for a long second. A stillness settled over him, deep and unreadable. Then, without a word, he nodded once.


    ra nced at James, then back at Rafael, as if debating whether to say more. But she knew him well. Whatever questions she had, she tucked them away like she always did.


    "I¡¯ll have a light dinner sent to her room," she offered. "Something warm and easy. And tea. She looked like she neededfort more than food."


    Rafael¡¯s jaw locked tight, the sharp line of tension etched beneath his chiseled cheekbone twitching ever so slightly. It was subtle¡ªbut unmistakable. The kind of tell only someone who¡¯d spent years learning to appear unshaken would still have.


    "Good," he said, voice low and rough like gravel under pressure. "That¡¯s... good." The words didn¡¯t carry relief, not really. More like control¡ªlike a man trying to convince himself of something. Or bury something that didn¡¯t want to stay buried.


    Beside him, James stood motionless, his face carved in stone¡ªstoic and unreadable as always. But Rafael turned to him anyway, not with gratitude, not with warmth¡ªjust withmand.


    "James," he said evenly, "you¡¯re dismissed. For now."


    James¡¯s brow lifted just slightly. A flicker of curiosity passed between them, quiet and restrained¡ªbut then, just as quickly, it was gone. He gave a sharp, respectful nod. "Of course, sir."


    Without another word, James pivoted and strode down the corridor, the steady thud of his boots fading into the mansion¡¯s silence. He didn¡¯t need to be told twice. Whatever this moment was, it belonged to Rafael alone.


    Now alone, Rafael sat still for a heartbeat, hands resting on the wheels of his chair. Then he exhaled slowly through his nose and pushed forward, the quiet hum of his movement filling the vast marble corridor like a whisper of intent.


    He didn¡¯t need to think about where he was going.


    Every turn, every door, every subtle shift in temperature in the hallway was branded into his memory. The long hall curved like a spine toward the north wing¡ªtoward the guest room he¡¯d personally selected. The one directly beside his own.


    The one where Eliana was.


    He stopped in front of the door¡ªa tall, imposing thing of dark polished wood with intricate carvings that caught the low light. His heart, always so damned controlled, gave a quiet, unwanted thud against his ribs. It annoyed him. But it also... intrigued him.


    He raised a fist and knocked.


    Once.


    Twice.


    Nothing.


    The silence pressed in around him, more noticeable now. Too noticeable.


    His brow furrowed. She hadn¡¯t stirred. No shuffling. No reply. No muttered e in" through the door.


    A flicker of unease slid into his chest, unwee and unfamiliar. He wasn¡¯t used to concern sneaking up on him, let alone for someone who had only just stepped into his world. And yet, here it was¡ªwing quietly at hisposure.


    Rafael reached for the handle, his fingers brushing the cool brass. The metal felt colder than usual. Maybe it was just him.


    He turned it.


    Softly.


    Thetch gave with a gentle click, and the door creaked open¡ªslow and smooth, like the house itself was holding its breath.


    He lingered in the doorway, taking in the room.


    Muted sunlight filtered in through sheer curtains, bathing everything in gold. A small teacup sat untouched on the side table, steam long faded. One of the armchairs near the window had a nket draped over it like someone had wrapped themselves in it briefly, then tossed it aside.


    But Rafael saw only one thing.


    Eliana.


    Shey curled beneath soft linen sheets, her form small, almost delicate, as if the bed itself had been holding her gently all this time. Her long, curly ck hair spilled across the pillow like a cascade of midnight ink, framing the smooth angles of her face. Her skin glowed in the filtered light, warm and alive. Her eyes¡ªusually sharp, defiant¡ªwere hidden now, peacefully closed. Lips slightly parted, she breathed in a rhythm that slowed the world itself.


    Even the awkward sling draped across her chest couldn¡¯t diminish the picture she made. If anything, it made her seem even more human. Breakable. Real.


    Rafael rolled closer, wheels silent against the thick carpet. He stopped just beside the bed, drawn to her in a way that made no logical sense, yet felt entirely inevitable. His breath caught. For someone who¡¯d learned to steel himself against emotion, this¡ªthis¡ªfelt like free fall.


    His eyes traced her every detail¡ªthe gentle rise and fall of her chest, the faint flush in her cheeks, the way hershes cast shadows like tiny whispers on her skin. There was strength in her, yes. He¡¯d seen it. But there was softness, too. A quiet kind of grace that rattled something deep inside him. A man like Rafael Vexley didn¡¯t feel easily, didn¡¯t care without consequence.


    And yet, here she was.


    For almost half an hour, he didn¡¯t move.


    He simply watched her, the way a soldier watches a sunrise after too many nights at war¡ªtentative, grateful, disarmed. Everything outside of that room¡ªthe empire, the board meetings, the bitter power ys, even Caleb¡ªdisappeared into static.


    There was only Eliana.


    And the unfamiliar warmth bleeding into his chest like a wound he didn¡¯t know how to tend.


    He muttered under his breath, barely audible. "Get a grip, Rafi."


    The words sounded foreign, like they belonged to someone else. Someone younger. Softer.


    With a rough breath, he rolled back. His fingers hovered over the door handle onest time. Then he turned, slipping silently out of the room and shutting the door behind him with care.


    The scent of lemon zest and roasted herbs weed him into the dining room, where ra waited as if she¡¯d timed his return to the second. She stood beside the table, a tray of food arranged with her signature precision: seared salmon with a lemon-herb ze, crisp roasted asparagus, and a perfectly chilled ss of white wine. The table was set for one¡ªelegant, untouched, waiting.


    "You must be starving, sir," ra said gently, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Can¡¯t have you running yourself into the ground."


    Rafael gave a weary half-smile as he rolled to the table. "You¡¯re too good to me, ra."


    She smirked, brushing a loose strand of back-streaked hair behind her ear. "Someone has to keep you alive, Mr. Vexley."


    Before Rafael could lift his fork, the door burst open.


    Not gently.


    Not politely.


    With ir.


    Caleb Vexley swaggered into the room like a storm with a stylist. His designer sneakers squeaked against the marble floor, and his expensive jacket hung off one shoulder like he¡¯d just walked off a runway shoot. His golden blond hair was tousled in a way that had taken a stylist an hour to perfect, but the glint in his eyes was anything but pretty.


    "Rafael," he drawled, dragging the name out with venom-coated boredom, "why do you always have to be so difficult?"


    Rafael didn¡¯t flinch. He didn¡¯t even blink. Just set his fork down slowly, with the precision of a man who had mastered the art of patience¡ªand violence.


    "Excuse me?" he said, voice like ice.


    Caleb leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, expression smug. "You heard me. You act like this empire was handcrafted for you alone. Grandfather didn¡¯t build this empire just for you, Rafael."


    Rafael¡¯s eyes narrowed behind his sses. He took a beat¡ªthen another. And then: "Caleb," he said coolly, "get out of my wing. Now. Or I swear to you, I will have you physically removed from this house¡ªpermanently."


    Caleb¡¯s smile faltered, just for a moment.


    But then it returned¡ªtighter, meaner. "You think this ends with you sitting in that chair ying king of the castle? You¡¯re just the ceholder. One way or another, I will get what¡¯s mine. Grandfather¡¯s legacy isn¡¯t your personal inheritance."


    Rafael leaned forward slowly, his voice dropping to a growl. "As a matter of fact it is. Try me, Caleb. Try your mother¡¯s games. Try thewyers. Try whatever cowardly backdoor you¡¯re slithering through. But I promise you¡ªyou won¡¯t like what you find on the other side."


    For one electric second, the room crackled with silent rage.


    Caleb¡¯s jaw clenched, his fists balled at his sides¡ªbut he said nothing more. He turned, stormed out, and mmed the door behind him.


    The silence left in his wake was deafening.


    Rafael stared down at his te, untouched. The scent of lemon and salmon, once appetizing, now soured in his throat. He pushed it away with a sharp clink of porcin on wood.


    "ra," he said tly, not looking up, "I¡¯m done here."


    She didn¡¯t ask questions. She never did. But the worry in her eyes was in.


    "Shall I clear it, sir?"


    He gave a quiet nod and turned toward the corridor.


    Back in his private quarters, the polished surface of calm shattered.


    The room was stripped of decoration, all clean lines and cool shadows. Dark wood paneling, a sleek desk, a worn leather chair by the window¡ªfunctional, intentional. But even the silence here offered no peace.


    He gripped the arms of his wheelchair¡ªand stood.


    Strong. Steady. Not broken. Never broken.


    With a sharp breath, he yanked the dark sses from his face and hurled them across the room. They struck the wall with a violent crash, exploding into glittering shards. ss scattered across the floor like fractured stars.


    He didn¡¯t stop to watch them fall.


    He paced.


    Every breath jagged. Every step thunder beneath the quiet.


    Memories crashed through him¡ªuninvited, unwanted. Faces. Voices. Warnings. Promises broken.


    He clenched his fists.


    Not here. Not now. Not again.


    <i>To be continued...</i>

 Chapter 35: The Taste of Betrayal

    <h4>Chapter 35: The Taste of Betrayal</h4>


    <strong>FLASHBACK </strong>


    In the vast, echoing silence of the Vexley estate¡¯s grandest bedroom, nine-year-old Rafael twisted beneath the tangled, sweat-soaked sheets. The room, with all its antique splendor and velvet drapery, felt less like home and more like a forgotten stage¡ªtoo big, too cold, too quiet.


    His dreams had been sharp and brutal: the screech of tires, the metallic crunch of impact, his mother¡¯s voice rising¡ªthen snapping¡ªinto silence. He jolted awake, breath hitching, chest heaving. But the world he woke to didn¡¯t feel right.


    It wasn¡¯t just night.


    It was void.


    A thick, sightless ckness that wrapped around him like tar, swallowing every corner of light. No shapes. No shadows. Just a suffocating absence. One month since the ident, and still¡ªno color, no dawn, no escape.


    "Mommy?" His voice wavered, a broken whisper in the vast dark. It barely rose above the stillness. "Mommy, where are you?"


    Nothing answered. Not even the creak of furniture.


    "Daddy?" he tried again, louder this time. "Daddy, I¡¯m scared!"


    Still, silence. Cruel and heavy, pressing against his ribs. It sat on his chest like a stone, pulling him deeper into the mattress.


    With a trembling breath, Rafael curled into himself. Tiny fingers clenched the sheets. His knees tucked up. His throat tightened. And then¡ªhe cried.


    It wasn¡¯t the quiet sobs of a child holding back. These were open, raw, helpless sobs that filled the hollow corners of the room. His voice cracked with every call that went unanswered. Tears soaked into his pillow, hot and constant. His cries echoed off the carved ceilings and grand oil paintings that couldn¡¯t care less. The darkness didn¡¯t flinch.


    Minutes blurred into hours. His tiny frame shook until he had no strength left to cry.


    Then¡ª


    In silence, a creak sound filled the room. The soft groan of old hinges filtered into his ears.


    "Rafael?"


    Footsteps came next. Fast, familiar. The faint scent of tobo and worn wool drifted in likefort on air. A warm presence sank into the bed beside him. Strong arms wrapped around his small body.


    "Oh, my sweet boy... what¡¯s wrong?"


    It was his Grandfather. His voice was rough¡ªhoarse from sleep, butyered with tenderness that made Rafael sob harder. He buried his face into the man¡¯s chest, clutching fistfuls of his cardigan like they were thest solid thing in the world.


    "I can¡¯t see," Rafael whispered, voice muffled, trembling. "It¡¯s so dark. Mommy didn¡¯te... Daddy didn¡¯te..."


    "Why didn¡¯t theye?"


    The old man went still. For a second, just one heartbeat-long pause, everything in him tensed. Then he breathed in, slow and heavy, and pulled Rafael tighter.


    "Oh, my boy," he murmured, running a hand gently through the child¡¯s curls. "I¡¯m here now. I¡¯ve got you."


    His voice shook. He tried to make it sound strong, to sound sure, but something deeper slipped through¡ªsomething cracked and aching.


    Rafael didn¡¯t catch it. Couldn¡¯t. He was too small, too broken by the ckness to hear the sorrow hiding in his grandfather¡¯s breath.


    But the old man¡¯s eyes shimmered, ssy under the weight of what he couldn¡¯t say.


    And as he held the boy tighter, rocking him gently in the dark, he whispered a promise he wished could be enough.


    "You¡¯re not alone, Rafael. Not while I¡¯m still breathing."


    But even that vow sat heavy in the air¡ªbecause sometimes, even the strongest love couldn¡¯t chase away a darkness like this.


    Not when it came from within.


    Morning came, pouring sunlight through the towering windows of the Vexley estate like liquid gold¡ªbut it brought no warmth. Not to the cold marble floors, not to the cavernous halls, and certainly not to the boy sitting motionless on the edge of his bed.


    Rafael¡¯s small fingers traced the grooves of the carved bedpost, memorized from years of habit. Though his eyes could no longer show him the world, his mind drew a map of the room: the soft, thick rug beneath his bare feet... the rustle of the heavy drapes when a breeze slipped in through the cracks... the scent of polished wood andvender from the maid¡¯s morning routine.


    But something else intruded on the silence.


    Raised voices.


    Sharp. Angry. Cracking through the stillness like thunder splitting a cloudless sky.


    "You left her, Charles!" That was Grandfather¡ªhis voice volcanic with rage, every syble scorching. "You left your wife for that woman, and now she¡¯s gone¡ªgone because of your cowardice!"


    Rafael stiffened. The words sliced through him, sudden and terrifying. He slid off the bed, feet sinking into the rug, and crept toward the hallway, the way a shadow might move¡ªsilent, uncertain.


    The study door was cracked open. He pressed his back against the cold wall, his breath barely daring to exist.


    "Don¡¯t you dare lecture me, Father," came the cutting voice of his father¡ªCharles Vexley. Calm. Cold. Ice against fire. "Eleanor¡¯s death was an ident. I didn¡¯t cause it."


    There was a pause, then a bitterugh¡ªdry and dangerous.


    "An ident?" Grandfather¡¯s voice dripped with disgust. "You broke her long before the crash. You were parading around with Mirabel while Eleanor¡ªyour wife¡ªwas wasting away from heartbreak. And now, you¡¯re doing the same to your son? He¡¯s blind, Charles! Blind and alone, and you¡¯ve left him to drown in the dark!"


    Rafael flinched. The words struck like fists.


    Blind.


    Alone.


    Abandoned.


    He clutched his chest, his breathing shallow. A sound almost escaped him, but he covered his mouth with trembling fingers.


    Dead?


    Mommy was... dead?


    The word shattered something inside him. A cold pain exploded in his chest.


    No. That couldn¡¯t be. She had toe back. She promised.


    "I¡¯m giving him a new mother," his father said¡ªtoo casually, like it was a solution you could gift-wrap. "Mirabel will¡ª"


    "Mirabel?" Grandfather exploded. "That leech? That vulture? That snake in rags? She wouldn¡¯t even spit on that boy if he were on fire¡ªunless you paid her to!"


    "I¡¯m done exining myself to you."


    "You¡¯re not fit to raise a son!"


    The voices faded, tangled in fury and mmed doors, but Rafael didn¡¯t wait to hear the rest. He stumbled away, barely noticing the turn of the hall, the soft brush of curtains against his arms.


    The world spun sideways beneath his feet. The ground no longer felt steady.


    Dead.


    Mommy was dead.


    Daddy didn¡¯t want him.


    He reached his room, copsed onto the floor beside the bed, and curled into himself like the night before¡ªbut this time it wasn¡¯t just fear that gripped him.


    It was grief.


    Heavy. Consuming.


    And the darkness wasn¡¯t just in his eyes anymore.


    It was in everything.


    It was everywhere.


    <strong>*******</strong>


    Three months after that devastating argument, the Vexley estate hosted a wedding.


    Not a joyful one. Not one filled withughter or light.


    Charles Vexley married Mirabel beneath a canopy of crystal chandeliers and polished smiles, while Rafael stood off to the side¡ªsmall, silent, blind. He didn¡¯t cry. He didn¡¯t speak. He simply listened to the apuse and the vows that meant nothing to him, while the ghost of his mother drifted further from memory.


    Time slipped by. Days bled into months, months into years¡ªand every one of them darker than thest.


    Grandfather was the only light that pierced the void. The only one who stayed. He read to Rafael in his gruff, calming voice. Taught him how to navigate without sight¡ªby sound, by touch, by instinct. He taught him how to survive.


    But even Grandfather couldn¡¯t stop time. His body was failing, stretched thin by business, age, and the burden of protecting a child no one else wanted.


    Nannies rotated in and out like clockwork. Their hands were careful but cold, their voices always too loud or too fake. Rafael learned early how to perform¡ªhow to smile, how to say "thank you" without meaning it. He learned how to tuck his pain behind his teeth and swallow the ache like medicine.


    But every night, when the lights went out, the darkness pressed against him like it wanted to consume what little was left.


    At eleven, Mirabel¡¯s voice became a constant venom in the house. She slithered into every room with her cloying perfume and sharp words wrapped in sweetness.


    "He¡¯s an embarrassment, Charles," Rafael heard her say one evening.


    He was hidden behind the slightly open dining room door, holding his breath as her words floated like poison smoke.


    "A blind boy stumbling around like a lost dog? What will people think? He¡¯s not our future¡ªhe¡¯s a liability. He needs to go. Somewhere far. Somewhere he won¡¯t ruin everything."


    Silence followed. Then his father¡¯s voice finally came¡ªt and emotionless.


    "You¡¯re right, my love. A boarding school. Somewhere... specialized."


    Rafael didn¡¯t move. Didn¡¯t cry. But his heart copsed in on itself like ash.


    Weekster, he was gone.


    The school smelled of sweat, old books, and cruelty. Rafael¡¯s cane was stolen on his second day. Boys shoved him in the halls, whispered "Blind freak" behind his back¡ªsometimes to his face. He said nothing. He learned to walk bruised and silent, swallowing the humiliation like ss.


    But then, like a phantom wrapped in twilight, Grandfather began to visit.


    Never announced. Never caught.


    Just a warm hand on Rafael¡¯s shoulder at dusk, and the rumble of his voice: "You¡¯re stronger than they know, my boy. And I¡¯ll always protect you. Always."


    At thirteen, Rafael returned home. Grandfather had fought tooth and nail to bring him back, ignoring Mirabel¡¯s venomous protests and Charles¡¯s indifference.


    But the Vexley estate was no longer a home¡ªit was a battlefield dressed in silk and chandeliers.


    One night, when the house was still and shadows stretched long across the floor, young Rafael curled behind an oversized armchair in the living room. He hadn¡¯t meant to eavesdrop¡ªhe¡¯d only wandered in looking for his nanny, barefoot and sleepy-eyed. But what he heard rooted him to the spot.


    His father¡¯s voice drifted through the half-open study door, low and secretive. Rafael didn¡¯t need eyes to know that tone¡ªit always meant something was being hidden.


    "The properties will go to Mirabel, Caleb, and Celina," Charles Vexley said, his voice clipped and confident. "They¡¯re the future of this family."


    That was it. No hesitation. No pause. No Rafael.


    He wasn¡¯t mentioned. Not once.


    The words mmed into Rafael like a punch. He curled tighter behind the chair, his tiny fingers digging into the carpet, tears sliding down his cheeks, unseen by the world¡ªbut felt like fire against his skin. The darkness felt cruel and suffocating. Cold arms of silence wrapped around him, and he feltpletely and truly invisible.


    Hourster, his grandfather found him in bed, face buried in a pillow soaked with tears. The old man sat beside him, his voice firm yet filled with worry.


    "What is it, Rafael? What¡¯s wrong?"


    "They don¡¯t want me," Rafael whispered, voice cracking. "I heard him, Grandpa. Dad¡¯s giving everything to Mirabel and her children. I don¡¯t matter. I¡¯m not... I¡¯m not one of them."


    There was a long pause. Then a deep inhale. The weight of Grandfather¡¯s rage didn¡¯te out in shouts, but in the way his jaw tightened and his eyes burned. Yet when he reached out, his touch was all warmth.


    "Listen to me," he said, his voice suddenly fierce and trembling with emotion. "You are everything. You are my grandson. My legacy. My blood. And I swear to you¡ªI will protect you with everything I have."


    And he did.


    Not long after, Grandfather rewrote his will¡ªtore the old one apart and made Rafael the sole heir to the Vexley fortune. The announcement sent shockwaves through the family like an earthquake splitting the foundations of a ss house.


    Overnight, Mirabel¡¯s sharine smiles were pasted on like cheap makeup. She began offering Rafael sweets wrapped in shiny foil andpliments that tasted like vinegar. His father started making surprise visits to his room, his voice suddenly full of fatherly affection that Rafael had never heard before.


    "We¡¯re a family now, son," Charles said one night, cing a hand on Rafael¡¯s shoulder.


    But Rafael knew better. His father¡¯s warmth wasn¡¯t real¡ªit was the heat of a me hiding the burn.


    Then came the tea. That made Rafael understand the extent of their hate for him.


    That night, a soft knock came through Rafael bedroom door. Mirabel¡¯s voice purring into the room. " I made you tea. Just some chamomile, sweetheart. It¡¯ll help you sleep."


    Rafael had taken one sip just to be polite. Just one sip.


    Barely five minutester, his throat burned. His chest seized. He copsed, gasping for air, the shadows twisting around him even in his pitch-ck sightlessness. The darkness didn¡¯t swallow him this time¡ªit shoved him into a deeper abyss.


    He woke up in the hospital two dayster, barely alive.


    Grandfather sat by his bed, stone-faced, hands trembling with fury.


    "Don¡¯t ever eat or drink anything she gives you again, do you hear me Rafael?" he said, voice like steel beneath ice. "Unfortunately I¡¯ve got no prove but Mirabel wants you dead, Rafael. Because now... you¡¯re the heir."


    That was the night Rafael learned the taste of betrayal. It was bitter. Poisonous. He learned to listen not just with ears, but with instinct. To feel the tension in a voice, the change in the air when someone entered a room. To read the world without sight. To survive.


    By the time he turned twenty, Grandfather was gone¡ªand Rafael inherited everything.


    The wealth. The empire. The legacy. And a mountain of enemies.


    Mirabel¡¯s fury was volcanic. Her voice rose like sirens as she screamed at Charles, her carefully painted mask cracking.


    "You let this happen! He took everything from us!"


    Charles stood silent. Beaten. Small.


    Rafael, no longer the child hiding behind chairs, stood tall, unflinching. He had been shaped by pain, trained by silence, and sharpened by betrayal. Grandfather had taught him what power looked like¡ªand how to wield it.


    Now, the memory slipped away like smoke in the wind.


    Rafael blinked, pulling himself back into the now¡ªinto the cold calm of his private quarters. His ssesy shattered on the floor. Silence reigned. No voices. No footsteps. Just the low hum of tension, always present.


    He rose to his feet, slow but sure. His once-blind eyes, now steel-grey and sharp as cut ss, scanned the room with steady focus.


    He wasn¡¯t blind anymore. And he definitely wasn¡¯t helpless.


    But the sting of betrayal?


    That never faded.

 Chapter 36: Only Mine

    <h4>Chapter 36: Only Mine</h4>


    The city below burned with light¡ªskyscrapers lit like constetions, traffic crawling like veins of molten gold. But from where Jason Asher sat, high above it all in his penthouse, it felt like watching a party he hadn¡¯t been invited to. His apartment¡ªa sprawling monument to wealth¡ªwas all sharp lines and cold beauty: marble floors polished to perfection, ck leather couches barely touched, and a bar lined with rare liquors older than his trust fund. The kind of ce people posted on social media with captions like "Living the dream." But tonight? It felt more like a very expensive prison cell.


    Jason slumped into the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, the other clenched around his phone like it might suddenly start ringing if he squeezed hard enough. The screen glowed with a cruel kind of stillness¡ªEliana¡¯s name lit up in the recent calls list, again and again, unanswered. His jaw tightened. Each missed call felt like her voice saying "Don¡¯t bother." And maybe she was right.


    He hovered his thumb over her contact, just for a second. He could call again. Say something real this time. But then what? She¡¯d let it ring, or worse¡ªsend it straight to voicemail like before. So instead, he dropped the phone onto the ss coffee table. It bounced off a stack of unopened mail¡ªbills he¡¯d ignored, party invites he didn¡¯t care about¡ªand came to a stop beside a half-drained ss of bourbon. The amber liquid shimmered in the city¡¯s glow, reflecting back the same color as his eyes. Hazel, like hers used to light up when she smiled at him. Back when she thought he was worth something.


    He leaned forward, elbows on knees, dragging both hands through his tousled blond hair. It was getting longer than usual, a little unkempt¡ªEliana used to ruffle it with augh and call him a "spoiled surfer boy." He used to like that. Now, the silence of the room pressed in around him, too loud, too sharp.


    Truth was, he didn¡¯t even know where she lived anymore. When she left¡ªpacked out of his house with that sickly father of hers and a sad little truck filled with everything they owned¡ªhe hadn¡¯t asked where she was going. Hadn¡¯t cared. Not then. To him, she was just anotherplication. A mess he didn¡¯t need. Her dad had been in and out of hospitals, she was always exhausted, and she kept asking for things he didn¡¯t know how to give¡ªtime, help, honesty. Vulnerability.


    Back then, he had his hands full with parties, deals, headlines and Sarai. Who had room for a girl dragging around broken pieces of a life he didn¡¯t want to fix?


    But now? Now, it wed at him. That not-knowing. It festered like a splinter he couldn¡¯t reach, couldn¡¯t ignore. Where was she sleeping? Was her dad okay? Did she even think of him anymore¡ªor had she finally figured out he wasn¡¯t the hero she¡¯d once believed he could be?


    Jason let his head fall back against the couch, eyes staring nkly at the ceiling. The city pulsed below like a heartbeat, steady and uncaring. He had everything people chased after¡ªmoney, power, ast name that got doors opened¡ªbut none of it meant a damn thing without her.


    And maybe the worst part? He knew it was his fault. She hadn¡¯t slipped through his fingers. He¡¯d let her go. No¡ª<i>pushed her.</i>


    "God, I¡¯m an idiot," he muttered, his voice low and bitter, swallowed by the hum of the city below. He stood, pacing the length of the penthouse, his sneakers silent on the polished hardwood. His mind churned with regret.


    Every step echoed with what-ifs. The times she tried to talk to him¡ªreally talk¡ªand he brushed her off, too wrapped up in his own mess to notice she was quietly falling apart. She¡¯d asked for time. For help. For space to just be heard. And he hadn¡¯t listened. Hadn¡¯t even tried.


    Now she was gone. Not in the dramatic sense¡ªno goodbye note, no mmed door¡ªbut vanished, like smoke curling out of reach. One minute she was there, and the next... nothing. A ghost in the shape of a girl he should¡¯ve fought harder to hold onto.


    He stopped at the massive window, staring at the man staring back. Clean-cut, ridiculously good-looking, dressed like he belonged on a magazine cover. But his reflection was all surface¡ªmoney, style, charm¡ªand none of it mattered. Not when his chest felt like a hollow drumbeat and his head was full of static.


    A private investigator. The idea sparked like a live wire. Drastic? Sure. Desperate? Absolutely. But he was past caring how it looked. What the hell else could he do?


    Sarai definitely wouldn¡¯t help. She¡¯dugh¡ªGod, she¡¯dugh so hard. Her eyes always saw too much, and her tongue knew exactly where to cut deepest. She never liked Eliana. Never pretended to. The hate had always sat in her voice like poison. Sarai would rather swallow ss than lift a finger to find her.


    Across town, in their highearn hostel, Sarai Monroe was unraveling in her own way. Her private living room was a curated masterpiece¡ªwhite fur throws, gold-ented furniture, and a chandelier that dripped crystals like frozen tears. But the elegance was a facade, barely containing the storm brewing inside her. She sat cross-legged on a plush rug, her phone bnced on her knee, her glossy ck hair pulled into a high bun so tight it pulled at her scalp. She scrolled through Instagram with a manic intensity, her green eyes narrowed, searching for any trace of Eliana. Jason had been ignoring her for days, his attention glued to his phone, chasing a woman who didn¡¯t even deserve him. It was infuriating. Sarai had won¡ªshe¡¯d driven Eliana out of their lives, out of Jason¡¯s bed, out of everything. And yet, Eliana¡¯s shadow still lingered, a ghost that refused to be exorcised.


    "Stupid girl," Sarai hissed, her voice a low venom as she scrolled. "You don¡¯t get to ruin everything after I already got rid of you." Her thumb froze as a video popped up on her feed, the thumbnail showing a familiar figure in a wheelchair, nked by a woman with wild curls and a sling on her arm. The caption screamed in bold: BLIND <strong>BILLIONAIRE RAFAEL VEXLEY SPOTTED WITH MYSTERY WOMAN¡ªKENNETH HOLLOWAY¡¯S ADOPTED GRANDDAUGHTER? </strong> Sarai¡¯s lips curled into a cruel smile as she tapped y.


    The video was grainy, clearly shot by some nosy bystander in a hospital corridor. Rafael Vexley¡¯s wheelchair glided through the frame, his chiseled face a mask of cold indifference. Beside him walked Eliana, her navy sweater frayed at the cuffs, her jeans clinging to her slender frame. She looked small, fragile, but there was a quiet defiance in the way she held her head, her curls bouncing with every step. The camera lingered on them, catching the way Rafael¡¯s chair stayed close to her, protective, like a knight guarding a queen. Whispers from the crowd filtered through the audio¡ª<i>"Is that really him?" "Who¡¯s that woman? Why are they together?"</i>¡ªand Sarai¡¯sugh cut through the sound like a de.


    "Oh, Eliana," she sneered, leaning back against the couch, her manicured nails tapping the phone screen. "You¡¯re pathetic. Leeching off the blind, crippled billionaire now? You and your sob story always find a way totch onto someone with a wallet." She shook her head, her bun glinting under the chandelier¡¯s light. "You and Rafael Vexley deserve each other¡ªtwo broken things pretending they¡¯re worth something."


    Herughter died as a wicked idea sparked in her mind, her eyes glinting with malice. She opened her messages, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she attached the video and sent it to Jason. The message was a carefully crafted dagger: <i>"Look at your precious Eliana, Jason. She doesn¡¯t deserve you. She¡¯ll leech onto anyone with money¡ªfirst her "grandfather" Keh Holloway, then you, and now this blind, crippled tyrant. Forget her. She¡¯s not worth your time." </i>


    She hit send, a triumphant smirk curling her lips as she imagined Jason¡¯s reaction. Let him see Eliana for the gold-digger Sarai had always known she was. Let him hate her. Let hime back to Sarai, where he belonged.


    Back in his penthouse, Jason¡¯s phone buzzed, the sound jarring in the quiet. He snatched it up, his heart lurching at the notification from Sarai. He opened the video, his jaw tightening as he watched Rafael Vexley¡ª<i>Rafael freaking Vexley</i>¡ªglide alongside Eliana like he owned her. The message beneath it burned into his brain, each word a fresh wound. <i>She doesn¡¯t deserve you... leech... blind, crippled tyrant...</i>


    Jason¡¯s grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles whitened, his breathing in sharp, angry bursts. He stood, pacing again, his reflection a blur in the ss. "No one takes what¡¯s mine," he growled to the empty room, his voice shaking with a mix of rage and desperation. "Not some blind, crippled no matter how much he has. No one!"


    He stopped, staring at the video frozen on his screen¡ªEliana¡¯s face, tired but defiant, next to Rafael¡¯s cold,manding presence. His chest ached with a possessiveness he hadn¡¯t felt in months. Eliana was his¡ªhis to love, his to hurt, his to keep. And he¡¯d be damned if he let Rafael Vexley, of all people, take her away.


    "I¡¯ming for you, Eliana," he swore, his voice low and dangerous, the words swallowed by the empty penthouse. "And I¡¯m not letting him have you. Never!"

 Chapter 37: Lost

    <h4>Chapter 37: Lost</h4>


    Night cloaked Rafael Vexley¡¯s estate like a shroud¡ªstill, suffocating, and heavy with unspoken tension. The mansion, grand and cold, seemed to hold its breath with him. In the dim expanse of his bedroom, Rafael sat hunched on the edge of his king-sized bed, shirt wrinkled, cor open, sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms like he¡¯d given up on pretending tonight.


    A half-empty bottle of whiskey dangled from his fingers, the ss glinting gold in the sliver of moonlight that dared creep through the drapes. The silence in the room was pierced only by the asional soft clink of melting ice, and the slow exhale of a man on the brink. His steel-grey eyes¡ªcold, calcting, haunted¡ªstared into the void, but what he was seeing wasn¡¯t the room. It was the past. They kept reying infront of him.


    The crash. The betrayal. The blood-soaked silence that followed. His pulse ticked in his ears louder than the ticking clock on the wall.


    He took another sip¡ªburning, but familiar. The ache in his chest red with every memory: the lies, the vultures circling with his own family¡¯s name. The storm inside him roared louder than any thunderp outside. His dark, tousled hair hung over his eyes, his jaw tight with the effort of holding himself together. Tonight, he didn¡¯t bother to pretend. Not for the walls. Not for himself.


    And in the room next door¡ªquieter, softer, but just as weighed down¡ªEliana Bet stirred.


    She blinked against the warm amber glow of the bedsidemp, caught somewhere between a bad dream and a worse reality. The silk sheets twisted around her legs like vines, clinging to the sweat of restless sleep. Her right arm, suspended in a ck sling, throbbed¡ªa dull echo of the chaos that had ripped through her just yesterday.


    She groaned softly, shifting her weight as the scent ofvender from her pillow did little to calm her frayed nerves. Her curly hair tumbled over her shoulders in a halo of sleep-tangled waves. Her sweater¡ªher father¡¯s, actually¡ªhung loose on her frame, smelling faintly of him and dust. The kind offort you don¡¯t talk about.


    The digital clock blinked: <strong>9:47 p.m.</strong>


    Toote. Too hungry. Too tired to care. Her stomach grumbled¡ªa sharp reminder she hadn¡¯t eaten since morning. Or was it yesterday? Time had stopped making sense since she met Rafael Vexley.


    She sighed and rubbed her eyes with her good hand, her fingers brushing away more than just sleep. Guilt. Grief. All of it.


    Then¡ªa knock came at the door.


    Soft. Hesitant.


    But in the stillness, it cracked like thunder.


    "Miss Eliana?" ra, the housekeeper, poked her head through the door, her round face etched with concern. "Dinner¡¯s been ready for a while. Shall I bring you a te?"


    Eliana offered a weak smile, her full pink lips curving just enough to hide the weariness in her heart. "Thank you, ra, but I¡¯m... I¡¯m too tired to get up. I¡¯ll figure something outter."


    ra hesitated, her grey brows knitting together. "You sure, dear? You need to eat something. You¡¯re looking thinner than a shadow."


    "I¡¯ll be fine," Eliana said softly, her voice carrying that quiet strength she¡¯d honed over months of hardship. "Really. I just need a little more rest."


    ra gave a hesitant nod, then quietly disappeared into the shadows of the hallway, leaving Eliana alone with the silence. Alone with the ache.


    But silence didn¡¯t feed you.


    And neither did grief.


    Her stomach twisted again¡ªan urgent, growling reminder that no matter how broken she felt, her body still needed something to keep it standing. She let out a low groan, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. The marble floor kissed her bare feet with a chill that ran straight to her spine.


    She tugged her oversized sweater tighter around her frame and gave the cor a quick tug to hide the bruises only she could feel. The faded jeans she wore were frayed at the knees¡ªmore hers than anything else in this ce. Every movement was slow, careful, like she was trying not to disturb the ghosts trailing her.


    The mansion stretched before her like a living, breathing thing¡ªelegant, massive, and cold as hell.


    Every hallway was dimly lit, shadows pooling in the corners like secrets. She moved through them like a whisper, her fingers grazing the marble walls to keep from drifting. The sling made everything awkward. Her bnce felt off. She was off.


    This house wasn¡¯t made for the wounded. It was made to impress. And right now, Eliana just needed a sandwich.


    After a few wrong turns¡ªone leading to a locked study, another to a staircase that seemed to descend into nowhere¡ªshe finally stumbled upon the kitchen. Or rather, the high-techir of some culinary god. Stainless steel everything, sleek marble counters, mood lighting glowing under the cabs like a soft electric halo. She paused, momentarily overwhelmed. This kitchen didn¡¯t smell like home. It smelled like... money.


    Still, her stomach made the call.


    The industrial fridge loomed in front of her like a vault. She opened it and let out a breath of disbelief. Roasted chicken. Mashed potatoes. Saut¨¦ed green beans. Cold, but beautiful. Someone had been eating like royalty while she was trying to make sense of broken bones and worse memories.


    She chuckled under her breath as her stomach roared in triumph. "I had a fridge just like you, once upon a time." she murmured to it, "Nothingsts forever I guess."


    One-handed, she awkwardly stacked the containers on the counter. The microwave looked like it required a PhD in engineering, and her left hand fumbled across the buttons. Each jab made her wince¡ªthe sling on her right arm tugging at sore muscles and bruised pride. Still, she got it working. The soft whirr of the microwave was the first warmth she felt all day.


    As the scent of roasted garlic and herbs filled the air, for a second, just a second, it almost felt normal.


    She sat at the kitchen ind, te bnced on herp, fork clutched in her non-dominant hand like it was an unfamiliar weapon. The first attempt to cut into the chicken failed miserably¡ªher fork slipping, elbow knocking into the counter, pain ring up her arm. She clenched her jaw.


    "Come on, Eliana," she muttered, trying again. "It¡¯s just food. You¡¯ve handled worse."


    But this? This was worse.


    Worse because it wasn¡¯t a monster she could outrun. It was exhaustion. Pure and quiet and soul-deep. It was the way her body trembled not from fear, but from sheer effort. From the weight of having to try so hard for something so small.


    She finally got a piece of chicken into her mouth, chewed, swallowed¡ªand then quit.


    The next bite slid off her fork and flopped pathetically onto her te. Her eyes burned.


    Not because of the food. But because she was tired. So damn tired.


    She pushed the te away. The metal fork clinked louder than it should¡¯ve, echoing through the kitchen like a reminder of failure. Her honey-brown eyes shimmered, tears threatening but refusing to fall. No. Not for this. Not tonight.


    With a quiet, frustrated sigh, she stood¡ªslow, deliberate¡ªher breath shaky. The hunger was still there. So was the pain. But neither of them could outweigh the one thing she wanted most: to feel whole again.


    And tonight, she just didn¡¯t have it in her.


    So she turned. And walked back into the house that wasn¡¯t hers. Back toward the room that felt less like safety and more like a prison.


    But the mansion¡¯s maze betrayed her. Exhausted and disoriented, Eliana wandered down a hallway she thought was familiar, her bare feet padding softly against the floor. She pushed open a heavy oak door, expecting the soft glow of her bedroommp. Instead, she stepped into darkness, the air thick with the scent of whiskey and something sharper¡ªanger, perhaps, or pain. She didn¡¯t notice the figure on the bed until it was toote.


    Rafael¡¯s hand stilled, the whiskey ss hovering near his lips as he watched the door creak open. His sharp eyes, hidden behind the pretense of blindness, tracked Eliana¡¯s silhouette as she moved with that quiet grace of hers, oblivious to his presence. She crossed the room, her steps hesitant but purposeful, and climbed onto the bed without a second thought, slipping under the covers as if it were her own. Rafael¡¯s jaw tightened, his grip on the ss tightening until his knuckles whitened. What the hell was she doing?


    Eliana, lost in her own exhaustion, didn¡¯t register the warmth of another body until her bare legs brushed against his under the nket. The contact was electric, a jolt that sent her heart racing. She screamed, a sharp, startled sound that echoed in therge room, and scrambled to leap out of the bed.


    "Don¡¯t. Move. A. Muscle." Rafael¡¯s voice cut through the darkness, low andmanding, each wordced with a dangerous edge that made the air feel colder. "Or you¡¯ll regret it."


    Eliana froze, her body rigid, her good hand clutching the edge of the nket. Her eyes, wide and frantic, darted around the room, finallynding on Rafael¡¯s shadowed form. The moonlight caught the sharp angles of his face, his steel-grey eyes glinting with something unreadable¡ªanger, suspicion, or maybe something softer, buried deep. Her breath hitched, her voice trembling as she spoke. "R-Rafael? Oh my God, I¡¯m so sorry¡ªI thought this was my room!"


    His lips curled into a sardonic smirk, though his eyes never met her. "Your room? You think you can just waltz into mine and climb into my bed like it¡¯s nothing?" He set the whiskey ss on the nightstand with deliberate slowness, the clink of ss against wood sounding louder than it should. "Care to exin yourself, Eliana?"


    "I¡ªI didn¡¯t mean to!" she stammered, her cheeks flushing despite the dim light. "I was hungry, and I went to the kitchen, and then I got lost, and I¡¯m so tired, and¡ª" Her words tumbled out, frantic and unpolished, her usualposure unraveling under his intimating presence even though his eyes wasn¡¯t holding hers. "I swear, I didn¡¯t know this was your room!"


    Rafael leaned forward slightly, his broad shoulders drawing a long shadow over her. "You¡¯re telling me you wandered into my bedroom by ident?" His tone was mocking, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, a crack in his cold facade. "You¡¯re either very lost or very bold."


    Eliana¡¯s lips parted, indignation flickering through her fear. "Bold? I¡¯m not bold¡ªI¡¯m lost," she shot back, her voice tight. "This ce is a maze, and I¡¯m barely functioning here."


    She gestured to her sling cradling her arm¡ªthen stopped halfway, realizing he couldn¡¯t even see her. Her anger wavered, reced by something softer. He was probably just startled, thinking a stranger barged into his space. He was only protecting himself.


    Her voice dropped. "I didn¡¯t mean to intrude, Mr. Vexley. I¡¯ll go."


    "Stay," he said sharply, the word almost a growl. His hand shot out, not touching her but hovering close enough to make her pulse race. "You¡¯re already here. Might as well tell me why you¡¯re sneaking around my house in the middle of the night."

 Chapter 38: Loosened Lips.

    <h4>Chapter 38: Loosened Lips.</h4>


    Eliana¡¯s heart thundered like a war drum in her chest, every beat echoing in the silent room. She sat stiff on the edge of Rafael¡¯s bed, her brown eyes zing with defiance and sheer embarrassment. Moonlight poured through the tall windows in silver streaks, turning shadows into jagged shapes that danced like ghosts between them.


    Her curls¡ªwild and untamed¡ªfell over her face like a shield, but even they couldn¡¯t block out the intensity of his stare. Those steel-grey eyes, hauntingly sharp despite his blindness, felt like they saw everything¡ªthe panic in her breath, the way her fingers clenched the hem of her sweater, the tremble she tried so hard to hide.


    "I wasn¡¯t sneaking!" she snapped, her voice cracking through the stillness. "Like I said before, I was hungry, okay? I couldn¡¯t even open the damn fridge properly because of this stupid sling." She shook her arm slightly, the fabric rustling. "I just wanted something to eat. I didn¡¯t know I¡¯d... end up here. I thought this was my room."


    Thest word hit the floor like a dropped secret. Her voice faltered, her gaze flicking away, cheeks burning as heat rushed to her face.


    Rafael didn¡¯t move. He sat like stone, broad shoulders drawn against the headboard, the cut-ss tumbler still in his hand catching a shard of moonlight. His expression was unreadable¡ªcool, detached, the way he always was. But behind the hard lines of his face, something flickered. Not anger. Not amusement. Something quieter. A crack in the armor.


    The whiskey had dulled the edge of whatever fury he might¡¯ve held, but mistrust still hung around him like smoke. And yet... there was something about Eliana¡ªher raw, unfiltered honesty, the way her vulnerability spilled out unguarded¡ªthat tugged at the frayed threads of his guarded heart.


    "You¡¯re a mess, Eliana," he said atst, his voice quieter now, almost tender, though it carried the faintest bite of mockery. "But I¡¯ll let it slide. Just this once. You sound... truthful. And that¡¯s saying something."


    Eliana blinked, her breath catching in her throat. Her lips parted, and for a moment, she wasn¡¯t sure she¡¯d heard him right. "Is that... apliment?" she asked, her voice tinged with cautious hope, her eyes searching his face for any hint of warmth.


    Rafael¡¯s lips twitched, the barest hint of a smirk breaking through his cold facade. "Don¡¯t get used to it," he snapped, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him, curling upward just enough to reveal a flicker of amusement. "Come with me."


    Her brows furrowed, confusion knitting her features. "Come with you? Where?"


    He didn¡¯t answer. Instead, Rafael shifted, his movements deliberate and slow, as if every motion was a calcted performance. He dragged his body across the bed, his strong arms pulling him toward the wheelchair positioned beside it. Eliana watched, her heart twisting with a mix of pity and awe, as he reached out, his fingers brushing the air with practiced precision, feeling for the chair. His face remained impassive, his eyes unfocused, ying the part of a blind man with chilling uracy. He gripped the armrests and hoisted himself into the chair with a grunt, his movements fluid despite the pretense of paralysis.


    Eliana instinctively stepped forward, her good hand reaching out. "Do you need¡ª"


    "Don¡¯t bother," Rafael cut her off, his voice sharp as a de. "You¡¯re as disabled as I am right now with that useless hand of yours." His words stung, but there was a glint of dark humor in his tone, a challenge that dared her to argue.


    She froze, her hand hovering mid-air before dropping back to her side. Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing, her pride warring with the exhaustion that weighed her down. Rafael didn¡¯t wait for her response. With a flick of his wrist, he maneuvered the wheelchair out of the bedroom, the soft hum of the motor echoing in the cavernous hallway. "Come on," he called over his shoulder, his voice clipped but expectant.


    Eliana hesitated, her bare feet rooted to the floor. But curiosity¡ªand something else, something she couldn¡¯t name¡ªpropelled her forward. She followed him, her steps tentative, her sling cradled against her chest. The mansion¡¯s hallways stretched endlessly before her, abyrinth of polished marble and shadowed corners. Rafael navigated it with an ease that left her stunned, his wheelchair gliding smoothly around corners and past ornate statues as if he could see every inch of the space. How did a blind, paralyzed man move with such confidence in a house this vast? The question gnawed at her, but she kept it locked behind her lips.


    They reached the kitchen, a sprawling expanse of gleaming countertops and stainless steel that gleamed under the soft glow of pendant lights. Eliana¡¯s eyes widened as Rafael rolled to a stop beside the ind, his movements as precise as a dancer¡¯s. "Are you...hungry?" she asked, her voiceced with confusion, her brow furrowing as she tried to make sense of him.


    Rafael didn¡¯t look at her¡ªcouldn¡¯t, she reminded herself. "Sit," he said simply, nodding toward one of the high-backed counter chairs. His tone was neither kind nor cruel, just matter-of-fact, as if her presence was a given.


    Eliana obeyed, sliding onto the chair with a wince as her sling caught on the edge. She watched, her breath catching, as Rafael rolled toward the massive refrigerator. His hands moved with uncanny precision, pulling open the door and retrieving a box of frozen pizza from the freezerpartment. The way he handled it¡ªconfident, unflinching¡ªsent a jolt of disbelief through her. How could a blind man move like that? It was as if the kitchen itself bent to his will, every drawer and door within his reach.


    He rolled to the microwave, popped the pizza inside, and set the timer with the same effortless precision. Eliana¡¯s lips parted, but no words came. She watched in silence, her heart thudding, as the microwave hummed to life. Rafael, unbothered by her stare, reached into a lower cab and pulled out a bottle of red wine, itsbel catching the light. He then retrieved two wine sses from the counter above, his fingers brushing the stems with a familiarity that made her head spin.


    He rolled back to the ind, setting the sses down with a soft clink. "I know this house like it¡¯s my own body," he said nonchntly, as if reading her thoughts. "Muscle memory. You live somewhere long enough, it bes part of you."


    Eliana nodded slowly, her mind racing. If he could do all this, why did he need her? Why was she here, ying caregiver to a man who seemed to need no one? The question burned, but she swallowed it, afraid of what the answer might reveal.


    The microwave beeped, and Rafael retrieved the pizza, the scent of melted cheese and pepperoni filling the air. He slid the tray onto the table in front of her, his movements smooth and deliberate. "Eat," he said, his voice low but not unkind. "You can manage that with one hand."


    Eliana stared at the pizza, then at him, her throat tight. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice just a little whisper. She didn¡¯t know why he was being kind¡ªor if it even was kindness¡ªbut the gesture warmed something inside her, something she hadn¡¯t felt in a long time.


    Rafael poured wine into the sses without spilling a drop, the deep red liquid catching the light like liquid rubies. He slid one toward her, his fingers brushing the stem. "Drink," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.


    "I... I don¡¯t know if I should," Eliana said, her voice hesitant. "It¡¯ste, and¡ª"


    "Drink," he repeated, his voice softer now, butced with something darker, a heaviness that made her pause. His face was shadowed, his jaw tight, and she realized he wasn¡¯t in the mood for defiance.


    She took the ss, her fingers trembling slightly, and sipped. The wine was rich, velvety, with a warmth that spread through her chest. It paired perfectly with the pizza, the vors mingling in a way that made her sigh. She took another sip, then another, and soon Rafael was pouring her a second ss.


    They ate in silence at first¡ªthe kind of silence that wasn¡¯t awkward, just... tentative. Only the soft clink of cutlery and the muted rustle of napkins filled the air. The tension between them hovered like a third presence at the table. But the wine¡ªsmooth, rich, and dangerously good¡ªdid what it always did. It loosened lips. Softened walls.


    Eliana leaned forward, her cheeks flushed with warmth¡ªhalf from the alcohol, half from the rarefort. Her eyes sparkled, the corners crinkled with a slightly crooked smile. "You know," she said, voiceced with a tipsy giggle, "I honestly thought being an asshole was your entire personality."


    Rafael arched a brow, lips curling into a slow, mocking smirk. "And I assumed being a gold digger was yours," he replied smoothly, his tone teasing¡ªbut the edge in it still cut clean.


    For a second, they just stared at each other¡ªdeadpan.


    Thenughter exploded between them, raw and unexpected. It filled the kitchen, cracked the tension, made the cold space feel a little less hollow. Eliana gripped her wine ss like it was anchoring her to the moment, shoulders trembling with genuine amusement.


    "Touch¨¦," she managed through augh, shaking her head. "Okay. Fair. But seriously¡ªRafael, you¡¯re like a walking fortress. Steel walls, no entry. You don¡¯t trust anyone, do you?"


    The smile slipped from his lips like it had never been there. His gaze dropped to the ss in his hand, the dark wine swirling like secrets in a storm.


    "I don¡¯t," he said quietly. t. Final. "I¡¯ve been stabbed in the back too many times to count. Trust isn¡¯t a virtue¡ªit¡¯s a liability. And I stopped affording luxuries a long time ago."


    Eliana¡¯s smile faltered just slightly, softening into something quieter¡ªmore real. Her heart twisted a little at the pain behind Rafael¡¯s words, the kind you don¡¯t just say unless you¡¯ve lived through it.


    "I get it," she said, her voice just a murmur. "My best friends... they betrayed me too. Smiled to my face, then disappeared the second things got hard. Stabbed me in the back and didn¡¯t even flinch." She exhaled slowly, her fingers tracing the rim of her ss. "But even after all that, I still want to believe there are good people out there. People who are worth the risk."


    Rafael let out a short snort, the sound dry but not cruel. "That¡¯s stupid thinking," he muttered, though his eyes didn¡¯t hold the bite his words tried to carry.


    She raised her ss defiantly, a crooked smile tugging at her lips. "Then here¡¯s to stupid thinking."


    He hesitated for a breath. Then, with a quiet huff that might¡¯ve been augh, he lifted his ss and touched it to hers with a soft clink. "To stupid thinking," he echoed, his voice low¡ªalmost warm.


    Theirughter bubbled up again, this time lighter, more genuine. It settled into the air like music, washing over the cold surfaces of the kitchen and warming the space between them. For the first time, it didn¡¯t feel like they were on opposite sides of a war.


    Rafael leaned in slightly, the sharp lines of his face softened by the table lights and wine. "I¡¯ve got a secret," he murmured, voice dipping into a low, conspiratorial whisper. His lips curled into something between a smirk and a dare. "But you can¡¯t tell anyone."


    Eliana¡¯s heart tripped over itself, the sudden shift in tone sending a thrill down her spine. She leaned in instinctively, her curls spilling across her face as her breath brushed the table between them.


    Her eyes locked with his, "What is it?" she whispered, her voice trembling with excitement, her eyes wide with anticipation.

 Chapter 39: Drunken Secrets

    <h4>Chapter 39: Drunken Secrets</h4>


    <strong>Warning: Explicit Content Ahead </strong>


    Rafael Vexley leaned forward, squinting dramatically at the rim of his wine ss like it held the secrets of the universe. His head swayed with the motion, his dark hair falling over one eye. "Pssst," he whispered loudly, his voice soaked in mischief and several too many drinks. "Elianaaaa."


    Eliana blinked at him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide with exaggerated curiosity. "What?" she whispered back, like they were plotting world domination, even though they were the only two people in the kitchen. "Why are we whispering?"


    Rafael leaned in further, nearly toppling off his wheelchair. "I have a seeecret," he slurred, grinning like a boy caught sneaking cookies.


    Eliana¡¯s mouth dropped open. "Nooo," she gasped, clutching her chest as if he hadn¡¯t just said those exact words moments ago. "Tell me now. Immediately. Or I¡¯ll die."


    "I can¡¯t just <i>say</i> it," he said with a drunken shake of his head, like it was a matter of national security. "You have to earn it."


    "Oh, please," she giggled, pushing his shoulder lightly. "I literally peeled your pizza off the floor earlier. I earned it!"


    "You dropped it!"


    "You dropped <i>you</i>," she fired back, and they both exploded intoughter, the kind that made their bellies ache and eyes water.


    But suddenly, in the middle of their giggle fest, Eliana¡¯s face twisted.


    "Uh-oh..." she said, her voice wobbling.


    Rafael squinted at her, still chuckling. "What? What¡¯s that face? Why¡¯re you making the¡ªoh no."


    "I think I¡¯m gonna throw up," Eliana whispered, blinking hard as the room began to spin.


    Rafael flinched like she¡¯d pulled a knife. "Don¡¯t you dare!" he barked, pointing a shaky finger at her. "Not in my kitchen. This is sacred territory!"


    Her eyes widened. "I¡¯m serious," she groaned, clutching her stomach like it had betrayed her. "My insides are¡ªuhh¡ªdoing gymnastics. The wine... the cheese... the mushrooms that looked weird..."


    "Oh, no no no no¡ª" Rafael pushed his ss away and spun his wheelchair toward her, nearly knocking over a stool in the process. "Not here. Not on the Carrara marble. Not on my child."


    Eliana huped, eyes glossy. "Your what?"


    "My kitchen," he said solemnly, cing a hand on the counter like he was swearing an oath. "She¡¯s all I have."


    Eliana let out a helplessugh. "Your priorities are <i>insane</i>."


    "You¡¯re insane!" he said, inching closer. "You¡¯re the one threatening to hurl all over my very expensive appliances!"


    "I can¡¯t move," she whined, flopping sideways like a tired noodle. "My legs forgot how to leg."


    Rafael sighed deeply, muttering, "Of course," and with great drama and minimal grace, maneuvered closer. He reached out, grabbed her by the waist, and dragged her¡ªgiggling and gasping¡ªonto hisp.


    "Rafi!" she squealed.


    "This is a rescue mission," he dered.


    "From what?"


    "Your stomach. And my anxiety." He hit the joystick.


    The wheelchair zoomed forward, jerking slightly, and Eliana screamed¡ªthen immediately burst into giggles, her arms flung around his neck like he was a rollercoaster seatbelt.


    "You drive like a lunatic!" she shrieked.


    "I am a lunatic!" he yelled back, swerving around a corner. "A lunatic who cares deeply about his floors!"


    She wasughing so hard, she could barely breathe. "This is not how I imagined being swept off my feet!"


    "You didn¡¯t specify how! That¡¯s on you!"


    "Yourp is bony!"


    "Your face is bony!"


    "You <i>flirt</i> so weird," she gasped, pressing her forehead against his shoulder as the hallway whirled by.


    "I¡¯m nailing this," he muttered proudly, barely able to keep his head straight. "Heroic, drunk, and in control. Mostly."


    As they sped toward the bedroom, one of the hallway paintings tilted from the force of their turn. Eliana pointed at it with wide eyes and snorted. "You made the art drunk too."


    "Good," Rafael said. "Now it matches the theme."


    With a soft whoosh, the sleek oak door of his bedroom slid open as Rafael tapped the button on his wheelchair, like magic responding to hismand.


    "Ooooh," Eliana said, slurring the word as she blinked at the dim golden lighting. "Fancy."


    "Of course," Rafael said, his chin up like a dignified king. "You think this facees with a basic room?"


    She giggled again¡ªthen immediately pped her hand over her mouth. "Oh no."


    "Bathroom. Now!" Rafael hollered like a soldier in battle.


    The wheelchair rolled them straight to the en-suite bathroom, Rafael muttering curses the whole way. "If you puke on my Italian tile, I¡¯ll never forgive you."


    "It¡¯s Italian?" she asked, voice muffled by her hand.


    "Heated floors. Voice-activated lights. The toilet sings opera."


    "Whaaaaat?" she moaned. "Your toilet sings?"


    "Only when it¡¯s in the mood."


    "Mine just...flushes." Her face scrunched again. "Oh no. It¡¯s happening¡ª"


    Rafael mmed the brakes. "Okay, okay, time to eject! Move it, Eliana!"


    "I can¡¯t," she moaned. "My legs are dead. I¡¯m gonna die here, in yourp, surrounded by technology and betrayal."


    "I will throw you in if I have to!"


    "I dare you."


    "You don¡¯t think I will?"


    "Coward," she whispered.


    With exaggerated groaning, Rafael helped her slide off hisp. Shended on the floor with a dramatic thud andy there for a moment like a fallen soldier.


    "I live here now," she said.


    "No, you vomit in there," he said, pointing toward the glowing bathroom like it was the gates of heaven. "This is your mission. Don¡¯t fail me."


    She crawled¡ªliterally crawled with one hand¡ªtoward the doorway, giggling between groans. "If your toilet sings to me, I¡¯m marrying it."


    "Wait in line," Rafael said, resting his head against the doorframe andughing into his arm.


    Eliana reached the toilet just in time, clutching it like a long-lost lover. From behind her, Rafael called out, "Tell it I say hi."


    A pause.


    "Oh my God," she whispered from inside. "It¡¯s warm."


    "I told you!"


    <i>"That¡¯s so weirdlyforting!"</i>


    They both burst into helplessughter again, echoing off the bathroom walls like they were children at a sleepover.


    After a few seconds, Rafael heard the sound of retching and winced. "Poor thing," he muttered, before suddenly feeling his own stomach lurch. "Oh shit." He stood up from the wheelchair¡ªsomething Eliana would¡¯ve noticed if she wasn¡¯t so drunk¡ªand stumbled into the bathroom after her.


    "Rafi?" Eliana¡¯s voice was muffled as she leaned over the toilet. "What are you doing here?"


    "Same as you," he said, gripping the sink for support before he leaned over it, his own stomach emptying into the basin.


    Theyughed between heaves, their drunkenness making the situation feel absurdly funny. When they were finally done, Rafael wobbled to the cab and pulled out two toothbrushes and a tube of toothpaste. He handed one to Eliana, and they stood side by side, brushing their teeth in silence for a moment before catching each other¡¯s eyes in the mirror and bursting into giggles again.


    Once their mouths were minty fresh, Rafael led Eliana back into the bedroom. She didn¡¯t even notice that Rafael Vexley walked on his two feet to the bed¡ªher head was too fuzzy to process anything beyond the fact that she was exhausted. He sat on the edge of the mattress and patted the space beside him. "Come here," he murmured, his voice soft butced with something that made her pulse quicken.


    Eliana didn¡¯t hesitate. She climbed onto the bed andy down next to him, her body sinking into the soft sheets. Rafael pulled her into his arms, and she nestled against his chest, her breath warm against his skin. For a moment, they justy there, the alcohol buzzing through their veins.


    But then Rafael¡¯s hand began to wander. His fingers traced slow circles on her hip, sending shivers down her spine. Eliana tilted her head up to look at him, her lips parted in surprise. "Rafi..."


    "I told you I had a secret," he whispered, his voice husky. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear. "I¡¯m not blind. And I¡¯m definitely not crippled."


    She blinked, trying to process his words through the fog of alcohol. "Wait... what?"


    Before she could say more, his lips were on hers, silencing any protest. The kiss was deep and hungry, his tongue sliding against hers in a way that made her moan softly into his mouth. His hands slipped under her sweater, exploring every inch of her skin as he pulled her closer.


    Eliana¡¯s mind was spinning, but she didn¡¯t care. All she could think about was how good it felt to have his body pressed against hers, his hands roaming over her like he couldn¡¯t get enough. She tore her lips from his and gasped, "Rafi..."


    He didn¡¯t respond with words. Instead, he moved down her body, kissing a trail along her neck and corbone. His fingers slid beneath the hem of her sweater, tugging it up and over her head in one smooth motion. Her bra came off just as easily, discarded somewhere beside them.


    Then his mouth found her again, this time at her chest. He took her nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue and sucking gently, like he knew exactly what would drive her wild. She gasped and arched into him, her body reacting before her mind could catch up.


    Her fingers tangled in his hair, and all she could do was feel¡ªevery kiss, every breath, every heartbeat crashing into hers like waves that refused to stop.


    "Rafi..." she moaned, her fingers tugging at his hair.


    He looked up at her with a wicked smirk, eyes glinting with heat, before slowly moving lower. His hands trailed down her sides, teasing her skin as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her pants and panties. With one smooth pull, he slid them down her legs, taking his time, like he was unwrapping a very delicate present.


    She waspletely naked beneath him, she felt the air kiss her skin¡ªand his gaze, hot and heavy, drinking her in. His stormy gray eyes roamed over her with dark, unspoken hunger, like she was the only thing he¡¯d ever wanted.


    Then, without a word¡ªwithout even giving her a second to brace herself¡ªhe dipped his head and buried his face between her thighs, hungry, unrelenting, andpletely lost in her.


    Eliana let out a sharp gasp as his tongue swiped through her folds, teasing her clit with expert precision. Her hips jerked involuntarily, but he held her down, his hands gripping her thighs as he continued to lick and devour her wet and dropping pussy. Every lick sent waves of pleasure through her body, making her toes curl and her back arch.


    "Fuck," she whimpered, her voice trembling. "Rafi, please..."


    He didn¡¯t stop. Instead, he slid two fingers inside her, curling them just right as he continued to work her clit with his tongue and fuck her with his fingers. Eliana was lost in the sensations, her moans growing louder and more desperate until she finally came apart, her body shuddering with the force of her orgasm.


    When she finally caught her breath, she looked down at him with heavy-lidded eyes. "Your turn," she whispered.


    Rafael grinned and whispered, "I can¡¯t wait that long, " and then he crawled back up her body, capturing her lips in another searing kiss as he positioned himself between her thighs. She could feel the length of his cock pressing against her entrance, and she wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him closer.


    With one thrust, he was inside her, filling herpletely. Her entrance was so warm and his cock filled her up just right. They both groaned at the sensation, their bodies moving together in perfect rhythm. Rafael¡¯s pace was steady but intense, each thrust hitting that sweet spot inside her that made her see stars.


    "You feel so fucking good," he growled against her neck, his breathing in ragged gasps.


    Eliana couldn¡¯t respond; all she could do was cling to him as pleasure consumed her. Her nails dug into his back, leaving red marks that only spurred him on. Their bodies were slick with sweat, the sounds of their moans and the wet p of skin against skin filling the room.


    It didn¡¯t take long for them both to reach the edge. Rafael¡¯s thrusts became erratic as he felt his release building, and Eliana cried out as another orgasm ripped through her body. He followed momentster, burying himself deep inside her as he came with a loud groan.


    They copsed together in a tangled heap of limbs, their chests heaving as they tried to catch their breath. Rafael pressed a kiss to her forehead, his arms tightening around her.


    "So..." she whispered, still dazed from the alcohol and intensity of it all. "Not blind or crippled, huh?"


    He chuckled lowly, his hand trailing down her side in a way that made her shiver. "Nope."

 Chapter 40: A Harsh Morning

    <h4>Chapter 40: A Harsh Morning</h4>


    Morning sunlight crept through the gap in the curtains, slipping across the room like it was trying not to wake anyone. Itnded on the bed in thin gold lines, highlighting the mess of sheets and limbs tangled at the center of it all.


    The first thing Rafael Vexley felt was the pounding in his skull. A deep, sluggish ache that reminded him he¡¯d had way too much to drink the night before. His second realization hit harder.


    He wasn¡¯t alone.


    He blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting to the light, and that¡¯s when he saw her¡ªEliana. Curled against his chest, warm skin pressed to his. She waspletely naked, her smooth brown skin glowing in the soft light, her wild ck curls syed across the pillow and part of his shoulder like they belonged there. One leg was tossed over his, her arm draped across his stomach. She looked peaceful. Beautiful.


    And then he noticed himself¡ªjust as naked, the sheet barely covering anything. His heart skipped.


    Clothes were everywhere. Her sweater was crumpled by the dresser. Her bra? Hanging from thempshade like a joke they were both in on. Panties on the floor, delicate andcy. His own shirt and pants were in a heap by the door, like they¡¯d been yanked off in a hurry and forgotten.


    But that wasn¡¯t what made his stomach twist.


    It was the wheelchair.


    It wasn¡¯t where it should¡¯ve been¡ªright by the bed, within arm¡¯s reach like always. It was across the room, parked by the open bathroom door.


    He stared at it for a moment, chest tightening. His mind raced.


    Had he...?


    Did he <i>walk</i>st night?


    Had she seen?


    A rush of panic rose in his throat. For months, Rafael had worn the mask. The limp, the wheelchair, the story he never exined. And now, just like that, one night¡ªone drunken night¡ªand he might¡¯ve ruined everything. The secret he¡¯d protected so carefully could¡¯ve slipped out with the rest of his clothes.


    He had to fix this. Fast.


    Holding his breath, he gently slid out from under Eliana¡¯s arm, careful not to wake her. She made a small sound in her sleep, but didn¡¯t stir. He moved quietly, tiptoeing across the cool marble floor, every tap in the silence sounding louder than it should.


    He reached the chair and quietly brought it back, cing it exactly where it always sat¡ªlike some quiet piece of set design for the lie he¡¯d built.


    Then he climbed back into bed, pulled the sheet over himself, and forced his breathing to slow.


    A momentter, Eliana shifted beside him, murmured something he couldn¡¯t quite hear.


    Heid there, still and silent, his heart pounding in his chest.


    He didn¡¯t know if she¡¯d seen.


    He didn¡¯t know if the truth had slipped out.


    But for now, all he could do was wait... and hope the mask hadn¡¯t fallen too far.


    Eliana¡¯s eyes fluttered open to soft morning light¡ªand within seconds, panic punched her right in the chest.


    She gasped, sharp and sudden, like she¡¯d been dunked in cold water. Her eyes flew wide, and she sat up so fast the sheet nearly slipped off her. Her arms flew up to clutch it against her chest, her heart thudding wildly. Her skin was bare. Completely naked. And the body lying beside her? Definitely not hers.


    <i>"Oh my God," </i>she breathed out, her voice rising in rm.<strong><i> "Oh my God!"</i></strong>


    She looked down¡ªthen at the man next to her¡ªthen down again, like the view might somehow change. But it didn¡¯t. Rafael Vexley was lying there, shirtless, the sheet barely covering him, too. Their legs had been tangled together. She couldn¡¯t breathe.


    Her head throbbed with a nasty, wine-soaked ache, the kind that made the room tilt slightly at the edges. But nothing¡ªnot even the headache¡ªwas stronger than the wave of horror crashing over her.


    "What¡ªwhat is this?!" she burst out,pletely unable to hide the panic in her voice.


    Rafael stirred, like her shouting had just pulled him from a dream. He rubbed at his eyeszily, brows furrowed like he was still half-asleep. "Eliana?" His voice was groggy, rough. "Why are you yelling? What¡¯s going on?"


    She stared at him like he¡¯d grown a second head. "We¡¯re naked, Rafael!" she practically shouted, her voice cracking. "I woke up in your bed, with you, and we¡¯re both¡ª" She shook her head, struggling to find the words. "We¡¯re not wearing anything!"


    He pushed himself up on one elbow, his face unreadable. Calm. Too calm.


    "I should be asking you that," he said slowly, almost using. "Eliana, I¡¯m <i>blind</i>. I can¡¯t exactly <i>see</i> what¡¯s going on, can I? I don¡¯t even remember youing into my room. So maybe you can tell me why you¡¯re here?"


    She opened her mouth. Nothing came out. Closed it again. Her brain scrambled to stitch together fragments of the night before¡ªbits of memory that refused to settle.


    "I... I remember going to the kitchen," she mumbled, her voice small now, shaky. "I was hungry. I thought I was heading back to my room, but I must¡¯ve gotten lost on my way back. I thought this was my bedroom."


    She nced around the room and winced. Her bra still dangled from themp. Her pantiesy half-crumpled on the floor. Her sweater was by the dresser. Every detail screamed at her.


    "You brought me back to the kitchen," she continued, almost like she was trying to convince herself. "You made pizza... we talked. You gave me wine." Her voice dropped lower, her stomach turning. "After that, it¡¯s just... fog."


    She covered her face with her hands and let out a low, strangled sound. "No, no, no. This isn¡¯t happening. Not again."


    She didn¡¯t have to say it out loud. Again was enough.


    The memory came back in a flood¡ªone she¡¯d tried hard to push down. That first time. That idental, guilt-drenched night barley a week ago she¡¯d been trying to forget ever since.


    And now this.


    Rafael Vexley. Her boss. The man whose name was on every check for her father¡¯s hospital bills. The man who held her future in his hands.


    And she¡¯d just slept with him <i>again</i>.


    Unthinkable didn¡¯t even cover it.


    Rafael watched her silently, his face softening. But just for a second¡ªbarely a breath¡ªbefore he schooled it back into indifference.


    He straightened his posture, tone turning cool, practiced. "Look, Eliana... it¡¯s not a big deal," he said, shrugging like they hadn¡¯t just woken up naked together. Like it wasn¡¯t exactly the kind of mess you don¡¯te back from. "Things got a little out of hand. That¡¯s all."


    He kept his voice light, almost dismissive, like if he said it casually enough, it wouldn¡¯t matter.


    "I¡¯ll fix it. Whatever you need." He leaned over toward the nightstand, his fingers feeling around like he was searching for something¡ªhis checkbook, probably. "How much do you want?"


    His hand trembled for a split second as he reached, the act of fumbling just a bit too exaggerated. He was ying blind again. Slipping back into the role he wore so well.


    Eliana¡¯s eyes widened, her breath hitching. "What did you just say?" Her voice was low, trembling with a mix of hurt and fury.


    "I said I¡¯ll pay you," Rafael repeated, his voice cool, though a flicker of unease passed through him. "For... whatever happened. Name your price."


    The room seemed to still. Eliana¡¯s face crumpled, her eyes zing with a fire Rafael hadn¡¯t seen before. "You think I¡¯m a prostitute?" she whispered, her voice shaking. Before he could respond, her hand flew out, connecting with his cheek in a sharp, resounding p. The sound echoed in the silent room, and Rafael¡¯s head snapped to the side, his jaw clenching.


    "I¡¯m not some cheap fling you can buy off!" Eliana shouted, tears spilling down her cheeks. "How dare you? How dare you think so little of me?" She scrambled out of bed, clutching the sheet to her chest as she gathered her scattered clothes. Her hands trembled as she yanked on her sweater and jeans, not caring that they were inside out. "You¡¯re an asshole, Rafael Vexley. Aplete asshole."


    "Eliana, wait¡ª" Rafael started, but she was already storming toward the door, her bare feet pping against the floor. The door mmed behind her, the sound reverberating like a gunshot.


    In her own bedroom, Eliana copsed onto therge bed, her sobs wracking her slender frame. The shame burned through her, hotter than the headache pounding at her temples. How had she let this happen again? Rafael¡¯s cold offer echoed in her mind, each word a fresh wound. She wanted to pack her bags, to flee this stupid cage and never look back. But the image of her father, frail and tethered to hospital machines, stopped her cold. Rafael¡¯s payments kept him alive. And his threat¡ªif she left, he¡¯d use her of theft and ruin her life¡ªloomed like a guillotine over her neck. She had no choice. The tears came harder, her body shaking as she curled into herself, the weight of her reality crushing her.


    Back in his room, Rafael sat motionless, the sting of Eliana¡¯s p lingering on his cheek. He touched the spot gingerly, his jaw tight. He couldn¡¯t remember how they¡¯d ended up in bed, couldn¡¯t recall the moment his carefully constructed facade might have slipped. But the look on Eliana¡¯s face¡ªheartbroken, betrayed¡ªcut deeper than he¡¯d expected. For a man who prided himself on control, this was a mess he hadn¡¯t anticipated.


    He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his movements fluid and sure, a stark contrast to the crippled persona he projected. He dressed quickly, pulling on a crisp white shirt and tailored cks, his fingers deftlybing through his dark, wavy hair. Settling back into the wheelchair, he steeled himself. Pride be damned¡ªhe needed to apologize. Eliana deserved that much, even if it meant swallowing the bitter taste of vulnerability.


    He was about to wheel toward the door when the inte on his nightstand buzzed, sharp and insistent. Frowning, he pressed the button. "Yes?"


    "Mr. Vexley," came the clipped voice of one of his security personnel. "There¡¯s a man here to see you. Says his name is Jason Asher."


    Rafael¡¯s jaw clenched instantly, his fingers tightening around the armrests of his wheelchair. Jason Asher¡ªEliana¡¯s fianc¨¦, the golden boy with a silver spoon and a wandering eye. Rafael¡¯s blood simmered, his mind racing. What the hell was Jason Asher doing here?

 Chapter 41: Sizing The Competition

    <h4>Chapter 41: Sizing The Competition</h4>


    Rafael Vexley¡¯s bedroom seemed to shrink around him, shadows clinging to the corners like they knew something he didn¡¯t. The inte¡¯s sharp buzz still pulsed in his head, chased by the security guard¡¯s brisk voice: "<i>Mr. Vexley, there¡¯s a man here to see you. Says his name is Jason Asher."</i>


    Rafael¡¯s jaw locked, his fingers tightening on the armrests of his wheelchair until his knuckles went pale. Jason Asher. Even hearing the name was like striking a match in a room full of gasoline fumes. Heat red under his skin¡ªnot the kind born of fear, but of a fury that had no business feeling so personal. Jason, Eliana¡¯s golden boy... the worthless fianc¨¦ with a perfect smile, polished enough to hide whatever rotted beneath it.


    His pulse was a drumbeat in his ears, but when he spoke, his voice was calm¡ªtoo calm. "Let him in," he said, each word cooled to ice.


    He let go of the inte button slowly, his mind already circling the same thought: <i>the audacity of this man, walking into his home like he owned it. </i>What was he here for? To nt a g in Eliana? To prove something? The memory of earlier came uninvited¡ªEliana¡¯s tear-streaked face, their shared heat tangled in his sheets. He shoved it into the shadows of his mind. Anger was easier. Anger had direction. His anger redirected toward the intruder.


    He pressed the inte again. "Tony, escort our guest to my study. I¡¯ll meet him there."


    "Yes, sir," came Tony¡¯s prompt reply, the butler¡¯s tone as unppable as ever.


    Rafael spun his wheelchair with smooth precision, the wheels whispering over polished marble as he left the bedroom. The hallway stretched out ahead¡ªtall oil paintings in gilded frames, crystal chandeliers spilling rainbows onto the walls. It was a house built to impress, to intimidate... and right now, it felt more like the opening move in a war.


    The study was his chosen battlefield. Dark mahogany walls. The scent of leather and old paper. Shelves crammed with books he could quote from memory. And in the center, the massive desk¡ªa statement in itself. He slid into position behind it, adjusting himself into the part he knew how to y: the blind, crippled billionaire.


    His hands rested lightly on the desk. His gaze, unfocused, drifted just beyond the room¡¯s center, as if he couldn¡¯t quite find the source of the sound he was waiting for. All the while, the storm inside him kept gathering.


    Minutes ticked by, each one stoking the fire in his chest. Then came the knock¡ªfirm, precise. Tony¡¯s voice followed. "Mr. Vexley, your guest is here."


    "Show him in," Rafael said, his tone smooth butced with an edge only he could feel.


    The door swung open, and Jason Asher strode in with a confidence that made Rafael¡¯s skin crawl. The man¡¯s golden hair caught the light, his hazel eyes glinting with a smugness that screamed entitlement. His tailored zer and crisp white shirt were impable, his gym-toned frame practically screaming look at me. Rafael¡¯s jaw ticked, his fingers twitching with the urge to wipe that smirk off Jason¡¯s face. This was the man Eliana had chosen to marry? This peacock who cared more about his reflection than her heart? Was she blind?


    Jason¡¯s gaze swept over Rafael, lingering on the wheelchair, the clouded eyes, the carefully curated fragility. His smirk widened, a flicker of triumph in his expression. Rafael could practically hear his thoughts: <i>This is mypetition? A broken man? </i>Jason had seen the videos, no doubt¡ªthe grainy hospital footage of Eliana at Rafael¡¯s side, the captions swirling on social media: <strong><i>Are they dating? She must be Rafael Vexley¡¯s girlfriend. </i></strong>He¡¯de to size up the rumors, to see if a blind, paralyzed billionaire could possibly rival his charm. The arrogance radiating off him was suffocating.


    Rafael tilted his head, his voice cool and measured. "Mr. Asher, how can I help you?"


    Jason didn¡¯t waste a second. His voice was syrupy with fake warmth, each word dripping with the kind of charm that came gift-wrapped in arrogance.


    "I heard my <i>fianc¨¦e</i>, Eliana, was in an ident," he said, as if the phrase my fianc¨¦e wasn¡¯t the verbal equivalent of tossing a grenade into the room. "And that you were kind enough to help her out. I can¡¯t thank you enough. I came to pick her up."


    He eased himself against the edge of Rafael¡¯s desk, all casual confidence¡ªone hand in his pocket, the other drumming a slow, cocky rhythm. He stood like he owned the ce, like he¡¯d been invited.


    The word <i>fianc¨¦e</i>nded with a dull, heavy thud in Rafael¡¯s mind. A small, almost imperceptible lift of his brow was the only betrayal of surprise.


    <i>Fianc¨¦e? </i>The thought burned through him. Eliana hadn¡¯t called Jason when her father¡¯s hospital bills threatened to bury her ¡ªwhen her own hospital bills came calling ¡ªeven though the man was rich enough to cover them without blinking. Rafael had assumed¡ªno, known¡ªthat whatever they¡¯d once had was dead, strangled by Jason¡¯s wandering eye and Eliana¡¯s quiet refusal to chase him. Yet here Jason was, brandishing that title like a weapon. The confidence in his voice wasn¡¯t confidence at all¡ªit was a provocation.


    Rafael kept his face still, his fury locked behind the calm surface of his eyes. He would not give Jason the satisfaction of a reaction.


    "You heard about the ident, you say?" His tone was smooth, almost bored, his fingers tapping an unhurried beat on the desk¡¯s polished wood. "Interesting. Let¡¯s see if Eliana¡¯s avable."


    He reached for the inte. No rush. No flinch. Every movement deliberate enough to feel like a challenge.


    "ra, please ask Eliana toe to my study," he said. "Someone¡¯s here for her."


    Jason¡¯s jaw tightened¡ªjust a twitch, but enough for Rafael to catch it. He hadn¡¯t expected this. That little story about Eliana being here had been bait, meant to draw Rafael into giving him Eliana¡¯s current location. Jason never for once thought Eliana would be living with Rafael Vexley. Now, the bait had caught him instead.


    The truth crashed in fast and hard¡ªEliana really was here. In Rafael¡¯s house.


    Jason¡¯s thoughts scattered like leaves in a sudden wind, and Sarai¡¯s poison-soft voice slithered through his memory: <i>She¡¯s leeching off him, Jason. She¡¯s not who you think.</i>


    His eyes narrowed just enough to show the doubt gnawing at the edges of his pride. Was she really ying him? Was Eliana just another beautiful opportunist with her ws in a billionaire¡¯s wallet? Or was there something here Jason didn¡¯t understand¡ªand maybe didn¡¯t want to?


    Back in her room, Elianay curled on the bed, her face buried in the pillow as sobs wracked her slender frame. The memory of Rafael¡¯s cold words¡ª"Name your price"¡ªcut deeper than any knife. The shame burned, mingling with the ache of her father¡¯s frail form in her mind. She was trapped, chained to this gilded cage by Rafael¡¯s money and threats. The knock at her door startled her, and she swiped at her tear-streaked cheeks, forcing herself to stand. Her reflection in the mirror was a mess¡ªred-rimmed eyes, tangled curls, her sweater still inside out from her frantic escape.


    She opened the door to find ra, her kind face etched with concern. "Eliana, are you alright?" ra¡¯s voice was soft, her eyes searching.


    "I¡¯m fine," Eliana lied, her voice hoarse. She straightened, smoothing her sweater as if it could hide her pain.


    ra hesitated, her voice careful, almost too careful. "Someone¡¯s here to see you. They¡¯re in Mr. Vexley¡¯s study."


    Eliana¡¯s heart gave a sharp, uneven beat. Rafael? The name alone sent a ripple of unease through her chest. She wasn¡¯t ready to face him¡ªnot after this morning, not with the weight of hisst words still pressing on her.


    But curiosity was a stubborn thing. Who could possibly be asking for her? No one knew she was here. Not even her father, tethered to machines in a sterile hospital room miles away.


    She gave ra a silent nod, the kind that felt heavier than it should, and followed her through the mansion¡¯s endless halls. Her bare feet whispered against the marble floor, the cold seeping into her skin until it felt like the chill had crept into her bones.


    The hallway to Rafael¡¯s study seemed to stretch unnaturally long, like the house itself wanted to slow her down, to make her think twice. Every step drew her closer to a door she didn¡¯t want to open. Memories pressed in¡ªsharp, uninvited.


    The night she¡¯d knelt in that room, begging Rafael to save her father.


    The night he¡¯d agreed¡ªat a cost she could never repay.


    The night she¡¯d let go of her dignity, feeling like she¡¯d left a part of herself behind in the shadows between those walls.


    And now she was walking back into them.


    ra knocked on the study door, and Rafael¡¯s voice, smooth and controlled, called, "Come in."


    Eliana stepped inside, her breath catching as her eyesnded on Jason Asher. His hazel eyes widened, mirroring her shock. He stood there, golden and polished, like a prince from a fairy tale she no longer believed in. But his presence here, in Rafael¡¯s domain, felt like a vition.


    "Jason?" Eliana¡¯s voice was sharp, disbelieving. "What are you doing here?"


    Jason¡¯s shock morphed into a scowl, his arms crossing. "I should be asking you that, Eliana. What the hell are you doing in <i>his</i> house?" His gaze flicked to Rafael, who sat silently, his expression unreadable.


    Eliana¡¯s cheeks flushed, her heart pounding as she realized Rafael was listening to every word. She couldn¡¯t do this here, not in front of him. "Mr Vexley, can you give us a moment?" she asked, her voice trembling but firm. Without waiting for his reply, she grabbed Jason¡¯s hand, her grip tight, and pulled him toward the door. The contact sent a jolt through her, a mix of anger and betrayal, but she didn¡¯t stop. She dragged him out, the door clicking shut behind them.


    Rafael sat frozen, the echo of Eliana¡¯s hand in Jason¡¯s searing into his mind. The sight of her touching him, choosing him, shocked him to his core. His fingers gripped the armrests, his facade of indifference cracking. For the first time in years, Rafael Vexley felt something he couldn¡¯t control¡ªjealousy.

 Chapter 42: Confrontation

    <h4>Chapter 42: Confrontation</h4>


    Eliana¡¯s pulse thundered in her ears, a frantic rhythm that made it hard to breathe. There he was¡ªJason Asher¡ªstanding in Rafael Vexley¡¯svish study like he belonged there, though his once-effortless smile now twitched under the weight of her shock.


    How?


    How could he be here, in this house?


    Her chest tightened, heat pooling beneath her skin, and her thoughts locked onto the only possible betrayal¡ªSarai. That snake of a best friend¡ªno, former best friend¡ªwho could turn lies into silk and make poison sound like poetry. Of course Sarai would feed Jason her location, dressing the truth in just enough deception to make it sting.


    Her good hand curled into a fist at her side, the other still trapped in the sling. Even without speaking, she knew Rafael was studying her; his grey eyes had that way of cutting through people until there was nowhere left to hide.


    "Mr. Vexley," she said, keeping her voice steady, "can you give us a moment?" She didn¡¯t wait for his reply.


    In two steps she was in front of Jason, her fingers locking around his wrist in a grip that burned with anger and urgency. "Come with me," she snapped, the words sharp and low, like a de meant to wound quietly. She yanked him toward the door, her sling knocking against her side with every step¡ªa dull throb she ignored. Jason stumbled once, caught off guard, but didn¡¯t resist as she dragged him out of the study, their footsteps ringing against the marble hall.


    They didn¡¯t stop until a side door gave way to the open air, spilling them into a vast, manicured garden.


    The garden was a lush escape from the mansion¡¯s cold grandeur, alive with the scent of blooming roses and the soft rustle of leaves in thete morning breeze. Sunlight filtered through the canopy of ancient oaks and onto the winding stone paths. Birds chirped obliviously overhead, their melodies a stark contrast to the storm brewing between Eliana and Jason. She released his wrist as if it burned her, spinning to face him with her arms crossed protectively over her chest, the sling making the gesture lopsided and vulnerable.


    "Why are you here, Jason?" Eliana demanded, her voice stern,ced with the raw edge of betrayal. Her honey-brown eyes zed with a wildfire that refused to be tamed. The breeze tugged at her long curls, sending them whipping across her shoulders like a g dering war.


    "How did you even find me? Was it Sarai?" Her words snapped like breaking ss. "Did she send you here to gloat?"


    Jason¡¯s hazel eyes narrowed, a storm brewing behind them. His shoulders stiffened, the easy charm he used to wear now looking like a cheap suit that didn¡¯t quite fit. Shoving his hands deep into the pockets of those too-perfect, tailored cks, he looked every bit the polished man she once thought she knew. But now, that golden-boy sheen felt hollow¡ªlike gold paint over rust.


    "Why am I here?" he shot back, his voice climbing. "Eliana, what the hell are you doing living in Rafael Vexley¡¯s house?" His words ricocheted off the tall trees, heavy and using. "Do you even realize what people are saying about you?" He took a step closer, his tone breaking into something raw, almost pleading. "That you¡¯re... leeching off him? I came because I care, damn it!"


    Eliana¡¯sugh broke free before she could stop it¡ªlow, sharp, and edged with bitterness. It sliced through the morning air, too brittle to be anything but disbelief. She tilted her head back, the sound carrying a thread of hysteria, like she couldn¡¯t decide whether tough or scream.


    "Care?" she repeated, her voice trembling with scorn. "You care now? Don¡¯t insult me, Jason. This is my life, and it¡¯s none of your damn business. You lost the right to ask me anything the moment you trampled on my heart and left me to pick up the pieces."


    Jason¡¯s expression turned to stone, his jaw locking tight enough to crack. He closed the distance between them with a few deliberate steps, crowding into her space the way he used to¡ªlike he owned it, like she still belonged there. In his eyes, she was still that girl from their past: the one who would twist herself into knots for a scrap of his time, the one who thought his smile was worth any wound.


    "I have every right," he said, his voice dropping into that practiced, honeyed tone that had once made her forget her own name. Now it just felt like a de wrapped in silk. "You¡¯re my fianc¨¦e, Eliana. Or did you forget? We were engaged. That doesn¡¯t just vanish because of a few mistakes."


    The absurdity of his words hit her like a p, and Eliana¡¯sughter faded into a disbelieving scoff. Her expressive eyes widened, tears of frustration pricking at the corners, but she blinked them away, refusing to let him see her break. "Fianc¨¦e? Jason, are you delusional? When I needed you most¡ªwhen my father was dying, when I was drowning in debt¡ªyou abandoned me at your parents¡¯ house like some unwanted stray. Your mother humiliated me every single day, treating me like dirt under her designer heels. And when I finally had enough, when I walked out, she snatched that cheap engagement ring off my finger and told me never toe back. You weren¡¯t there to stop her. You didn¡¯t chase after me."


    Jason shifted ufortably, his blonde hair catching the sunlight as he averted his gaze to the vibrant rose bushes nearby, their petals a mocking reminder of the romance he¡¯d shattered. But Eliana wasn¡¯t done; the words poured out like a dam breaking, each oneced with the pain she¡¯d buried for too long.


    "And you? You never cared where I went, if I was okay, if I was even alive. Not one call, Jason. Not a single message. And the worst part¡ªthe absolute worst¡ªwas walking in on you and Sarai, tangled in silk sheets,ughing about me behind my back. Making fun of the ¡¯poor little Eliana¡¯ who thought she could hold onto you. You betrayed me in every way possible."


    Jason¡¯s shoulders sagged slightly, a flicker of guilt crossing his handsome features, but it was fleeting, overshadowed by his narcissistic need to justify himself. He reached for her, slow and uncertain, his fingers hovering just shy of her arm. But the second his hand came close, Eliana recoiled like his touch might burn.


    "Eliana, I¡¯m sorry. Okay? I am," he began, the words tumbling out in a rush, like he could patch the cracks between them with enough sybles. "Sarai... she¡ª" He swallowed hard, eyes darting away for a beat. "She seduced me. Came onto me when I was... vulnerable."


    He stepped closer, his voice dipping into a coaxing tone she¡¯d heard a hundred times before. "I¡¯m a man, Eli. We¡¯re... prone to that kind of thing. Cheating happens." He winced, as if the bluntness might sting less if he softened it with the next words. "But it doesn¡¯t mean I don¡¯t love you. You¡¯re the one I want toe home to." His gaze searched hers, pleading. "Forgive me. We can start over."


    Eliana¡¯s face twisted in disgust, her full pink lips curling into a sneer as she stared at him, seeing him truly for the first time¡ªnot as her childhood crush, but as the spoiled, entitled boy he¡¯d always been. "You¡¯re such an entitled asshole, Jason. Do you even hear yourself? ¡¯Prone to cheating¡¯? That¡¯s your excuse? Love isn¡¯t something you dip in and out of like it¡¯s a game. You don¡¯t get to hurt me like that and then demand forgiveness because you¡¯re ¡¯a man.¡¯"


    Jason recoiled as if she¡¯d struck him, his eyes widening in genuine shock. This wasn¡¯t the Eliana he knew¡ªthe quiet, resilient girl who¡¯d suffer in silence. Her words hung in the air, sharp and unyielding, and for a moment, the garden seemed to hold its breath. "You... you can¡¯t talk to me like that," he stammered, his voice cracking with disbelief. "Eliana, do you not love me anymore? After everything we¡¯ve been through?"


    She met his gaze head-on, her heart aching but resolute, the emotional wounds she¡¯d carried finally scarring over into strength. "No, Jason. I don¡¯t love you anymore. I regret every second I wasted on you¡ªevery tear, everypromise. All you care about is yourself, your precious reputation. Look at me! I¡¯m standing here with my arm in a sling, and you didn¡¯t even ask if I¡¯m okay. Not once. You just stormed in here demanding answers like you own me."


    Jason¡¯s face paled, the usation hitting home, but his pride wouldn¡¯t let him back down. "I was about to ask about your hand! God, Eliana, you¡¯re just hurt right now¡ªthat¡¯s why you¡¯re yelling. You don¡¯t mean any of this. We can fix it." He paused, his voice softening maniptively. "I don¡¯t want to leave. Not like this."


    "Leave, Jason," Eliana said firmly, her voice trembling with the effort to hold back tears. "I don¡¯t want to see you again. Ever. Go back to Sarai, or whoever else strokes your ego. Just go."


    But Jason refused, his entitlement ring into desperation. He stepped forward, grabbing her good hand before she could pull away. "Eliana, wait¡ª"


    Before she could process, before she could react or shove him off, he yanked her into his arms, his lips crashing down on hers in a forceful kiss. It was possessive, demanding, tasting of regret and maniption. Eliana¡¯s body went rigid, shock freezing her in ce as the world narrowed to the unwanted pressure of his mouth, the scent of his cologne overwhelming her senses. Her mind screamed to push him away, but the sling hampered her, and for a split second, old habits of submission warred with her newfound fire.


    Inside the mansion, in the dim confines of his study, Rafael Vexley sat rigidly in his wheelchair, his piercing grey eyes burning with an emotion he refused to name. He couldn¡¯t believe it: Eliana, his caregiver, the woman who¡¯d wormed her way under his skin despite his best efforts, had sped Jason¡¯s hand like a lover reiming her partner and hauled him out of the room as if they were merely squabbling sweethearts. The image reyed in his mind, igniting a fury that twisted his chiseled features into a mask of cold rage.


    "She¡¯s nothing to you," Rafael muttered to himself, his deep voice echoing in the empty room as he gripped the armrests, knuckles whitening. "Just a money-hungry girl ying her part. No reason to be angry." But the words felt hollow, a lie even to his own ears. His calcting mind, sharpened by years of betrayal and istion, rebelled against the intrusion of feeling.


    Unbidden, the memory of that morning flooded back: waking to Eliana¡¯s warm, naked form curled against him, her soft brown skin glowing in the dawn light, her expressive eyes wide with vulnerability. The way her body had fit against his, the unexpected tenderness that had cracked his armored heart. It reyed in vivid detail¡ªthe scent of her hair, the curve of her lips, the way she¡¯d fled in shame. Anger surged anew, hotter this time, but he shoved it down. "Not jealousy," he growled, rising abruptly. "Never that."


    Minutes ticked by in agonizing silence, the study¡¯s antique clock mocking him with its steady rhythm. Unable to sit still, Rafael snatched the CCTV tablet from his desk, his long fingers flying across the screen to pull up the feeds. He scanned the hallways first¡ªempty. Then the garden cameras flickered to life, and there they were: Eliana and Jason, locked in a kiss amid the roses. Her back to the camera, but the intimacy was unmistakable¡ªJason¡¯s arms around her, their bodies pressed close.


    A roar built in Rafael¡¯s chest, primal and unchecked. "Damn it!" he snarled, hurling the tablet across the room with all his athletic strength. It smashed against the wall in a shower of ss and sparks, the screen shattering like hisposure. For the first time in years, the billionaire recluse felt the walls of his carefully constructed world crumbling, jealousy¡ªno, something deeper¡ªwing its way free.

 Chapter 43: Unbelievable Events

    <h4>Chapter 43: Unbelievable Events</h4>


    The rose garden at the Vexley estate was a ce that usually felt like something out of a painting¡ªsunlight spilling through the leaves, petals spilling their perfume into the air, and the quiet hum of bees driftingzily from bloom to bloom. But all of that beauty felt miles away when Jason Asher¡¯s mouth crashed onto hers.


    It wasn¡¯t gentle. It wasn¡¯t wee. His lips clung with a desperate, almost frantic im, tasting faintly of salt and that sharp, expensive cologne that used to make her chest flutter. Now, it only made her stomach twist.


    Eliana froze, too stunned to even breathe. Her arm¡ªstill sore and weak¡ªthrobbed under the sudden press of him, and something deep inside her tried to fold in on itself, whispering the old instinct to stay still, to submit.


    Then¡ªlike a dam finally bursting¡ªEliana¡¯s senses came rushing back in a flood. Her free hand shot forward, mming against Jason¡¯s chest with every ounce of anger she¡¯d been storing for years. She tore herself away, brown eyes lit with a heat that could have set the whole rose garden alight.


    Before he could say a word, her palm connected with his cheek in a sharp, ringing crack. The sound sliced through the still air, startling the bees from the roses.


    Jason stumbled back, one hand flying to his face. Shock widened his hazel eyes, as if he couldn¡¯t quite process the fact that someone like Eliana had just hit someone like him. "Eliana... what the hell? You pped me?"


    Her voice was low, but it carried like steel. "Never," she said, the word almost a growl. "Never in your life should you put your mouth on me again, Jason. Do you hear me?" Her hands were shaking, but her stare didn¡¯t waver. "You lost that right¡ªforever."


    Jason¡¯s face crumpled, his charismatic mask cracking to reveal a glimpse of genuine heartbreak, or at least the closest thing his narcissistic heart could muster. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, his gym-toned shoulders slumping as he stared at her, voice cracking with a mix of pain and confusion. "What¡¯s wrong with you, Eliana? Why have you changed so much? We were good together¡ªperfect, even. I know I messed up, but this... this isn¡¯t you. You¡¯re not this angry, this cold."


    Eliana couldn¡¯t believe the words tumbling from his lips. Her expressive eyes narrowed, disbelief twisting her soft, heart-shaped face into a mask of incredulity. How dare he? After cheating with their best friend, after storming in without a care for her pain, he had the audacity to y the victim? Laughter bubbled up, bitter and hollow, but it died in her throat, reced by a surge of white-hot anger that made her slender frame tremble. "What¡¯s wrong with me? Are you serious, Jason? You¡¯ve been sleeping with Sarai behind my back, lying to my face for God knows how long, and you have the nerve to ask why I¡¯ve changed? Get out! Leave right now¡ªbefore I p you again!"


    Jason¡¯s eyes shed with his own spark of anger, the spoiled heir resurfacing as he straightened, his strong jaw clenching. "You think you can just toss me aside like this, Eliana? After everything? I¡¯m not letting you leave me¡ªnot like that. I¡¯ll be back. We¡¯ll talk when you¡¯ve cooled off." With a final re, he turned on his heel, his stylish casual wear rustling as he stormed off the estate grounds, leaving a trail of crushed rose petals in his wake.


    Eliana stood there, chest heaving, her hair whipping in the breeze as she watched him go. She couldn¡¯t believe it¡ªcouldn¡¯t fathom the depths of his shamelessness. How had she ever loved someone so blind to his own ws, so wrapped up in his ego that he saw her boundaries as mere suggestions? Tears pricked at her eyes, but she blinked them away, her quiet strength hardening into resolve. No more. She turned back toward the mansion, her worn-out slippers crunching on the gravel path, determined to tie up onest loose end before she could breathe freely again.


    Inside the grand mansion, with its polished marble floors and towering ceilings that whispered of old money and hidden secrets, Eliana made her way to Rafael¡¯s study. Her heart pounded, a mix of lingering fury from the garden and the sting of this morning¡¯s humiliation when he¡¯d offered her money like she was a deal to be closed. Still, she owed him an apology for Jason barging in. Just that, then she was gone. Thest thing she wanted was to be in the same room as him. She knocked softly on the heavy oak door, her slung arm aching with the motion.


    "Come in," Rafael¡¯s voice called from within, calm andposed, like a man reading the news, rather than nursing a storm inside.


    Eliana pushed the door open, stepping into the dimly lit room where bookshelves loomed like silent guardians and the scent of aged leather mingled with the faint metallic tang of shattered electronics. Her gaze immediately fell on the broken tablet scattered in pieces against the wall, ss shards glinting like fallen stars on the Persian rug. What had happened here? She nced at Rafael, seated in his wheelchair by the desk, his chiseled jaw set, his dark wavy hair slightly tousled, those steel-grey eyes staring nkly ahead. But she bit her tongue; she wasn¡¯t here to pry or linger. She was here to apologize and leave. That¡¯s it. She didn¡¯t want to see him, not after he¡¯d treated her like dirt.


    She drew in a breath to speak, but Rafael¡¯s voice sliced through the room before she could get a word out¡ªlow, cold, and without even turning to face her, as if he could smell her presence like a predator.


    "So, you came back. Are you really that low, Eliana? Two men at once? I didn¡¯t take you for the type."


    The words hit her like a punch to the ribs, knocking the air from her lungs. She froze, heat rushing to her face, lips parting in stunned disbelief. After everything, he had the nerve¡ª? Her eyes locked on him, wide at first, but the hurt quickly burned away, leaving nothing but ice.


    "How dare you? What gives you the right¡ªthe moral high ground¡ªto say something like that to me, Rafael? Just because you¡¯re rich, because you own this mansion and half the city, doesn¡¯t mean you get to treat me like trash. I¡¯m done. I¡¯m leaving your house right now. If you want to send me to jail or... or kill my father, then go ahead. But I¡¯m so done with your bullshit!"


    With that, she spun on her heel, storming out of the study, the door mming behind her like a final punctuation to her shattered hopes in his humanity. Her heart raced, tears blurring her vision as she hurried down the hallway, but beneath the pain, a spark of pride flickered¡ªshe¡¯d chosen herself, finally.


    Back in the study, Rafael Vexley sat motionless, his piercing grey eyes staring at the door she¡¯d just mmed. Guilt pricked at his heart like a thousand needles, sharp and unrelenting. He¡¯dshed out from that unjustified anger, the jealousy that burned when he¡¯d seen her on the CCTV, locked in Jason¡¯s embrace. And now? He¡¯d pushed her to the brink, to choosing jail or her father¡¯s death over staying. Her father¡ªthe man she loved with a fierce, protective devotion that Rafael had glimpsed in her actions and worried nces. He hadn¡¯t even apologized for this morning, for turning their drunken mistake into a cheap payout. What a fool he¡¯d been.


    "Damn it, Rafael," he muttered to himself, his deep voiceced with self-scorn, "you¡¯re too hot-headed for your own good." Gripping the wheels of his chair, he propelled himself out of the study, the mansion¡¯s corridors blurring as he raced toward her room, determination etching his handsome features.


    Meanwhile, in the sanctuary of her bedroom, Eliana yanked her suitcase from the closet, her movements frantic despite the sling hampering her right arm. Thank God she hadn¡¯t unpacked yet; it made this easier, quicker. She was done¡ªdone with the betrayals, the maniptions, the emotional whish. Done with everyone. Tugging at her sweater with her good hand, she struggled to change, wincing as fabric caught on the sling, her mind a whirlwind of anger and sorrow. Last night shed in fragments:ughter, warmth, but it was all still a blur and besides it ended in shame.


    A knock echoed at the door¡ªfirm, insistent. She knew it must be Rafael. She ignored it, gritting her teeth as she finally shrugged into a fresh blouse. Meanwhile at the other side of the door, the knocks grew louder, drawing curious nces from the maids who hovered in the hallway, pretending to dust but stealing peeks like spectators at a drama.


    Once dressed, Eliana grabbed her suitcase, wheeling it toward the door with defiant resolve. She flung it open, ready to push past him, but in a blur of motion, Rafael¡¯s strong hand shot out, grasping her waist and pulling her onto hisp. Eliana gasped, shock rippling through her as the wheelchair rolled backwards into the room, Rafael shoving the suitcase aside with his chair before mming the door shut and blocking it with his chair as well.


    "What¡ª?" Eliana yelped, scrambling off hisp in a flurry of limbs, her heart pounding wildly. A fleeting memory surfaced¡ªsitting on hispst night, giggling amidst the haze of whatever had led to their intimacy¡ªbut it vanished as quickly as it came. She shook her head, curls bouncing, and fixed him with a re. "What are you doing, Rafael? What do you want from me now?"


    Rafael, maintaining his pretense of blindness, tilted his head slightly, his grey eyes unfocused but his voice softening with rare vulnerability. "I¡¯m sorry, Eliana. For what I said just now in the study... and for what I said this morning. All of it. I was wrong¡ªcruel, even. You didn¡¯t deserve that."


    Eliana¡¯s jaw dropped, her expressive eyes widening in total shock, as if the world had tilted on its axis. A man like Rafael Vexley¡ªcold, calcting billionaire¡ªapologizing? She couldn¡¯t believe her ears, her full lips parting in astonishment as she searched his face for deceit. But there was none; only sincerity etched in the lines of his chiseled jaw.


    He reached out tentatively, his long fingers "searching" the air before finding her hand, enveloping it in his warm, firm grip. The contact sent a jolt through her, unexpected and electric. "I mean it," he continued, his deep voiceced with regret, "I¡¯m really sorry. You¡¯ve been nothing but patient, kind, even when I didn¡¯t deserve it. And I¡¯ve hurt you¡ªdeeply. I¡¯ll try topensate for all of it, make it right somehow. Please... give me a chance to show you."


    Eliana stood there, frozen, her eyes locked on his, the room thick with unspoken emotions. Her heart raced, a whirlwind of confusion, anger, and something dangerously close to hope swirling within her. How could this be real?

 Chapter 44: Emotional Whiplash

    <h4>Chapter 44: Emotional Whish</h4>


    Eliana¡¯s heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might break free from her chest, a wild thing desperate to escape. Her big brown eyes, still wide in disbelief, stayed locked on Rafael as if staring long enough might make him make sense. The space around them seemed to shrink, the air growing heavy and electric¡ªthick with the residue of everything they¡¯d thrown at each other moments ago.


    His hand rested over hers, warm and steady, a quiet contrast to the storm he¡¯d been moments earlier. The touch sent a rush through her that she hated¡ªhalf reassurance, half warning¡ªlike stepping into the sun but knowing rain is just behind the clouds. She eased her hand back, the motion slow, curls brushing against her cheeks as she shook her head. How could this be the same man who loved making her feel small and bad at every chance he got? The same man who, from the moment their eyes first met, had been her tormentor?


    "What... what are you nning, Rafael?" she asked, her voice trembling butced with suspicion. "Why are you apologizing now? Is this some kind of game to you? Another way to keep me here, under your thumb?"


    Rafael let out a low, rumblingugh that echoed softly in the room, not mocking but tinged with a rare self-deprecation. He tilted his head, his grey eyes maintaining that unfocused gaze, his chiseled jaw softening just a fraction. "nning? Eliana, no¡ªI¡¯m not plotting anything, I swear. I¡¯m sorry. For the words that cut deeper than they should have, for the snap judgments I threw at you without thinking. You¡¯ve tolerated me more than I probably deserve¡ªand I¡¯m well aware I¡¯m not exactly easypany. Most people would¡¯ve walked away the moment we met. But instead of making it easier, I¡¯ve made it worse¡ªbeen sharp, petty, downright cruel, and not because you earned it. That¡¯s not who I want to be with you. I just... I hope my own stupidity isn¡¯t the thing that pushes you out the door."


    She crossed her arms over her chest, the sling on her right arm making the motion awkward, but her stance defiant. The emotional whish left her dizzy, her full lips pressed into a thin line. "Sorry isn¡¯t enough, Rafael. You used me of... of things I would never do. And now you¡¯re begging me to stay? Why should I believe any of this?"


    He leaned forward in his wheelchair, his athletic build straining against the crisp lines of his designer shirt, as if the pretense of fragility couldn¡¯t fully contain themanding presence beneath. "Please, don¡¯t leave. Don¡¯t make good on those threats¡ªI couldn¡¯t bear it. I promise, from this moment, I¡¯ll treat you better. No more games, no more walls. I¡¯ll prove how sorry I am, one way or another. But for now... go freshen up. Join me for breakfast. And after that, I¡¯ll take you to see your father. I can tell, without you even saying it, how worried you are about him. The way your voice caught when you mention him earlier, the shadows in your eyes¡ªit¡¯s written all over you."


    Eliana¡¯s mouth hung open, her expressive face a canvas of shock and confusion. How could he know that? The constant knot in her stomach over her father¡¯s frail health, the fear that gnawed at her every quiet moment¡ªit was like he¡¯d peeled back heryers without effort. Before she could respond, Rafael gently nudged her further into the room, his hand brushing her arm with a feather-light touch that sent an unwee shiver down her spine.


    "Go on," he urged softly, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Take your time. I¡¯ll wait."


    As she stepped back, still stunned, Rafael turned his chair toward the door. He stretched out his hand, fingers sying in the air like delicate sensors, tracing the invisible path to the handle. It was a motion born of habit, not just performance¡ªafter all, blindness had been his reality for so long, etched into his muscles like an old scar. His fingertips grazed the cool metal, twisting it with practiced ease, and he wheeled himself out, the door clicking shut behind him with a finality that left the room echoing in silence.


    Eliana stood frozen for what felt like an eternity, her slender frame rooted to the spot as minutes ticked by. Her mind raced like a storm-tossed sea: What was his angle? Why this sudden apology, this vulnerability from a man who thrived on suspicion and control? But beneath the doubt, a small voice whispered that maybe, just maybe, he was genuine. The regret in his eyes¡ªthose piercing grey depths¡ªhad seemed real, raw. And truthfully, leaving wasn¡¯t in her best interest, or her father¡¯s. Quitting this job, bizarre as it had been¡ªwith no actual caregiving done yet¡ªwould mean jail or worse, as he¡¯d threatened. She couldn¡¯t risk that, not when her father¡¯s life hung by such a fragile thread.


    With a deep, steadying breath, she dragged her suitcase back into the closet, the wheels rumbling softly over the plush carpet. The decision settled over her like a tentative truce. She¡¯d calm down, y along, see where this led. Pushing open the bathroom door, she stripped off her rumpled clothes, wincing as the sling caught on fabric. The shower¡¯s hot spray fell over her warm brown skin, washing away the sticky remnants ofst night¡¯s alcohol haze. She lingered under the water, letting it soothe the ache in her muscles and the fog in her head, emerging refreshed but still wary, her long curly ck hair damp and fragrant with shampoo.


    Meanwhile, in his ownvish suite down the hall, Rafael shed his pretense in private. He rose from the wheelchair with fluid grace, his tall, athletic form moving to the en-suite bathroom. The steam from his shower fogged the mirrors, but he didn¡¯t need them to confront the turmoil within. As water pounded against his broad shoulders, he reyed the morning¡¯s chaos¡ªthe jealousy that had ignited like wildfire at the sight of her with Jason, the words he¡¯d regretted the instant they left his lips. Apologizing wasn¡¯t in his nature; vulnerability was a luxury he couldn¡¯t afford in his world of betrayals. But Eliana... she was different. She chipped at his armor without trying. Drying off, he dressed in another impable suit, dark waves of hairbed back, before settling back into the chair, resuming his role.


    They met in the grand hallway, the mansion¡¯s opulent chandeliers creating golden light on the marble floors. Eliana, now in a simple blouse and jeans that hugged her slender figure with modest elegance, wheeled Rafael toward the dining room. The air carried the tantalizing scents of fresh coffee, baked pastries, and sizzling bacon, but she didn¡¯t think much of it until they entered the vast space. The table stretched like a battlefield,den with silver tters under crystal domes. Six maids stood at attention in their crisp white uniforms, starched aprons gleaming, their postures rigid as soldiers awaitingmand. ra, the head housekeeper with her stern bun and sharp eyes, hovered by the head of the table, where Rafael¡¯s spot awaited.


    Rafael maneuvered his chair to his ce with ease, the breakfast array already spread before him: golden croissants king delicately, eggs poached to perfection with yolks like liquid sunshine, fresh berries glistening in porcin bowls, and steaming coffee in a china cup. Eliana hesitated for a split second, then chose a chair directly opposite him, sinking into the cushioned seat with a soft sigh. The moment her weight settled, a collective gasp rippled through the room¡ªlike a gust of wind disturbing still waters. The maids¡¯ eyes widened in unison, hands fluttering to their mouths, while ra¡¯s face tightened in disapproval.


    ra stepped forward, her voice a hushed whisperced with urgency as she leaned toward Eliana. "Miss Bet, no one is allowed to sit at the dining table with Mr. Vexley. It¡¯s... it¡¯s simply not done. Please, get up. He really hates it. I¡¯ll prepare your breakfast in the kitchen¡ªsomething suitable for the staff."


    Eliana¡¯s eyes widened, heat flooding her cheeks as embarrassment coiled in her gut. She shifted, half-rising from the chair, her good hand gripping the armrest. "Oh, I¡ªI¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t know. I thought¡ª"


    But Rafael¡¯s voice cut through the tension like a lightning, firm and unyielding. "Sit down, Eliana." He turned his head toward ra¡¯s general direction, his unfocused gaze steady. "Prepare a te for her. She¡¯s eating with me¡ªfrom now on. That¡¯s an order."


    Another gasp echoed, louder this time, a chorus of shock that hung in the air like smoke. The maids exchanged furtive nces, their expressions a kaleidoscope: some narrowed eyes burned with thinly veiled anger, as if Eliana had encroached on sacred ground; others bloomed with wide-eyed surprise, brows arched high; a few twisted into suspicion, lips pursing as whispers threatened to escape. Eliana turned nervously, her honey-brown eyes darting across their faces, feeling the weight of their stares like pins pricking her skin. What had she stumbled into? This wasn¡¯t just breakfast; it was a deration, a shift in the mansion¡¯s unspoken hierarchy.


    ra hesitated, her hands sping tightly, but she nodded curtly. "As you wish, sir." She bustled to the sideboard, ting food with efficient, if reluctant, motions: a croissant dusted with powdered sugar, eggs with a sprinkle of herbs, a cluster of ruby-red strawberries, and a cup of coffee poured with steaming precision.


    Rafael, sensing the unease, leaned back in his chair, a small smile curving his lips¡ªrare, genuine, transforming his handsome features from stone to something almost approachable. "Hurry up and eat, Eliana. We have to go see your father soon." His voice warmed, the smile lingering as he added, "Can¡¯t have you starving on my watch."


    Eliana stared at him, fork hovering mid-air. Rafael Vexley smiling? It was like witnessing a cier crack, revealing hidden depths beneath. But with the maids¡¯ eyes boring into her back¡ªsharp as daggers, heavy as judgment¡ªthe meal felt less like nourishment and more like an execution. Each bite of the ky croissant turned to ash in her mouth, the eggs sliding down her throat like lead. The clink of silverware amplified in the silence, the maids¡¯ presence a looming shadow, their whispers faint but cutting. She forced a swallow, ncing at Rafael, who ate withposed ease, oblivious¡ªor perhaps deliberately ignoring¡ªthe drama unfolding around them.


    "Is... is everything alright?" she ventured softly, her voice sounding like a whisper, hoping to pierce the awkward veil.


    He chuckled lightly, a sound that carried a hint of amusement, breaking the tension like a unexpected ray of sun. "Better than alright. For the first time in a while, it feels... right." His words hung there,ced with unspoken promise, as the maids shuffled ufortably, their world tilting on this unforeseen axis.


    Eliana managed a tentative smile, though her heart still raced. The breakfast dragged on, each moment stretched by the invisible currents of emotion swirling in the room¡ªhope flickering in her chest, wariness in her mind, and the ever-present drama of a house built on betrayals.

 Chapter 45: A Kind Soul

    <h4>Chapter 45: A Kind Soul</h4>


    The dining room of the Vexley mansion was the kind of ce that made you sit straighter without realizing it¡ªceilings so high you could almost lose sight of them, walls lined with old portraits of people who looked like they¡¯d never smiled in their lives. Sunlight poured through the tall windows, catching on half-eaten croissants and cooling coffee cups. The maids hovered at the edges, quiet and watchful, their white uniforms a sharp contrast against all the gold and dark wood.


    Eliana pushed her eggs around her te, the yolk already cold and sticky. Her head was a mess of questions. Why was Rafael being... nice? It didn¡¯t feel right. Like something fragile that could break if she breathed too hard.


    Rafael sat at the head of the table in his wheelchair, posture straight, every bit the king of the room. His grey eyes¡ªcloudy in that way he liked people to think meant weakness¡ªshifted toward one of the maids.


    "Vera," he said, his voice smooth but with that edge that made people move before they even thought about it.


    A young maid with freckles dotting her nose and auburn hair tucked neatly under her cap stepped forward, her hands sped nervously in front of her apron. "Yes, Mr. Vexley?" she replied, her tone deferential, though a flicker of curiosity danced in her green eyes.


    "Go to the garden," Rafael said, drumming his fingers on the chair¡¯s armrest. "Cut a bouquet of the red roses¡ªthe ones by the fountain that look like they¡¯re on fire ording to ra. Make sure they¡¯re fresh. No dead petals. Then put together a fruit basket¡ªapples, crisp ones, oranges full of juice, some grapes that look too perfect to eat. It¡¯s for someone in the hospital."


    Vera blinked, her cheeks flushing slightly as she nodded. "Right away, sir." She curtsied quickly and hurried out, her footsteps echoing softly on the marble floor, leaving a trail of whispers among the other maids.


    Eliana¡¯s fork froze midway to her mouth, her eyes widening in speechless wonder. Roses? Fruits? For her father? The gesture wrapped around her heart like a warm embrace, yet it squeezed with suspicion. Why was he doing this? Rafael Vexley, the cold billionaire who up to an hour ago treated her like an intruder in his world, now orchestrating gifts as if they were old friends. Her lips parted, but no words came at first, only a soft exhale of disbelief.


    "Mr Vexley," she finally managed, her voice tentative,ced with a mix of gratitude and protest. "You... you don¡¯t have to do that. Really, it¡¯s too much. My father¡ªhe wouldn¡¯t expect anything like this."


    He turned his head toward her, that small, enigmatic smile ying on his lips again, the one that made his chiseled jawline soften just a fraction. "Nonsense, Eliana. I can¡¯t go empty-handed. This visit is sudden, so we¡¯ll make do with what¡¯s at hand for now. But next time? Next time, I¡¯ll send him something better¡ªperhaps a collection of rare books or a custom piece of art. Something that speaks to a man¡¯s soul. And Eliana? It¡¯s Rafael, not Mr Vexley."


    Eliana opened her mouth a couple of times then closed it before she eventually shook her head, her long curly hair swaying gently, catching the light like ebony waves. "No, please. He doesn¡¯t need gifts. You¡¯ve already done so much¡ªpaying for his treatment, giving me a job. That¡¯s more than enough."


    Rafael leaned back slightly, his voice dropping to a matter-of-fact tone that brooked no argument, yet carried an undercurrent of warmth that surprised even him. "As a matter of fact, I do have to. It¡¯s not just courtesy; it¡¯s respect. For him, for you." His words hung in the air, heavy with unspokenyers, and for a moment, the room felt smaller, the distance between them shrinking under the weight of his gaze¡ªfeigned blindness or not.


    Eliana searched his face, her expressive eyes flickering with emotion, but she didn¡¯t argue further. Instead, she nodded slowly, a soft "Okay" escaping her lips, though inside, her heart fluttered like a caged bird. Who was this man sitting across from her? The Rafael she knew was a fortress of sarcasm and detachment, not this... benefactor weaving kindness like a spell.


    The breakfast dragged on in awkward silence after that, punctuated only by the clink of silverware and the asional rustle of the maids clearing tes. Eliana¡¯s sling-bound arm ached faintly, a reminder of the car ident, but the real difort stemmed from the invisible tension coiling around them. Finally, Rafael set down his napkin with a decisive fold. "That¡¯s enough. We¡¯re done here." He reached for the small inte on the table, pressing a button. "Luke? Prepare the car. Eliana and I are heading to the hospital."


    The driver¡¯s voice crackled back promptly. "Yes, sir. I¡¯ll be out front in five minutes."


    Eliana nced up, surprised. "Not James? I thought he was your usual driver."


    Rafael¡¯s expression softened imperceptibly, a rare flicker of genuine affection crossing his features. "James is my secretary not my driver. He only drives when he wants to. Today is James¡¯s off day. And of all the people buzzing around me like flies, he¡¯s the only one I actually like¡ªand trust. I¡¯d walk through fire to keep him happy, even if it means not bothering him on his time off. He¡¯s more than a secretary; he¡¯s... a friend." He paused, as if the word tasted foreign on his tongue, one he¡¯d never voiced to James himself. "Besides, I don¡¯t need to drag him into every little outing."


    She nodded, touched by the revtion, a glimpse into the lonely fortress that was Rafael Vexley. As they waited, Vera returned, breathless, presenting the bouquet¡ªa explosion of crimson roses, their petals velvety and fragrant, tied with a satin ribbon¡ªand a wicker basket overflowing with vibrant fruits, the apples gleaming ruby-red, oranges like captured suns, grapes plump and inviting.


    "The gifts are ready, sir," Vera announced, her tone crisp and assured.


    Rafael¡¯s clouded gaze shifted to Eliana, a question in his expression. "Do you think they¡¯re worthy of your father?"


    Eliana¡¯s lips curved into a slow smile, awe shimmering in her voice. "Worthy? They¡¯re beyond worthy."


    "Perfect," Rafael said, his voice approving. "Thank you, Vera."


    The maid beamed faintly before retreating, and soon, they were ushered to the waiting ck SUV, its tinted windows reflecting the mansion¡¯s imposing facade like a dark mirror.


    Inside the car, as the engine purred to life and the vehicle glided down the winding driveway, Eliana¡¯s stomach twisted into knots. The leather seats cradled her slender frame, butfort eluded her. Sitting beside Rafael like this¡ªhim in his crisp designer suit, exuding quiet power even in his vulnerability¡ªfelt intimate, awkward, charged with an electricity she couldn¡¯t name. His sudden niceness wrapped around her like a gold chain, pulling her closer while whispering warnings in her ear. ¡¯He¡¯s nning something,¡¯ a suspicious voice nagged in her mind. ¡¯People like him don¡¯t change overnight.¡¯ But she scolded herself silently: ¡¯People can change. Even Rafael Vexley. Give him a chance.¡¯


    Rafael, sensing her tension perhaps through the subtle shift in her breathing, broke the silence first. "So, Eliana," he began, his voice casual yet probing, "tell me more about your father. What¡¯s he like?"


    She turned to him, her brown eyes softening at the mention of Frank. "He¡¯s... everything to me. Kind, wise, always putting others first. Even when Mom left us, he never spoke a bad word about her. He worked himself to the bone as a garbage man back then, just to keep food on the table. Now, with his illness..." Her voice trailed off, emotion thickening her throat.


    Rafael nodded, his unfocused gaze directed out the window, though he absorbed every nuance. "Sounds like a man worth knowing. Strong, like you. What does he enjoy? Books? Music?"


    Eliana smiled faintly, pushing the suspicion deeper into the recesses of her mind. "Books, definitely. Old ssics¡ªDickens, Twain. And he loves jazz. Used to hum it while gardening, saying it made the flowers bloom brighter." She chuckled softly, the sound light and genuine, easing the knot in her stomach just a bit.


    Heughed¡ªa low, rumbling sound that surprised her with its warmth. "Jazz and flowers. Noted. Maybe next time, I¡¯ll bring a vinyl record. Something vintage, to match his spirit."


    The conversation flowed then, mini threads weaving through the drive. "What¡¯s your favorite memory with him?" Rafael asked next, his tone inviting, as if peeling backyers of her world.


    Eliana leaned back, her voice heartfelt. "Summers in our tiny backyard. He¡¯d push me on a rickety swing he built himself, telling stories about far-off ces. Even when we had nothing, he made it feel like everything."


    "That¡¯s beautiful," Rafael replied, a hint of envy creeping into his voice, though he masked it with sarcasm. "My childhood memories involve hospitals and backstabbing rtives. Not exactly swing-set material."


    Sheughed, the sound bubbling up unexpectedly. "Well, maybe you need a swing in that massive garden of yours. Could loosen up that CEO stiffness."


    He arched an eyebrow, amusement twinkling in his eyes despite the pretense. "Are you calling me stiff, Miss Bet? Careful¡ªI might make you push me on it."


    Their banter continued, light and teasing, as the cityscape blurred past¡ªskyscrapers giving way to quieter streets lined with blooming jacarandas. Eliana replied wholeheartedly, her words flowing freely, the suspicion fading like morning mist under the sun of his unexpected charm. By the time they arrived at the hospital, a sprawling modern building with ss facades reflecting the blue sky, she felt a tentative ease settling over her.


    Eliana guided Rafael through the bustling lobby, her good hand lightly on his wheelchair¡¯s handle, navigating past nurses in scrubs and patients shuffling with IV poles. The sterile scent of antiseptic mingled with the faint floral aroma from the bouquet she carried. "This way," she murmured, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest.


    At the door to the VIP room, Rafael paused. "Eliana," he said softly, "would it be alright if I go in and say hi to your father? I don¡¯t want to intrude, but... I¡¯d like to meet him."


    She stared at him, shock rippling through her like a wave. Rafael Vexley, wanting to meet her frail father? "I... uh, sure. Okay," she stammered, her heart pounding as she helped maneuver his chair through the door.


    The room was a haven of quiet luxury¡ªsoft beige walls, arge window overlooking a garden, machines beeping rhythmically like a gentle heartbeat. Frank Bety in the bed, looking far better than before: color had returned to his weathered face, his greying hair neatlybed, gentle dark eyes alert and energetic. Tubes snaked from his arms, but he sat propped up, a book open on hisp.


    When his eyesnded on Eliana, a radiant smile broke across his face, crinkling the corners like well-worn leather. "Eliana! My girl!" But as his gaze shifted to Rafael, curiosity furrowed his brow. "And who¡¯s this?"


    Eliana rolled Rafael¡¯s chair closer to the bed, her own smile the biggest she¡¯d worn in days, beaming with pure joy. "Dad! Oh, it¡¯s so good to see you looking stronger." She leaned in, careful of her sling, and hugged him gently, inhaling the familiar scent of soap and earth that always clung to him.


    Frank hugged her back, his voice warm but puzzled. "I¡¯m doing alright, sweetheart. Feeling more like myself today. But what¡¯s with the sling? What happened to your hand?"


    Before Eliana could respond, Rafael interjected smoothly, his voiceced with feigned remorse. "That would be my fault, Mr. Bet. Eliana was helping me with my wheelchair the day before yesterday, and she took a tumble. I¡¯m truly sorry¡ªI¡¯ve been the cause of her pain."


    Eliana¡¯s mouth hung open, a gasp caught in her throat. He was taking the me for her car ident? Twisting the truth like a pretzel?


    Rafael extended a hand toward Frank, his posture impable. "I¡¯m Rafael Vexley, by the way. Eliana¡¯s friend."


    Her eyes widened further, nearly bulging. Friend? When had that happened? "Actually, Dad," she cut in quickly, "he¡¯s my employer. Mr. Vexley hired me as his caregiver."


    Frank¡¯s face transformed into one of profound gratitude, his gentle eyes shining. "Mr. Vexley, I can¡¯t thank you enough. For taking care of my needs here in the hospital, and for giving my daughter a job. You¡¯re a godsend."


    Rafael shook his head humbly. "No thanks necessary, Mr. Bet. It¡¯s my pleasure. Truly."


    Eliana busied herself then, cing the vibrant roses into a vase on the bedside table¡ªtheir petals unfurling like secrets¡ªand setting the fruit basket nearby, the fruits¡¯ colors popping against the sterile white.


    As she returned, she caught the tail end of Frank¡¯s words to Rafael. "...and I can see you¡¯ve been dealt a tough hand by the world, son. Blindness¡ªit¡¯s not fair. But look at you, still out here being kind, helping folks like us. You¡¯re a beautiful soul, Mr. Vexley. The earth will reward you for that heart of yours."


    Rafael¡¯s response was humble, his voice soft and sincere¡ªor so it seemed. "I¡¯m just happy to help whenever I can, Mr. Bet. Hearing theughter of people around me... it makes my heart happy. Fills the darkness with light, in a way."


    Eliana¡¯s mouth hung open again, disbelief crashing over her like ocean waves Rafael Vexley, pretending to be the kindest man alive? They both knew he was the opposite¡ªcold, calcting, a puppet master pulling strings from the shadows. Yet here he was, his pure smile gleaming like polished bullshit, suspending her heart in mid-air. When she looked at him, that facade cracking just enough to reveal... what? Vulnerability? Deception? She didn¡¯t know what to make of it, her emotions a tangled storm of hope, wariness, and something dangerously close to affection.

 Chapter 46: A Good Day Gone Bad

    <h4>Chapter 46: A Good Day Gone Bad</h4>


    Eliana and Rafael had lingered in Frank¡¯s hospital room for nearly four hours, trading quiet conversation and asionalughter with the old man. She¡¯d been grateful before, but this... this was different. Rafael hadn¡¯t owed her a second of his time, yet he¡¯d stayed¡ªpatient, present¡ªfor her and her father, even when the only thing tying them together on paper was an employer¡¯s signature.


    By the time the sleek ck SUV slid away from the hospital¡¯s ss-and-steel facade, the afternoon light had softened into a golden haze. Eliana sat beside him in the spacious back, her arm cradled in its sling, while Rafael lounged in his wheelchair with the ease of someone unbothered by the world¡¯s opinions. The hum of the engine filled the silence, but it wasn¡¯t the same silence they¡¯d shared before.


    Something had shifted¡ªsomething unspoken, weightless yet undeniable. It hung in the air between them like thest warm breeze before winter. Eliana¡¯s lips curved into a small, almost shy smile, but behind it, questions stirred restlessly in her mind, tumbling over one another like autumn leaves chasing the wind.


    Eliana turned to Rafael, her brown eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and curiosity. "You know, Mr. Vexley," she began, her voice soft but teasing, "you¡¯re quite the actor. The way you yed the humble, heartfelt phnthropist back there with my dad... it was Oscar-worthy."


    Rafael¡¯s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile, and then¡ªto her utter surprise¡ªa deep, rumblingugh escaped him, filling the car like thunder rolling across a clear sky. It was the first time she¡¯d heard himugh so freely, without the sharp edge of sarcasm. He tilted his head toward her, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "An actor, am I? Well, Miss Bet, I¡¯ll take that as apliment. But let me set the record straight: everything I said to your father was true. I do love hearing peopleugh. It fills the darkness with light, as I told him. The only catch is... they have to do it on the inside, where no one can see."


    Eliana blinked, processing his words, and then she burst intoughter herself¡ªuncontrolled, heartfelt peals that made her shoulders shake and her good hand clutch her side. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she gasped for breath. "On the inside? Oh, Rafael, that¡¯s ridiculous! You¡¯re impossible. How canughter fill anything if it¡¯s trapped inside like that?"


    He chuckled again, leaning back with a satisfied grin. "See? You¡¯reughing now, and it¡¯s lighting up this whole car. Mission aplished."


    Theirughter faded into afortable silence as the car wound through the city streets, but Eliana¡¯s mind raced. She nced at him, her expression turning thoughtful. "Speaking of missions... don¡¯t you have to go to work today? You¡¯re the CEO of half the world, aren¡¯t you? Won¡¯t your empire crumble without you?"


    Rafael waved a dismissive hand, his tone casual yetmanding. "No, not today. Thepany can survive one day without me micromanaging every detail. Honestly, Eliana, I feel like rxing for once. No board meetings, no scheming rtives¡ªjust a quiet afternoon. It¡¯s... liberating."


    She nodded, a soft smile ying on her lips. "Liberating. I like the sound of that."


    By the time they arrived at Rafael¡¯s sprawling mansion the sun hung low. Eliana helped guide his wheelchair up the ramp, her touch gentle on the handles. Once inside the grand foyer, with its crystal chandeliers sparkling overhead and the faint scent of polished wood lingering in the air, she paused and turned to him.


    "Rafael," she said, her voice earnest,ced with a hint of guilt, "as your caregiver, is there anything I can do for you right now? I mean, ever since I started this job, I haven¡¯t really done any work. You¡¯ve given me so much¡ªpaying for Dad¡¯s treatment, this ce to stay¡ªand I feel ufortable just taking without giving back. I want to return your kindness with hard work. Please, let me help."


    He regarded her for a moment, his chiseled jaw tightening slightly as if weighing his words. Then, his voice softened, carrying a vulnerability she hadn¡¯t heard before. "Eliana, I appreciate that more than you know. Truth is, I can manage most of my... problems on my own. The day-to-day stuff? I¡¯ve got it covered. But I do need a caregiver for the harder parts¡ªthe ones that remind me of my limitations. And right now, there¡¯s only one thing I¡¯ve always wanted to do, but I never had the right person for it."


    Her brows furrowed in curiosity, her heart skipping a beat at the intimacy in his tone. "What is it? Tell me, and I¡¯ll do my best."


    A yful smirk tugged at his lips. "I¡¯ve always wanted to watch a movie with someone who could describe it to me, word for word. Every scene, every expression, every little detail. No one¡¯s ever had the patience¡ªor the heart¡ªfor it."


    Eliana¡¯s eyes widened in surprise; she hadn¡¯t expected something so simple, so human, from a man like him. But warmth flooded her chest, chasing away the shadows of her doubts. "A movie? I... I didn¡¯t expect that, but of course. I¡¯d love to. I¡¯ll do my best to paint it all for you."


    With that, they headed to the kitchen. Eliana insisted on making popcorn herself, waving off the maids with a determined smile. "No, no, I can handle this. It¡¯s just popcorn¡ªhow hard can it be? Besides, I don¡¯t want to bother anyone when I can do it myself."


    Rafael, still in his wheelchair, rolled closer, his athletic frame leaning forward with interest. "Let me help. Since one of your hands is in that sling, my hands can be yours. And your eyes... well, they¡¯ll be mine."


    Sheughed, a light, melodic sound that echoed off the walls. "Deal. Okay, first, grab the kernels from that cab¡ªyes, there. Now, pour them into the pot. Careful, not too many!"


    As they worked together, the kitchen filled with the sizzle of oil heating and the pop-pop-pop of kernels exploding into fluffy white clouds. Rafael¡¯s strong hands followed her directions precisely, but not without mishaps¡ªa spill here, a burnt batch there¡ªthat had them both dissolving into giggles. "See? Told you I needed your eyes," he teased, wiping a streak of butter from his cheek. "Without them, I¡¯d be lost in a sea of chaos."


    Eliana shook her head, her long hair swaying. "And without your hands, I¡¯d be juggling one-armed. We¡¯re a team, I guess."


    The fun lingered like the buttery aroma as they finished, piling the popcorn into a massive bowl sprinkled with salt, then they left the kitchen. Eliana then helped Rafael out of his wheelchair, her good arm supporting his feigned unsteady steps as they moved to the couch in the opulent home theater room. Plush leather seats reclined under dimmed lights, and a massive screen dominated one wall, surrounded by speakers that promised immersive sound. Rafael picked a movie at random from his voice-activated system¡ªa romanticedy titled "Love in the Mix," about a clumsy baker and a uptight executive who swap lives.


    As the opening credits rolled, Eliana settled beside him, the bowl between them. She began narrating with enthusiasm, her voice vivid and animated. "Okay, the scene opens in a bustling city bakery. There¡¯s flour everywhere¡ªwhite dust on the counters, the floor. The heroine, Mia, is kneading dough, her apron smeared with chocte. She¡¯s got this frustrated look, muttering to herself about a bad date. Now, cut to the hero, Jack, in a sleek office, yelling into his phone about a merger gone wrong. He¡¯s pacing, tie askew, looking all stressed and handsome."


    Rafael listened intently, his head tilted as if absorbing every word, though his sharp eyes¡ªhidden behind the pretense¡ªtook in the screen fully. He munched on popcorn, asionally chuckling at her descriptions. "Word for word, huh? You¡¯re nailing it. Tell me, what¡¯s Mia¡¯s expression when she drops the cake?"


    Eliana leaned in, her tone dramatic. "Oh, it¡¯s priceless¡ªeyes wide like saucers, mouth open in horror as the three-tiered masterpiece sts on the floor in slow motion. Frosting flies everywhere, hitting a customer in the face. And Jack? He¡¯s just stormed into the bakery by mistake, and now he¡¯s covered in pink icing, ring daggers."


    Theirughter mingled with the film¡¯s soundtrack, the room alive with shared joy. Rafael¡¯s sarcasm softened into genuine amusement, his walls cracking further with each quip. "Sounds like my kind of chaos. Keep going¡ªdon¡¯t miss a beat."


    Hours slipped by in a haze of giggles and gasps, Eliana¡¯s narrations growing more borate, infused with her own emotional ir. "Now they¡¯re dancing in the rain, twirling under streetlights. Mia¡¯sughing, her wet hair stered to her face, and Jack¡¯s finally smiling¡ªreally smiling¡ªfor the first time. It¡¯s so romantic, Rafael. You can feel the spark."


    He nodded, a soft sigh escaping him. "I can picture it perfectly, thanks to you."


    But as the movie hit a lull, Eliana¡¯s throat grew parched. "Pause for a second," she said, standing. "I need more fizzy drinks for us. That popcorn¡¯s salty. Be right back¡ªdon¡¯t let the plot twist without me!"


    She hurried to the kitchen, her steps light, but froze in the doorway. There, by the spice rack, stood Celina Vexley¡ªRafael¡¯s spoiled stepsister, her morous blonde hair tied back, designer jeans hugging her lithe frame¡ªand a maid, both hunched over jars of herbs and powders. Their hands moved furtively, mixing something into a small vial. The air smelled oddly sharp, like mingled cinnamon and something metallic.


    When they noticed Eliana, Celina jumped, her blue eyes widening in shock, the vial ttering to the counter. The maid gasped, stepping back like a deer in headlights.


    "What... what are you doing here?" Celina snapped, recovering quickly, her voice dripping with venom. She straightened, crossing her arms over her sequined top.


    Eliana frowned, ncing at the spices. "I just came for drinks. What are you two up to? It looks... suspicious."


    Celina¡¯s face twisted into a sneer, her entitlement ring like a match. "Suspicious? Please. This is my house, peasant. What are you still doing here, anyway? Hasn¡¯t Rafael finished sleeping with you yet? I figured he¡¯d kick you out by now, like the trash you are."


    The words hit Eliana like a p, igniting a fire in her chest. Her warm brown skin flushed with anger, her expressive eyes narrowing. "Excuse me? How dare you talk to me like that! I¡¯m not some toy, and Rafael isn¡¯t like that. You have no right¡ª"


    Celina¡¯s hand flew out, cracking across Eliana¡¯s cheek with a sharp sting that echoed in the kitchen. Pain bloomed hot and immediate, but fury overrode it. Eliana¡¯s naive trust shattered in that moment, reced by the quiet strength she¡¯d always carried. Without thinking, she swung back, her good hand connecting with Celina¡¯s wless cheek in a resounding p.


    "You bitch!" Celina shrieked, lunging forward, nails wing at Eliana¡¯s hair.


    Eliana dodged, grabbing Celina¡¯s wrist, the two tumbling into a frenzy of pushes and pulls. Pots ttered to the floor, spices scattering like confetti as they grappled, breaths ragged, voices hurling insults. "Get off me!" Eliana yelled, her sling hampering her but not her resolve. The maid fled, screaming for help, as the fight escted into a whirlwind of drama.

 Chapter 47: Square One Again

    <h4>Chapter 47: Square One Again</h4>


    The home theater was dim, the glow from the frozen movie scene catching on Rafael Vexley¡¯s sharp features. Mia and Jack¡¯s rain-soaked dance was stuck mid-spin on the massive screen, the moment hanging in the air like an unfinished sentence. The smell of popcorn still lingered, faint and buttery, from the bowl cooling on the table beside him.


    Rafael leaned back into the plush leather couch, letting himself sink in, ying the part of the man who couldn¡¯t move or see. Ten minutes had passed since Eliana had left to grab more soda¡ªway too long for a quick kitchen run. His thoughts started to turn. What if she¡¯d tripped, her arm in that sling making her clumsy? What if she¡¯d dropped a ss, and it shattered across the marble like sharp little usations? The idea nagged at him, unsettling in a way he didn¡¯t like to admit.


    Rafael let out a sigh that sounded more annoyed than concerned, then pushed himself toward the wheelchair waiting at the edge of the room. His hands gripped the armrests, lifting himself into the seat with the smooth, practiced motion of someone who¡¯d done it a thousand times¡ªstill keeping up the act of being weak.


    He was about to roll out, the chair gliding quietly toward the door, when quick footsteps rushed in from the hall. ra appeared¡ªdark hair pulled into a neat bun, uniform still perfectly pressed even at thiste hour. She stopped in the doorway, chest rising fast, her kind eyes pulled tight with worry.


    "Mr. Vexley!" she eximed, her voice breathless, making sure to announce herself as she always did, respecting his blindness. "It¡¯s ra, sir. Oh, heavens, you need to know¡ªMiss Eliana and Miss Celina are fighting in the kitchen! It¡¯s chaos down there!"


    Rafael¡¯s steel-grey eyes, shed with fury. His jaw clenched, chiseled features hardening into a mask of controlled rage. "Fighting?" he repeated, his voice low and thunderous, like the rumble before a storm. Without another word, he propelled the wheelchair forward, wheels humming against the polished marble as he rolled swiftly toward the kitchen, his mind racing ahead to the scene of violence that awaited.


    The kitchen came into view, but instead of the calm hum it usually held, it pulsed with chaos¡ªsharp grunts, high-pitched shrieks, and the metallic ng of utensils hitting tile. Rafael stormed through the doorway, his presence cutting through the noise like a sudden shadow blotting out the sun.


    The scene was a storm in motion. Spicesy scattered across the floor, fine powders drifting in the air like strange winter snow. In the middle of it, Celina was on top of Eliana, all tangled fury¡ªher once-perfect blonde waves now a wild mane, eyes zing, nails shing like ws.


    Eliana, her warm brown skin gleaming with effort, fought back with every ounce of strength she could muster. Her good hand shoved, twisted, pushed¡ªanything to create space¡ªwhile the other arm, bound in a sling, dangled uselessly. But even hobbled, her determination was unshakable, burning hotter than the chaos around her.


    "What the hell is going on here?"


    Rafael¡¯s voice cracked through the chaos¡ªdeep, steady, and sharp enough to slice the frenzy clean in half. The sound hit like a st of ice water, jolting the room into stillness.


    Celina jerked back as if pulled by invisible strings, scrambling off Eliana. Her sequined top was twisted, one strap slipping off her shoulder, her chest rising and falling in ragged breaths.


    Eliana pressed herself against the counter, catching her bnce. Her eyes¡ªwide, fierce, and still burning¡ªlocked on Celina, though pain glimmered just beneath the surface. A fresh red welt zed across her cheek, the sting of Celina¡¯s earlier p written in skin.


    Rafael didn¡¯t turn his head toward Celina, maintaining his blind facade, but his tone dripped with ice. "Celina, why are you in my kitchen? How many times have I warned you¡ªand everyone in your family¡ªto stay out of my wing of the house? This is my space. Mine."


    Celina straightened, tossing her hair back with a dramatic ir, her blue eyes glistening with feigned tears. "Oh,e on, Rafael! You¡¯re my brother¡ªfamily! Is it a crime to visit? To check on you?" Her voice cracked artfully, sobs bubbling up as she pointed usingly at Eliana. "She attacked me! That little peasant came at me like a wild animal! I was just... just mixing some tea, and she lost it!"


    Eliana¡¯s lips parted, the words trembling on the edge of fury. Her long curls were a wild halo around her face, strands sticking where sweat had kissed her skin during the scuffle. She pushed off the counter, her slender frame quivering¡ªnot from fear, but from the rush of indignation coursing through her.


    "That¡¯s a lie, Rafael!" Her voice cracked through the air, raw and sharp. "She called me names¡ªtrash, a toy for you to use and toss aside! She pped me first! I was defending myself!" Her chest rose with each breath, the words tumbling out in a storm. "And besides... she wasn¡¯t mixing tea, she was¡ª"


    "Enough!" Rafael snapped, his sarcasm sharpening into a weapon. "Both of you, shut it. Celina, get out. Go back to your own wing of the mansion. Now."


    Celina¡¯s face contorted in fury, her entitled pout twisting into a snarl. She stomped her designer heel against the floor, the echo sharp and petnt. "Fine! But you¡¯ll regret this, siding with her over family!" With a final re at Eliana, she whirled and stormed out, her footsteps fading like a retreating tempest.


    Eliana turned to Rafael, her voice softening,ced with urgency. "Rafael, please, let me exin¡ª"


    But he was already wheeling away, his wheelchair turning sharply as anger propelled him out of the kitchen. The hallway blurred past him, opulent walls lined with abstract art that he could see perfectly but pretended not to. Eliana¡¯s lighter steps followed, hesitant yet persistent, her sneakers whispering against the floor.


    He rolled straight into his study, towards the massive oak desk dominating the center like a throne. The room smelled of aged paper and faint cigar smoke. Shelves lined with leather-bound books loomed around him, the dimmps spilling soft light over the intricate patterns of the Persian rug. Rafael eased into position behind the desk, his fingers curling around the armrests. He let his expression settle into calm control, masking the sharp focus behind his "unseeing" eyes.


    Eliana slipped in quietly behind him, closing the heavy door with a soft click. She stood there for a moment, her face shadowed by her emotions, before the words tumbled out in a rush of apology. "Rafael, I¡¯m so sorry. I shouldn¡¯t have engaged Miss Celina in a fight. It was wrong¡ªI know that. Please, forgive me."


    Rafael¡¯s head snapped up, his piercing eyes¡ªstill hidden in pretense¡ªburning with frustration. He mmed a fist on the desk, the sound reverberating like a gunshot. "Sorry? Eliana, I have a certain way I run this household. Order. Control. And you bring your... your trashy lifestyle into it? Couldn¡¯t you keep that outside these walls? Resorting to violence at every provocation? Fighting with Celina¡ªthat was the most stupid thing you could ever do in your life. I¡¯m disappointed in you. Deeply."


    Eliana¡¯s breath hitched, her brown eyes widening as if the words had pped her harder than any hand could. They pierced straight through the fragile hope she¡¯d been nursing all day, splintering it into pieces. Before Rafael, she had been a quieter version of herself¡ªcalm, contained, swallowing insults like they were bitter medicine she¡¯d grown used to. That silence had been her shield, but it was the kind that let knives slip through. And they had¡ªover and over¡ªeach betrayal cutting deeper than thest.


    She¡¯d promised herself she¡¯d never be that girl again. With nothing left but her voice, she had vowed to fight back, even if her opponent towered over her, even if the odds were stacked to crush her. She would stand her ground.


    But Rafael¡¯s outburstnded like a cruel echo from the past. <i>Trashy lifestyle. </i>The words clung to her like oil, thick and suffocating. She could feel the sting in her eyes, the burn in her throat. In moments like this, it was hard not to believe the ugly truth she¡¯d tried to outrun¡ªthat no matter how hard she fought, the world was always ready to remind her she could never truly win.


    She thought he¡¯d changed, that the man who¡¯dughed with her over popcorn had softened his edges. Foolish, she chided herself inwardly. Just a fool. She bit her lip, refusing to dignify his rage with a retort. Instead, she straightened her modest blouse, her voice steady but quiet. "I¡¯m sorry for fighting with your sister." With that, she turned and left the room, her steps measured, the door closing behind her with a finality that echoed in the silence.


    Rafael sat in silence, the storm inside him slowly ebbing, anger receding like a tide slipping back into the depths. In its ce came regret¡ªa feeling that had crept into his life with rming frequency ever since Eliana had stepped into it. It twisted in his gut, sharp and insistent. He dragged a hand through his dark, wavy hair, releasing a sigh that felt heavier than it should.


    What Eliana didn¡¯t know¡ªwhat he couldn¡¯t bring himself to say¡ªwas that her fire, her refusal to bow, had just painted a bright red target on her back. His stepmother, Mirabel, and her venomous brood thrived on stamping out threats. They would see Eliana as just another obstacle to crush, and they never missed their mark.


    That was the truth that haunted him: the fear of losing the only person who had managed to melt even the smallest corner of his frozen heart. And it wouldn¡¯t be fate or distance that took her away¡ªit would be the danger swirling unseen around them, a web of deceit he couldn¡¯t yet reveal to her without destroying everything he hadid out.


    The study felt colder now, every detail around him sharper, as if the room itself was holding its breath. Somewhere in the stillness, Rafael searched for a way to bridge the gap between them¡ªwithout tearing down the careful walls he¡¯d built to keep her and himself safe.

 Chapter 48: It Can’t Be

    <h4>Chapter 48: It Can¡¯t Be</h4>


    Celina Vexley mmed through the ornate double doors of the east wing, the echo of her sobs carrying down the marble hall like shards of ss skittering across stone. Inside of the mansion was cool and perfumed with faint notes of white roses, yet it only made the burn in her chest feel sharper. The crystal chandeliers glittered above, each delicate prism throwing flecks of light along the gilded frames on the walls, as if mocking her with their untouched perfection.


    Her designer handbag was clutched tight to her chest, almost like it was the only thing holding her together. ck streaks of mascara traced uneven paths down her flushed cheeks, her breath hitching as she stumbled forward. Her heels¡ªtoo high for the pace she was moving¡ªclicked in an uneven rhythm on the polished floor, the sound copsing into a muffled thud as she stepped into the plush carpet of the sitting room.


    The room was the kind of space no one dared to truly live in¡ªluxurious sofas that looked barely sat on, antique vases resting in ss cabs like museum pieces. And there, drapednguidly across a chaise longue, was her mother, Mirabel Vexley.


    Mirabel¡¯s silk blouse caught the warm light, a faint shimmer rolling with every slight movement. Her pearl ne rested against her corbone, each bead glinting like frozen drops of moonlight against her smooth brown skin. She took one unhurried sip of her chilled champagne before lowering the ss with a soft, deliberate clink, her manicured fingers barely making a sound. Then she arched one perfect brow, a slow, practiced gesture that held equal parts elegance and quiet judgment.


    "Celina, darling, what on earth is the matter?" Mirabel¡¯s voice was smooth as butter butced with impatience, her icy blue eyes¡ªcontacts that hid her natural brown¡ªnarrowing as she rose to her full,manding height. She smoothed her immactely styled bob, the strands catching the light like polished obsidian. "You¡¯re making a spectacle of yourself. Sit down andpose yourself before you ruin that mascara entirely."


    Celina copsed onto the nearest sofa, her body heaving with dramatic sobs. She fanned herself with one hand, the other gesturing wildly. "Oh, Mom! It¡¯s awful! That... that wretched girl, Eliana¡ªRafael¡¯s so-called caregiver¡ªshe assaulted me! Right there in his kitchen! I was just trying to be nice, mixing some tea, and she came at me like a feral cat! Scratched and shoved me!"


    Mirabel¡¯s expression shifted from mild annoyance to a flicker of intrigue, her lips pursing into a thin line. She crossed the room in measured steps, her heels clicking with authority. "Assaulted you? That little nobody? Tell me everything, Celina. From the beginning."


    Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, Celina straightened up, her voice pitching higher with each word, fueling the drama. "I went over to Rafael¡¯s wing¡ªjust to check on him, you know, family and all. And there she was, that peasant girl, acting like she owns the ce. I told her the truth¡ªthat she¡¯s nothing but trash, a toy for Rafael to y with until he gets bored. And she lost it! pped me first, Mom! Me! Then Rafael shows up, and do you know what he did? He sided with her! Told me to get out, like I was the intruder. His own sister!"


    Mirabel¡¯s face hardened, her elegant features twisting into a mask of fury. She paced the room, her silk skirt swishing like a whisper of impending storm. "Sided with her? Over you? That blind fool, he¡¯s always been a thorn in my flesh. But to let some low-ss caregivery hands on my daughter? Uneptable. He¡¯s forgetting who holds the real power in this family." Her voice dropped to a venomous hiss, eyes zing. "We¡¯ve tolerated his games long enough. This ends now."


    Celina nodded vigorously, her sobs subsiding into sniffles as she fed off her mother¡¯s rage. "Exactly! She¡¯s poisoning him against us. We have to do something, Mom. Make her pay."


    Mirabel whirled toward the door, her posture ramrod straight, exuding the cold authority of a queen dethroned but plotting her return. "Oh, we will. Come with me, darling. We¡¯re marching right over to his precious wing and demanding answers. No one touches a Vexley and gets away with it¡ªespecially not some street rat."


    Celina scrambled to her feet, a gleeful spark igniting in her eyes beneath the feigned hurt. "Yes! Let¡¯s show them who¡¯s in charge."


    They stormed out together, Mirabel leading the charge like a general on the battlefield, her heels echoing a battle drum through the mansion¡¯s vast halls. The east wing blurred into the central atrium, where grand staircases spiraled upward, and then into Rafael¡¯s secluded west wing. Servants scattered like leaves in the wind, whispering among themselves as the duo passed.


    Not even ten minutes had passed since Eliana stormed out of Rafael¡¯s study, but her pulse was still hammering as if she¡¯d run a mile. The words he¡¯d thrown at her¡ª"trashy lifestyle"¡ªclung to her like burrs, sharp and impossible to shake off. They hadn¡¯t just stung; they had cut deep, had sliced through her heart, reopening old wounds she thought she¡¯d bandaged.


    She shoved her bedroom door shut, the echo bouncing off the high ceilings, and began pacing across the soft carpet. The luxury under her feet felt almost insulting in that moment, as iffort itself were mocking her hurt. Her slender frame trembled with the effort of holding back tears, her warm brown eyes ssy with the ones she refused to let fall.


    Loose strands of her long ck hair tumbled forward, framing her face in messy waves, matching the whirlwind in her mind. "How could he say that?" she muttered under her breath, the words breaking on the edges of disbelief. She sank onto the edge of her bed, her shoulders folding in as if trying to shield her own heart.


    "After the day we had... after everything... I thought he finally understood me." Her voice was softer now, the fight draining from it, leaving only the ache. "I thought he really saw me."


    A sharp knock interrupted her turmoil. The door creaked open, revealing a young maid named L, her uniform crisp but her expression anxious. "Miss Eliana? There¡¯s... trouble downstairs. Celina¡¯s mother, Mrs. Vexley, she¡¯s in the living room, yelling for you and Mr. Rafael toe face her. She¡¯s causing quite a scene."


    Eliana sighed deeply, rubbing her temples. Of course. She had expected something like this¡ªthe entitled never let slights go unanswered. "I was stupid to think Celina would just slink away," she whispered, more to herself than to L. Rising with a resigned grace, she smoothed her modest blouse and jeans, the worn fabric a reminder of her roots. "Alright. Lead the way. Let¡¯s get this over with."


    L nodded nervously and guided her through the luxurious hallway, the air growing thicker with tension. Meanwhile, in his study, Rafael sat brooding behind the massive oak desk, regret gnawed at him, his eyes¡ªsharp and seeing¡ªstared unseeingly at the wall. He dragged a hand through his dark wavy hair, exhaling sharply. "Damn it, Eliana. I didn¡¯t mean..." His thoughts trailed off as another knock sounded.


    ra poked her head in, her face pale. "Mr. Vexley, sir? Mrs. Mirabel Vexley is here¡ªin the living room. She¡¯s... well, causing a scene. Demanding to see you and Miss Eliana. It¡¯s about Celina."


    Rafael¡¯s jaw tightened, his calcting mind racing. This was escting faster than he¡¯d anticipated. "Of course she is," he muttered sarcastically, wheeling his chair around with practiced ease. "Can¡¯t have a day without family drama. I¡¯ll handle it." He propelled himself out, determined to deescte before things spiraled further, his athletic build tense beneath the crisp designer shirt.


    But Eliana arrived first. She stepped into the sprawling living room, where floor-to-ceiling windows framed the twilight gardens, and crystal vases held wilting roses that seemed to echo the room¡¯s fragile peace. Mirabel stood in the center, arms crossed, hermanding presence dominating the space like a storm cloud. Celina hovered behind her, smirking triumphantly.


    Eliana stopped dead in her tracks, every muscle locking in ce. Her brown eyes widened, her mouth g, and the air in her lungs turned heavy and strange. The world seemed to tip sideways, voices fading to a dull hum as the truth hit her like a speeding truck.


    That face.


    Smooth brown skin. Regal posture. Eyes like winter.


    It was her.


    The woman who had walked out on Eliana and her father, Frank, leaving them to w through the dust of poverty while she chased a life lined with gold.


    Now she stood here as Mirabel Vexley¡ªthe untouchable queen of this empire.


    Eliana¡¯s heart pounded so loud it drowned the silence. Her lips parted, her voice cracked


    "Mama? No... it can¡¯t be."


    Celina pointed usingly, her voice shrill and victorious. "There she is, Mom! That¡¯s the one¡ªEliana, the caregiver. She¡¯s the peasant who assaulted me! Look at her, acting all innocent now."


    Mirabel¡¯s gaze locked onto Eliana, her expression a mix of disdain and curiosity. She moved forward, each step deliberate, her heels clicking like ticking bombs. Eliana saw it all in slow motion¡ªthe sway of Mirabel¡¯s pearls, the re of her nostrils, the ghost of a past life flickering in those eyes. All Eliana could think was: It¡¯s her. My mother. The one who left us broken, who chose gold over love. How? Why here, now?


    Before Eliana could process, before words could form, Mirabel reached her. "You darey hands on my daughter?" Mirabel snarled, her voice a whip crack. Her hand flew up, connecting with Eliana¡¯s cheek in a stinging p that echoed through the room. The impact sent Eliana staggering, her warm brown skin blooming red, tears springing unbidden to her eyes.


    And that was when Rafael wheeled into the doorway, his eyes widening in horror as he witnessed the blow. Time seemed to freeze, the air thick with betrayal, shock, and the unspoken secrets that bound them all in chains.

 Chapter 49: Unrecognized and Unrepentant

    <h4>Chapter 49: Unrecognized and Unrepentant</h4>


    Rafael¡¯s wheelchair moved smoothly across the polished marble, the faint hum of the wheels echoing in the heavy silence. He stopped squarely between Eliana and Mirabel Vexley, his presence a wall of defiance despite the chair that carried him. His grey eyes burned with anger, sharp and unyielding, locking on the woman who dared to strike Eliana.


    The room itself seemed to hold its breath. The roses in the crystal vases, once proud and fragrant, now sagged as if bowing to the tension pressing down on everything.


    Eliana stood motionless, shock rooting her to the spot. Her cheek still stung where Mirabel¡¯s hand hadnded, the heat of it spreading like a cruel reminder. Her wide brown eyes shimmered with disbelief and hurt, as if she couldn¡¯t quite process that the ghost she thought she¡¯d left buried in her past had just reached out and struck her in the present.


    Mirabel¡¯s towering figure loomed like a shadow from another life¡ªelegant, cold, and unshaken¡ªher presence a cruel mirror of the abandonment and betrayal Eliana had tried so hard to outrun.


    "Mirabel." Rafael¡¯s voice thundered through the room, deep andmanding, the kind of tone that left no room for misunderstanding. Anger simmered beneath every word, held back only by sheer restraint. "What the hell do you think you¡¯re doing? You storm into my house¡ªmy house¡ªlike some entitled tyrant, and then you have the audacity toy your hand on her? On my caregiver? Have youpletely lost your damn mind?"


    The words cracked through the silence like a whip, but Mirabel only tilted her chin, unshaken. Her cold blue eyes slid to him, narrowing into slits as she smoothed down the front of her silk blouse. The soft clink of her pearl ne echoed like an insult in the stillness, as if the violence she had justmitted was nothing more than an afterthought¡ªlike brushing away a fly.


    "Oh, Rafael, please," she drawled, her voice dripping with disdain. A cruel smile tugged at her painted lips. "Spare me the theatrics. You¡¯ve always had a ir for dramatics, but this¡ªthis righteous act¡ªit¡¯s almostughable."


    She turned sharply, her manicured finger stabbing toward Eliana, who flinched despite herself. Mirabel¡¯s eyes burned with venom. "Rafael, you took sides with this nobody," she spat, the wordnding like venom on the polished floor, "this pig who dared toy her hands on my daughter. Celina is a Vexley¡ªshe carries our blood, our name. And this¡ªthis filthy, low-born intruder¡ª" her words sharpened with each breath, "does not deserve to even stand in the same room, let alone breathe the same air."


    Her voice grew shriller, each usationced with poison. "She¡¯s nothing but a parasite,tching onto you, feeding off you, crawling her way into your life with her pathetic desperation. A street rat in a mansion no more, no less. And you let her disrespect Celina, you let her stand here as if she belongs? Are you serious Rafael?."


    She crossed her arms, her sneer widening. "Frankly, I should call the police this instant and have her dragged out for daring toy her grubby little hands on Celina. If anyone here should be humiliated, it¡¯s her."


    Eliana¡¯s world tilted on its axis, the words crashing over her like icy waves. Her mother¡ªher own mother¡ªstood there, hurling insults without a flicker of recognition in those cold eyes. How could her mother not recognize her? Eliana¡¯s mind raced back to the faded photographs her father, Frank, had kept hidden in a drawer, pulling them out on lonely nights to whisper stories of the woman who had abandoned them. Mirabel¡¯s face had been etched into Eliana¡¯s memory like a scar¡ªsmooth brown skin, regal posture, that same haughty tilt of the chin. But here, in the flesh, Mirabel saw only a stranger, a "low-born intruder." The irony twisted like a knife in Eliana¡¯s gut; the woman who had birthed her now spat venom at her as if she were dirt under her heels. Tears stung Eliana¡¯s eyes, but she bit her lip, refusing to let them fall. This couldn¡¯t be real. It had to be a nightmare, a cruel hallucination born from the day¡¯s emotional wreckage.


    "You¡¯re the one acting disgraceful, Mirabel," Rafael shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm, his athletic frame tensing in the wheelchair as if ready to spring. "Storming in here like a scorned harpy, pping someone who¡¯s done nothing but care for me while you¡¯ve schemed behind my back. You¡¯re the worst thing that ever happened to this family¡ª a venomous snake who slithered in after my mother¡¯s death, poisoning everything you touch. You¡¯ve turned my siblings into entitled puppets, and now you think you can waltz in and y judge and executioner? Get out before I have you thrown out."


    Mirabel¡¯s eyes shed with rage, herposure cracking like fine china. "How dare you speak to me that way, you blind, crippled ingrate!" She raised her hand, swift and vicious, aiming a p at Rafael¡¯s chiseled jaw. But Rafael was faster¡ªhis pretense of blindness and paralysis didn¡¯t extend to his reflexes. His strong hand shot up, catching her wrist in a vise-like grip. With a forceful shove, he pushed her back, sending her stumbling a few steps on her high heels, her silk skirt fluttering wildly.


    "Mom!" Celina shrieked, rushing forward with feigned horror, her morous makeup streaked from earlier crocodile tears. She clutched at Mirabel¡¯s arm, ring daggers at Rafael. "You assaulted her! How could you? She¡¯s your stepmother, for God¡¯s sake! You¡¯re nothing but a monster!"


    Rafael chuckled darkly, the sound devoid of humor, his piercing eyes fighting hard not to re at her as he wheeled back slightly. "Assaulted her? Please, Celina. Mirabel assaulted herself by showing up here uninvited, stirring up trouble like the drama queen she is. If anyone¡¯s the monster, it¡¯s the pair of you¡ªsneaking around, plotting for scraps of an inheritance you don¡¯t deserve. Now, take your hysterics elsewhere before I really lose my temper."


    Throughout the exchange, Eliana stood rooted to the spot, her slender frame trembling as she absorbed the raw hatred radiating from Rafael. It wasn¡¯t just anger; it was a deep-seated loathing, forged in years of betrayal and family secrets. His voice, usually so calcting and controlled, now thrummed with unbridled fury, his dark wavy hair disheveled from running his hand through it earlier. She could see the scars he hid so well¡ªthe loneliness, the suspicion¡ªcracking open in this moment. But her own mind was a whirlwind. This has to be a dream, she thought desperately, over and over, like a mantra. My mother, here, in this mansion of lies, not even knowing who I am. The room spun, the floor-to-ceiling windows blurring into streaks of twilight. Her legs buckled beneath her, knees hitting the marble with a thud that echoed like thunder in her ears. Darkness swallowed her whole as she fainted, her body crumpling in a heap.


    Rafael heard the soft gasp and the dull thump before his eyes could fully register it¡ªEliana copsing like a log. Panic surged through him, his heart mming against his ribs. "Eliana!" he bellowed, wheeling toward her with frantic speed. "ra! L! Get in here now! Call an ambnce¡ªhurry!"


    The maids burst into the room, faces pale with rm. ra knelt beside Eliana, checking her pulse, while L fumbled for her phone, dialing emergency services with shaking hands.


    Mirabel watched the scene unfold with a scoff, her lips curling in disdain as she adjusted her pearls. "Pathetic," she sneered, her voiceced with mock pity. "Fainting like some fragile flower. What a weak little thing. I swear on my life, I¡¯ll deal with her properly¡ª she¡¯ll regret ever crossing a Vexley." She grabbed Celina¡¯s arm, yanking her toward the door. "Come on, darling. We¡¯ve wasted enough time on this farce." The two stormed out, heels clicking like retreating gunfire, leaving a trail of whispered servant gossip in their wake.


    Two hourster, Eliana stirred in the crisp white sheets of a private hospital room, the sterile scent of antiseptic mingling with the faint beeps of monitors. Soft lighting created a gentle glow over the space, a far cry from the opulent chaos of the Vexley mansion. Her head throbbed, memories flooding back in disjointed fragments¡ªthe p, the recognition, the hatred. Rafael sat by her bedside, his wheelchair positioned close, his crisp designer suit rumpled from the wait. He had seen her eyelids flutter open moments ago, his sharp eyes catching the subtle shift, but he maintained his pretense of blindness, staring slightly off to the side as if lost in thought.


    "Rafael?" Eliana whispered hoarsely, her voice cracking as she pushed herself up on her elbows. Her honey eyes searched his face, the emotional storm brewing anew. She needed to alert him, to break the silence, even as her mind raced with ns to escape this tangled web forever.


    He turned his head toward her voice, feigning surprise, his expression softening with genuine concern. "Eliana? You¡¯re awake. Thank God. How are you feeling? The doctors said it was likely shock and exhaustion, but I was worried sick."


    She swallowed hard, forcing a weak smile that didn¡¯t reach her eyes. "I... I¡¯m okay, I think. Just a bit dizzy. What happened? I remember... everything spinning."


    Rafael reached out, his hand hovering near hers before gently taking it, his touch warm and reassuring despite the secrets he harbored. "You fainted right there in the living room. Scared the hell out of me. I¡¯m so sorry, Eliana¡ªfor Mirabel¡¯s unruly behavior, for the way she treated you. She¡¯s a viper, always has been. I should have protected you better from that madness."


    Eliana nodded absently, her mind elsewhere. His apology washed over her, but it couldn¡¯t drown out the roar in her head. Leave. I have to leave this house for good. The revtion about Mirabel, it was all too much. How could she stay in a ce where her own mother reigned as the enemy, unrecognized and unrepentant? "It¡¯s... it¡¯s not your fault, Rafael," she murmured, pulling her hand away subtly. "But I need time. To think."


    He tilted his head, his eyes searching the air near her face. "Time? Of course. Whatever you need. Just know I¡¯m here. We can talk about it when you¡¯re ready."


    But Eliana¡¯s thoughts were already plotting her exit, the emotional walls she¡¯d let crack now rebuilding stronger than ever. The room felt smaller, the beeps of the monitor like a countdown to her freedom.


    She had to leave Rafael Vexley¡¯s house and life for good.

 Chapter 50: The Claws of The Wicked

    <h4>Chapter 50: The ws of The Wicked</h4>


    The private hospital room was too quiet, the kind of quiet that sat heavily on your chest. Machines beeped in the background, steady but cold, like they were reminding Eliana she was still here. She sat propped up against the pillows, eyes fixed on the pale curtains swaying slightly under the hum of the air conditioning. The ce smelled sharp with antiseptic, softened only by the faint trace of roses from the diffuser Rafael had insisted on bringing in¡ªhis way of trying to make this ce less unbearable.


    Rafael sat in his wheelchair right beside her, leaning forward like he¡¯d been there for hours without moving. His expensive suit had long since lost its sharpness, creased from waiting, but he didn¡¯t seem to care. His eyes weren¡¯t fixed directly on Eliana¡ªstill ying into the illusion of blindness¡ªbut every muscle in his body was tuned to her, listening to her breaths, watching for the tiniest shift in her hands or shoulders.


    "Eliana," his voice was low, rough around the edges with worry, "you¡¯ve barely said a word since you woke up. Talk to me. What¡¯s going on in that head of yours?"


    She blinked slowly, dragging her attention back from the curtain to him. A small smile tugged at her lips, but it didn¡¯t reach her eyes. Her dark curls slipped down around her shoulders, stark against the thin white gown. "I¡¯m fine, Rafael. Really. Just tired." Her voice cracked just a little, betraying her. "The doctors said it¡¯s just shock. Nothing serious."


    He reached out, his hand finding hers with unerring precision, as if guided by instinct rather than sight. His touch was warm, reassuring, but Eliana felt a pang in her chest¡ªa mix of guilt and resolve. How could she tell him the truth? That the woman he¡¯d just shoved away was her mother, the one who¡¯d abandoned her years ago for the very wealth that now poisoned this family? "You¡¯re not fine," Rafael pressed, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand. "I can hear it in your voice. It¡¯s like you¡¯re a million miles away. Is it because of what happened with Mirabel? That viper¡¯s words... they cut deep, I know. But you don¡¯t have to carry that alone."


    Eliana swallowed hard, her throat tight. "Maybe... a little. She was so cruel, Rafael. The way she looked at me, like I was nothing. It just... brought up old memories, I guess." Her voice cracked slightly, and she pulled her hand away, tucking it under the nket. Old memories indeed¡ªthe abandonment, the poverty, the endless nights wondering why her mother had left. But now, seeing Mirabel in the flesh, elegant and icy, it was a knife twist she couldn¡¯t bear.


    Rafael nodded slowly, his chiseled jaw tightening. "I understand. More than you know. That woman¡¯s poison has seeped into every corner of my life. But listen to me, Eliana¡ªyou¡¯re stronger than her theatrics. You¡¯ve got a fire in you that she could never extinguish." He paused, then reached into his suit pocket for his phone, his fingers deft despite the act. "I¡¯m calling James. He¡¯ll handle the bills and get you discharged. You need rest, real rest, back at the mansion. But if you want space... just say the word."


    Before she could respond, he activated the voicemand on his phone. "Call James."


    The line connected almost immediately, James¡¯s efficient voice crackling through the speaker. "Mr. Vexley? Is everything alright? How¡¯s Miss Bet?"


    "She¡¯s awake, James, but still shaken," Rafael replied, his tone shifting to themanding CEO he was. "I need you here at the hospital. Take care of the bills¡ªmake sure it¡¯s all settled discreetly. And prepare for discharge. I¡¯ll be stepping out for a bit while you handle it."


    "Of course, sir. I¡¯m on my way. ETA ten minutes."


    Rafael ended the call and turned back to Eliana, his expression softening again. "James is reliable. He¡¯ll sort everything. You just focus on getting your strength back." He leaned in, as if to kiss her forehead, but hesitated, sensing her withdrawal. "I¡¯ll give you some time alone. Fresh air might clear my head too. I¡¯m heading to the garden¡¯s just outside¡ªI¡¯ll be back soon."


    Eliana nodded, her heart aching as she watched him wheel himself toward the door. "Okay. Thank you, Rafael. For everything."


    He paused at the threshold, his broad shoulders tense. "It¡¯s my fault anyway. No thanks needed. You¡¯re... important to me, Eliana. More than you realize." With that, he maneuvered out, the door clicking shut behind him.


    Eliana had no clue what he meant by thest bit, but she was too drained to bother asking.


    Rafael rolled himself down the hospital corridor, the harsh fluorescent lights buzzing overhead and stretching shadows across the floor. His chest felt tight, and not just from the air in the building¡ªit was Eliana. Something in her had changed. The warmth she usually carried, that quiet, stubborn smile that always kept her steady, was gone. She looked lost, almost hollow. He knew it had everything to do with Mirabel. That confrontation had been brutal¡ªwords sharp enough to draw blood¡ªand Eliana, with all her softness, had been dragged right into the middle of it.


    He needed to get out of that room. To breathe. To think.


    The hospital garden gave him that space. A small square of calm tucked between the walls, with roses pushing out their petals like they had something to prove, andvender bending in the breeze, sweetening the air. The fountain in the center bubbled quietly, scattering droplets that caught thete-afternoon sun. Rafael steered his chair toward it, stopping close enough to feel the cool mist on his skin. For a moment, he closed his eyes¡ªhis real eyes, the ones no one knew still worked¡ªand let himself pretend. Pretend he was just another man, just tired, just thinking.


    But quiet has a way of digging up what you try to bury. Memories pressed in, sharp and unwee. He couldn¡¯t stop his mind from going back. The first time Mirabel had tried to kill him¡ªit had been poison, hidden in the tea Mirabel had prepared for him. Days of pain, his body failing, his trust shattered. But the second time... that was worse. Because it wasn¡¯t just about survival. It was about betrayal. And betrayal, he realized, leaves a wound that never really closes.


    A few years ago, when Rafael was eighteen, his world was nothing but darkness. The car crash that stole his sight when he was nine had left him with a life that felt like one long night, a veil he could never lift. Back then, he depended on others for almost everything¡ªthings that once seemed so small, like finding the edge of a table or pouring a ss of water, suddenly felt impossible. His independence was gone, and it ate at him.


    That¡¯s when Ian showed up. He was Rafael¡¯s age, hired through some agency Mirabel had approved. On his first day, Ian¡¯sugh carried through the endless halls of the Vexley mansion, a sound so alive it almost didn¡¯t belong there.


    "Hey, Rafael," he¡¯d said brightly, guiding him to the breakfast table. "I¡¯m Ian. Don¡¯t worry, man¡ªI¡¯m not here to baby you. Think of me as your sidekick. We¡¯ll make this blindness thing a little less boring."


    Rafael had actuallyughed at that¡ªsomething he didn¡¯t do much back then. "Sidekick, huh? Just don¡¯t trip me on purpose. Tell me something real, Ian. Not the polished lies my family spins. What¡¯s the world like out there?"


    Ian didn¡¯t hesitate. He painted the world with words, filling Rafael¡¯s darkness with color. "The city¡¯s alive¡ªcars honking, skyscrapers wing at the clouds, vendors yelling about hot dogs that smell like heaven. And girls, man... there¡¯s this one at the coffee shop near my ce¡ªhair like fire, temper to match. You¡¯d like her. Feisty. Definitely your type."


    The two of them would talk for hours. Ian would describe sunsets Rafael couldn¡¯t see, teach him shortcuts with braille, or sneak contraband snacks into the mansion. One night in the library, Ian pressed something into his hand. "Here¡ªtry this chocte bar. It¡¯s got chili in it. Sweet and spicy, like life¡¯s supposed to be."


    Somewhere in thosete-night talks, Rafael found himself opening up. "You¡¯re the only one who doesn¡¯t treat me like a broken toy," he admitted quietly. "Everyone else... it feels like they¡¯re just waiting for me to fade out. But you¡ªyou¡¯re different. You¡¯re a friend. My best friend."


    "Yeah, man," Ian said softly, his voice carrying that easy warmth. "Best friends. We¡¯ll get through this darkness together."


    Eliana reminded Rafael of Ian¡ªso much it hurt. That same gentleness, that quiet resilience. But he knew how quickly Mirabel could take something pure and twist it into something unrecognizable. He¡¯d lived it once before, and the memory never stopped bleeding.


    The change in Ian hade like a slow frost. At first, it was barely there¡ªaugh that no longer rang as brightly, conversations that ended too quickly. One night, as Ian guided him to bed, Rafael finally asked, his voice breaking under the weight of worry.


    "Ian, what¡¯s happening to you? You¡¯ve been so far awaytely. Did I do something? Talk to me. We¡¯re friends... aren¡¯t we?"


    The answer came back hollow. "Nothing¡¯s wrong, Mr. Vexley. I¡¯m just doing my job. Employer and employee¡ªthat¡¯s all."


    The title sliced through Rafael¡¯s heart. "Mr. Vexley? Since when? Ian, please. If something¡¯s wrong, tell me. We can fix it."


    But Ian shut the door on him with a simple, final reply. "Nothing¡¯s wrong, sir. Goodnight."


    After that, their days felt like ash¡ªempty routines, the bond between them crumbling into silence. And then came the day that scarred Rafael forever.


    It was supposed to be routine¡ªjust another hair wash day. A small thing, but one Rafael had always hated. Blindness had turned it into a ritual of humiliation, stripping him of control, forcing him to lean on someone else. He¡¯d tried doing it himself once; the mess that followed had been enough to remind him why he couldn¡¯t. Ian had handed Rafael tea first¡ªwarm, soothing, meant to quiet his nerves. Rafael drank, grateful, letting the bitter calm settle into his chest. And now here he was again, palms braced against the cold marble sink, shoulders bare, vulnerable. Exposed. Waiting. Trusting.


    "Ready?" Ian¡¯s voice was t, stripped of warmth. The faucet hissed, filling the basin.


    "Yeah," Rafael sighed, leaning forward. "Let¡¯s just get it over with."


    But then¡ªit happened. The betrayal. Swift, brutal, without warning.


    Ian¡¯s hands, which only moments ago had been gentle,thering soap through Rafael¡¯s hair with practiced ease, suddenly shifted. Fingers that once steadied him became iron shackles, shoving his head down, merciless, into the basin filled with water.


    The shock of icy water mmed into Rafael¡¯s face, flooding his nose, his mouth, burning down into his lungs. His Instinct screamed for air. He thrashed, legs jerking against the tiled floor, hands wing at Ian¡¯s arms. His voice broke into muffled cries, choking, sputtering¡ª"Stop! Ian!"¡ªbut the water drowned the words before they could escape.


    Terror tore through him like wildfire. His body, usually sharp with strength, felt heavy, slow, uncooperative. His muscles buckled as if wrapped in lead. A dizzy haze spun the edges of his vision, ck creeping in like ink spilled across paper. And then, amidst the chaos, a single truth pierced through the fog:


    The tea Ian had served him earlier was making Rafael weaker than normal.


    The bitter aftertaste he had ignored, the strange warmth in his veins¡ªit hadn¡¯t been fatigue, it hadn¡¯t been weakness. It was poison. Drugged. Betrayed.


    And the worst part¡ªthe hands pinning him down were the same ones he had trusted most..


    He iled, knocking bottles to the floor, but Ian¡¯s grip was iron. "I¡¯m sorry," Ian whispered, his voice trembling¡ªbut he didn¡¯t let go.


    The water burned his lungs, and the darkness¡ªhis constant prison¡ªclosed in tighter, suffocating him until nothing remained.


    When Rafael opened his eyes again, it was two weekster in a hospital bed. Tubes in his arms. Machines keeping him tethered to life. He had nearly drowned. And Ian was gone.


    What Ian left behind was worse than his absence. A voice note, hidden in Rafael¡¯s phone, in a folder only Rafael would ever search. Rafael listened in silence, each word another knife.


    "Rafael... God, I¡¯m so sorry." Ian¡¯s voice cracked with grief. "Mirabel made me do it. She threatened my sister¡ªsaid she¡¯d kill her if I didn¡¯t... if I didn¡¯t end you. I didn¡¯t want to. You were my friend. My best friend. Forgive me... please."


    Tears he couldn¡¯t even see slipped down his face as he listened, over and over, until he buried the note deep in his vaults. What could he do then? He had been nothing but a blind, broken teenager, powerless against Mirabel¡¯s empire. But that betrayal carved something permanent in him. It was the day he stopped being helpless. It was the day his weakness became his weapon.


    The memory dissolved, but its ache lingered. Rafael found himself back in the garden, the fountain whispering beside him, the roses painted gold by the setting sun. And all he could think about was Eliana.


    What if Mirabel set her sights on Eliana next? What if she twisted Eliana¡¯s kindness the way she had twisted Ian¡¯s, turning her warmth into a de aimed straight at him? The image crushed him¡ªEliana¡¯s hopeful smile hollowing into coldness, her loyalty poisoned into betrayal.


    "No," he whispered fiercely, gripping the arms of his chair until his hands shook. "I won¡¯t let her. Mirabel won¡¯t destroy Eliana the way she destroyed Ian."


    He had spent four years weaving his¡ªevidence, schemes, traps waiting to close around Mirabel. But until that day came, she was still dangerous. Too dangerous. And Eliana... Eliana had to be kept away, even if it meant Rafael had to be very cruel.


    With a heavy breath, Rafael turned his chair back toward the hospital, his decision settling inside him like cold steel. For her safety, for what was left of his own fragile heart, Rafael had to let Eliana go.


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