Rafael’s face crumpled for a split second, the cold, calculating CEO mask cracking to reveal the lonely man beneath. He leaned back against the pillows, feigning the weakness of his ’disabled’ state, but his voice was urgent, laced with genuine plea. "Eliana, at least think about it. For your sake and the baby’s, if not for mine. Sleep on it. We can talk tomorrow."
She hesitated at the door, her hand on the handle, but didn’t turn back. Her shoulders slumped slightly, the emotional toll etching lines on her soft, heart-shaped face.
Rafael sighed, defeated for the mont, and nodded toward his loyal friend. "Jas, take her ho. Make sure she’s safe."
Jas nodded briskly, his deep voice rumbling with reluctant obedience. "Yes, sir. Co on, Miss Eliana. Let’s get you out of here."
The ride ho was a tense silence at first, the luxury car’s engine purring smoothly through the city streets as twilight painted the skyline in hues of orange and purple. Eliana stared out the window, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the leather seat, her mind a whirlwind of Rafael’s words. The baby bump felt heavier now, a constant reminder of the stakes. Jas glanced at her in the rearview mirror, his face softening with concern. He cleared his throat, breaking the quiet. "Miss Eliana, if I may... please think about what Mr. Vexley said. He’s a stubborn fool sotis—Lord knows how he treated you in the past was wrong, dead wrong. But I swear on my mother’s grave, he’s changed. Realized his mistakes. That man has suffered more than most could bear in a lifeti—betrayals from his own family, that crash that took his sight and the one that nearly took his legs. But these past few months without you? He’s been a wreck. Barely eating, snapping at everyone, staring at nothing like a ghost haunting his own mansion."
Eliana turned her head slowly, her honey eyes eting his in the mirror. A small, sad smile tugged at her lips, her voice kind but firm, carrying the resilience forged from years of learning to survive in a harsh world. "Jas, I appreciate you looking out for him—for us. You’re a good man. But I can’t trust Rafael with my heart again. Not after everything. Please, just drop the topic. I need ti to think about and the baby, not him."
Jas sighed, his shoulders deflating as he focused on the road. "Alright, miss. I won’t push. Just know, if you need anything..."
The car pulled up to Henry’s house. She stepped out, the cool evening breeze ruffling her curls, and waved goodbye to Jas before slipping inside. The familiar scent of ho—faint lavender from her shampoo and her father’s favorite soap and the earthy aroma of his herbal teas—wrapped around her like a comforting blanket.
Frank Bennett looked up from his nice armchair in the living room, his kind eyes lighting up behind his glasses. His fra, still a bit weakened by years of illness, seed to gain strength at the sight of her. "Eliana, my girl! You’re back. Co here, let hug you."
She crossed the room in quick strides, bending to embrace him gently, her arms wrapping around his thin shoulders. The warmth of his hug lted so of the tension from her body, and she pulled back with a genuine smile, her voice soft and affectionate. "Papa, it’s good to be ho. How are you feeling? Did you take your ds?"
Frank chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound that always made her feel safe. "Better now that you’re here. ds are down, don’t you worry. You look exhausted, though. Rough night?"
Eliana nodded, brushing off the question with a wave. "Sothing like that. Let make you so dinner. You hungry?"
His eyes twinkled with gratitude. "Starving. You’re an angel, you know that?"
She laughed lightly, the sound a brief spark of joy in her weary heart, and headed to the kitchen. The cozy space was breathtaking and hoy, with mismatched pots and bright curtains. She busied herself chopping vegetables—carrots, onions, potatoes— their crisp snaps punctuating the quiet. The sizzle of oil in the pan filled the air as she stirred in spices, the aroma of garlic and herbs wafting through the house. "Papa, is Henry back yet?" she called out.
Frank’s voice drifted from the living room, warm and casual. "Nah, not yet. That boy’s always running around. Probably chasing so late night studies."
Eliana smiled to herself, plating a hearty stew for him and setting aside a portion for Henry. "Well, dinner’s ready for you. I’ll keep his warm."
Frank shuffled in, taking the plate with trembling hands. "Slls divine, sweetheart. Eat with ?"
She shook her head gently. "In a bit. I need to freshen up first. Long day."
Upstairs in her room—a soft sanctuary frad by picture-filled walls, warm-toned posters, and a balcony that opened to a quiet, moonlit street—Eliana finally let herself unravel. She kicked off her heels, the sharp clatter echoing her exhaustion, and collapsed onto the king-sized bed Henry had insisted she deserved. The mattress dipped beneath her, familiar and steady, as if the world was giving her one small mont to breathe.
Her hand drifted to her belly, fingers tracing the gentle curve that sheltered her unborn child. A fragile smile touched her lips.
"We’ll be okay, little one," she whispered, voice trembling with hope she didn’t fully feel. "Just you and ."
The room humd with a brief silence—then her phone buzzed on the nightstand, its vibration cutting through the calm. An unknown number blinked across the screen.
Eliana didn’t hesitate. She was too tired, too drained to be cautious. She swiped to answer. "Hello?" she said softly, polite out of habit but carrying the weight of the day in her tone.
For a mont, all she heard was static, like the world inhaling.
Then a voice oozed through the speaker—smooth, cold, and sharp enough to cut.
"Hello, my little rabbit. Today must have been a very rough day for you... wasn’t it?"
Everything inside Eliana froze.
Her spine straightened, a chill clawing its way up her back as her heartbeat crashed violently against her ribs.
She knew that voice. She would’ve known it anywhere.
Mirabel Vexley.
And she had sohow gotten her number.
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