Chapter 94
The car wound through the city outskirts, finally pulling up to a sprawling estate that screamed opulence masking menace. It wasn’t Austin’s real home—that was a fortress buried deeper in secrecy—but a “business” property: a massive house with marble columns, a mechanic’s garage humming with activity, and hefty guards patrolling every corner like silent sentinels. James helped Rafael into his wheelchair, maintaining the charade, and they were escorted inside by two burly men who nodded respectfully.
Austin waited in his office, a room lined with dark wood panels and shelves of antique books that hid safes full of secrets. He rose from behind a massive oak desk, his frame as imposing as ever—broad shoulders, a scar tracing his jaw from some long-ago skirmish. “Rafael, my man,” he boomed, clasping Rafael’s hand firmly. “Wheelchair and all—still pushing back when the world tries to push you down, huh? Smart as ever p>
Rafael allowed a tight smile, his voice steady. “Some habits die hard, Austin. Thanks for handling this. Jason Asher—did he crack p>
Austin’s expression darkened as he poured two glasses of scotch, handing one to Rafael. He leaned against the desk, crossing his arms. “About that. My guys have been at him for hours. Beat him within an inch of his life—bruises, blood, the works. But the bastard’s sticking to his story like glue. Swears up and down he never ordered any kidnapping on your girl, Eliana. Claims he’s innocent as a lamb p>
Rafael’s grip tightened on the glass, his steel eyes narrowing behind the feigned cloudiness. “That’s bullshit. He’s lying. Jason’s been scheming from the start—cheating, manipulating. He has to be behind it. Let me talk to him myself. I’ll get the truth out p>
Austin studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Alright, Raf. But remember, this is my turf—no phones, no slip-ups. Follow me.” He gestured to James. “You too, quiet man. Stay close p>
Rafael wheeled after Austin, James trailing silently, his face impassive. They moved through the labyrinthine house, passing corridors lined with artwork that could fund a small nation. Hefty men stood at every turn—tattooed enforcers with eyes like hawks, nodding deferentially to Austin. The air grew thicker, laced with the faint metallic tang of oil from the adjacent garage where mechanics tinkered on armored vehicles. “Impressive setup,” Rafael remarked dryly as they descended a staircase. “Still paranoid about wiretaps p>
Austin laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that echoed off the walls. “Paranoid? Nah, just smart. In my line of work, one loose end and you’re done. Remember boarding school? Those pricks who bullied you—I handled a few after you left. Quietly p>
Rafael’s lips twitched. “I never asked for details. Probably for the best p>
They reached a reinforced door guarded by two stone-faced sentinels. Austin nodded, and they stepped aside. “In here,” he said, pushing it open. “Your boy’s waiting p>
The room was a stark contrast to the luxury above—a dimly lit chamber with concrete floors stained from years of “interrogations.” In the center, Jason Asher hung limply, his wrists bound above his head to a long metal rod spanning the ceiling. His once-golden-boy charm was shattered: blonde hair matted with sweat and blood, hazel eyes swollen shut, his gym-toned body bruised and battered, clothes torn and stained. He dangled like a broken puppet, breaths ragged and shallow.
A burly interrogator stood nearby, knuckles raw from his work. He glanced at Austin, who jerked his chin. “Wake him up, Rocco. Our guest wants a chat p>
Rocco grinned wickedly, cracking his knuckles before delivering a sharp punch to Jason’s gut. Jason gasped awake, his body jerking against the chains with a metallic rattle. “Ah! Please… no more,” he wheezed, his voice hoarse and broken.
Rocco leaned in, his face inches from Jason’s. “One more time, pretty boy. Why’d you try to kidnap Eliana Bennett? Spill it, or I’ll make sure you never walk straight again p>
Jason’s head lolled, tears mixing with the blood trickling from his split lip. “I… I didn’t! I swear on my life, I never ordered any kidnapping. Eliana… she’s my ex, yeah, but I wouldn’t… God, please believe me. I’m telling the truth p>
Austin crossed his arms, watching impassively. “See what I mean, Raf? Kid’s been singing the same tune all night. My guys have tried everything—fists, threats, even a little water play. Nada p>
Rafael wheeled closer, his face a mask of cold fury. “Jason,” he said, his voice slicing through the air like a sharp ice. “Look at me. You know who I am. Rafael Vexley. The man whose life you’ve been trying to upend. Confess. You plotted to take Eliana—your jealousy, your entitlement. Admit it, and maybe my friends here will go easy p>
Jason’s head lolled forward before he forced it up again, every movement dragging a wince from his battered frame. His swollen eyes struggled to focus, lids puffed and heavy, but recognition finally flickered through the haze of pain.
“Vexley?” His voice cracked, a hoarse whisper scraped raw. “It’s… it’s you p>
A bitter, broken laugh rattled in his chest. “The blind cripple she’s… shacking up with?” The words stumbled out, part defiance, part disbelief.
Then his bravado crumbled, and panic bled through. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, trembling. “This… this is about her, isn’t it? Eliana p>
He shook his head frantically, chains clinking as his wrists jerked. “No! I didn’t do it! Kidnap? That wasn’t me!” His words tumbled faster, desperate, unsteady. “I screwed up, yeah—I cheated on her, with Sarai. Stupid. The worst mistake I ever made.” His voice broke on the admission, shame threading through the fear.
“But hurt her?” His eyes glistened, wide with terror, pleading with whatever shred of mercy might be left in the room. “Never. I’d never touch her like that. I love her—God, I love her so much. Please His voice dropped to a desperate rasp, raw and shaking. “Please, just let me go. I swear, I don’t know anything. I don’t p>
Rocco glanced at Austin, who nodded. Another punch landed, this time to Jason’s ribs, eliciting a guttural cry. “Liar!” Rocco snarled. “Boss says you planned it. Details—now p>
Jason sobbed, his body trembling. “I’m not lying! Check my phones, my emails—nothing! I swear, it’s the truth p>
They continued the barrage—punches, slaps, questions hurled like weapons. Jason’s denials echoed, unwavering despite the pain. Rafael watched, confusion gnawing at his gut. Why wouldn’t he break? Jason was spoiled, narcissistic—not built for this. Yet here he was, clinging to innocence like a lifeline. Rafael’s mind raced, his emotional scars prickling. Was he wrong? No, impossible. Jason had to be guilty Eliana, Sarai and Bianca said so.
As the beating intensified, a faint beep cut through the chaos. James stiffened, pulling a small pager from his pocket—the only device Austin permitted, for emergencies. He scanned the message, his face paling slightly. Stepping to Rafael’s side, he leaned down, voice urgent but low. “Sir, something important’s come up. We need to talk—now p>
Rafael’s eyes flicked to him, a storm brewing. “What is it, James? This better be worth interrupting p>
But James’s expression said it all—trouble, the kind that could shatter everything.