Chapter 109
The glass doors of Vexley Enterprises slammed shut behind her with a final, echoing thud—a sound that felt less like dismissal and more like judgment. A verdict. Eliana stumbled as the security guards released her, their grip still lingering in the bruises on her arms. They had hauled her out as though she were an intruder, a trespasser with no name or dignity, and discarded her on the concrete like something unworthy of the empire behind those polished doors.
Her knees struck the pavement first. The asphalt bit into her skin, cruel and unyielding, and the sting flared instantly, hot and sharp. Her palms followed, scraping raw against the rough ground, leaving thin trails of blood that smeared across her skin like fresh ink. For a moment, the busy world around her blurred—the honking taxis, the chattering strangers brushing past, the towering skyscrapers that seemed to close in above her like indifferent giants. Her body shook with sobs she couldn’t control, each breath hitching, shallow and jagged, as if even the air was punishing her.
Henry Jackson had been pacing the marble lobby like a restless storm barely contained, his jaw tight, his fists clenching and unclenching as if he could sense something was about to snap. The instant he saw her collapse outside, he moved—no hesitation, no thought, just motion.
“Eliana!” His voice cut through the noise of the street, rough with panic. People turned their heads, startled, but Henry didn’t notice. He was already pushing through the crowd, his tall, broad frame commanding space, his eyes locked on her fragile figure crumpled on the ground.
He dropped beside her, his expensive coat brushing the dirty sidewalk without a second thought. Up close, the sight of her unraveled him. Her brown eyes—once steady, calm, always the quiet anchor in chaos—were now swollen, red, and drowning in tears. Her cheeks glistened, streaked with despair, and her lips trembled as if words had betrayed her and abandoned her in this moment.
“Oh God, Eliana Henry’s voice broke into a whisper, raw and guttural. His hands shook as they found her shoulders, as if he feared even touching her might cause her to shatter completely. Then he swept her into his arms with sudden, desperate certainty, cradling her as though he could shield her from the entire world pressing down on her. She felt unbearably light against him, fragile in a way that made his chest ache.
Her head fell against his shoulder, black hair spilling over him like dark silk. He could smell her blood—iron and salt, sharp against the familiar warmth of his sandalwood cologne. The scent rattled him, igniting both fury and fear in equal measure.
“Shh, I’ve got you,” he murmured, his lips close to her temple, his words both a promise and a plea. “I’ve got you, Eliana. Just stay with me p>
Her fingers clung weakly to his shirt, staining the crisp white fabric with smears of red. “H-Henry… it hurts Her voice cracked like glass under strain, dissolving into hiccupped sobs that tore through him. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck as though hiding from the world, searching for safety in the only place she trusted.
Henry didn’t wait. He carried her towards the parking lot, weaving through onlookers, his strides unbroken by gossips and eyes tracking his every move. His SUV sat a few meters away, and he reached it like a man possessed, pulling open the door and lowering her gently into the passenger seat.
“Stay with me, okay? Just… just breathe.” His voice was steadier now, but his hands betrayed him—urgent, trembling as they swept over her arms and legs, searching for the worst of her wounds. He rolled up her skirt just enough to check the damage to her knees, his jaw tightening at the sight of the torn skin, the stockings clinging wetly to blood. Dark welts marred her forearms where the guards’ hands had held her too tight, fingerprints branded in angry red.
“Damn them,” he muttered, his chest heaving. His fingertips hovered over her bruises as if afraid touching her might make them worse. “They had no right. None p>
His eyes flicked up to hers again—pleading, furious, afraid all at once. “Tell me where it hurts the most. Eliana, does it hurt here?” He pressed gently against her abdomen, terrified of hidden injuries, his voice low and urgent.
Eliana shook her head weakly, but her cries wouldn’t stop, echoing in the confined space of the car like a heartbroken symphony. “I-I tried… he wouldn’t listen… oh God, Henry, what if I lose the baby?” Her voice broke, her body shaking as if the weight of the world had finally crushed her resilient spirit.
Henry’s jaw clenched, a storm of rage brewing behind his reserved facade. He wanted to march back into that building and confront Rafael Vexley himself—the cold, calculating billionaire who had orchestrated this nightmare. But yelling wouldn’t help now; Eliana needed him calm. “We’re getting out of here,” he said firmly, slamming her door shut and sliding into the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life, and he peeled away from the curb, weaving through the city traffic with a focus that belied his inner turmoil. “I’m taking you to my family’s hospital. They’ll fix you up. Just breathe, Eliana. In and out p>
The drive felt eternal, the city’s skyline blurring into a gray haze as Eliana’s sobs subsided into quiet whimpers. Henry glanced at her every few seconds, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles whitened. “Hang in there. We’re almost there p>
At the Jackson Family Hospital, a pristine facility funded by his wealthy lineage, Henry burst through the emergency doors with Eliana in his arms again. “Get me a doctor—now! She’s pregnant and injured!” Nurses swarmed them, wheeling over a gurney as Henry reluctantly set her down.
In the examination room, under the harsh fluorescent lights, Dr. Helena Ramirez—a seasoned physician with kind eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor—assessed Eliana thoroughly. She probed the scrapes on her hands and knees, cleaning them with antiseptic that stung like fire, making Eliana wince. “These are superficial, but we’ll bandage them up. Now, let’s check those arms—red lines from rough handling, I see. Any pain in your abdomen, miss p>
Eliana sat motionless on the exam table, her gaze fixed on the sterile white wall as if it might somehow offer her an escape. The hopeful smile she had carried that morning—fragile but bright—was gone, replaced by a numb, vacant expression. The tears had stopped, yet the hollowness on her face spoke louder than any sob. It was the look of someone whose spirit had stepped outside her body, hovering in a place where fear and disbelief collided.
Henry stood close, his tone firm but laced with worry as he addressed the doctor.
“She’s about three weeks pregnant,” he explained, carefully recounting the fall. “She pushed by some men onto the sidewalk, hit hard. Scraped her palms, knees… I didn’t notice any other bleeding. But she’s been under a lot of emotional stress these past days p>
Dr. Ramirez nodded, her expression both professional and kind as she turned to the monitor. With practiced calm, she guided the probe across Eliana’s abdomen, the cold gel making her flinch faintly. Silence thickened in the room until a grainy black-and-white image appeared on the screen.
“There,” she said softly, pointing. “That’s the gestational sac. It’s still very early, so we wouldn’t expect a heartbeat yet. But everything looks as it should for three weeks p>
Henry let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. Relief flickered across his features—subtle, but real.
“The pregnancy is viable,” Dr. Ramirez continued, his voice measured. “There are no signs of internal bleeding or trauma. That’s good news. But Miss Bennett, this is a delicate stage. Stress, falls, even poor rest can put you at risk. You need to treat yourself gently—eat well, stay hydrated, and avoid anything that could harm you or the baby p>
Her words hung in the air like a warning and a lifeline all at once. Eliana blinked, finally dragging her eyes from the wall to the blurry outline on the monitor. For a flitting moment, the emptiness cracked. There, in the quiet hum of the machine, was the faint beginning of life—too small to understand, too fragile to name, but enough to tether her back—even for a moment—to the world.
Henry answered the follow-up questions seamlessly, detailing the incident without naming names, his ambition as an aspiring doctor shining through in his precise recollections. Eliana remained silent, her expressive eyes distant, as if replaying the betrayal on an endless loop.
Once the doctor and nurses left, their footsteps fading down the sterile hallway, Henry pulled a chair close to the hospital bed and sat beside her. He took her bandaged hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring. “Eliana, I’m so sorry. I pushed you to go see him, to make amends. I thought… I thought Rafael was a reasonable man. That no matter how angry he was, he wouldn’t go this far—hurting you like this. I was wrong. Completely wrong p>
Eliana blinked, finally turning her gaze to him. Her voice was soft, defensive, laced with the remnants of her naive hope. “Henry, it’s not his fault. He’s just… angry. Hurt. I disappeared on him, and then showed up after he found out who my mother was. He’ll calm down. I have to try again. I love him p>
Henry’s warm eyes hardened with stern resolve, though his tone remained gentle. “No, Eliana. Absolutely not. At least until you give birth to this baby, you shouldn’t go looking for him again. It’s too dangerous p>
Her heart sank like a stone in deep water, her full lips quivering. “But Henry, please… he didn’t mean it. He’s just hurt. I can explain p>