Chapter 148
The black luxury sedan sliced through the evening like a shadow fleeing from its own darkness, its tires humming urgently against the asphalt. The time read 6:45 PM on the car’s dash board. Inside, Rafael Vexley sat rigid in the back seat, his tall frame coiled with tension beneath the crisp lines of his designer suit. His grey eyes, sharp and piercing, stared unseeing at the blurred cityscape whipping past the tinted windows. Marc, the loyal driver with his broad shoulders and steady gaze, navigated the winding roads with expert precision, shaving minutes off the journey. The hospital was thirty miles away, but under Marc’s determined grip on the wheel, they covered it in exactly twenty-eight minutes, the engine’s low growl a constant underscore to Rafael’s mounting dread.
As the sedan pulled into the glowing entrance of Jackson’s Hospital, its halogen lights brightly spilled across the parking lot, Marc killed the engine with a soft click. He glanced back at his boss, concern etching lines into his weathered face. “We’re here, Mr. Vexley. Let me get the chair p>
Rafael nodded faintly, his voice a hoarse whisper. “Thank you, Marc. Just… hurry p>
Marc stepped out into the cool night air, the faint scent of rain and antiseptic mingling as he unfolded the wheelchair from the trunk. He moved with the gentle efficiency of a man who’d performed this ritual countless times, though tonight, the weight of urgency made his hands tremble slightly. Helping Rafael into the chair, he adjusted the footrests, ensuring the illusion of paralysis held firm. “You okay, boss? You look like you’ve seen a ghost p>
Rafael’s chiseled jaw tightened, his dark wavy hair falling slightly over his forehead. “Worse than that, Marc. Far worse. Stay with the car—I’ll call if I need you p>
Just as Marc wheeled Rafael toward the automatic doors, a familiar figure burst from the shadows of the parking lot—James, his face ashen and slick with sweat despite the chill. He had arrived mere moments after them, his own car screeching to a halt nearby. James looked like a man on the edge of collapse, his usually neat suit rumpled, his eyes wide with a worry that bordered on sickness. Internally, he was a storm of silent prayers: ’Please, God, let her be alive. It was me—I called her out that day. If she’s gone because of my mistake… I can’t bear it.’ His heart pounded like a drum in his chest, guilt twisting like a knife.
“Mr. Vexley!” James called out, rushing forward, his voice cracking with emotion. He fell into step beside the wheelchair, his hands fidgeting nervously. “I came as soon as I ended our call. It’s not her. It simply can’t be Eliana p>
Rafael’s face was pale as moonlight, a ghostly pallor that drained all color from his handsome features. Guilt, sadness, and a raw heartache radiated from him like heat from a dying fire. He gripped the arms of his wheelchair so tightly his fingers hurt, his mind a whirlwind of pleas to a God he wasn’t sure he believed in. ’If you’re real,’ he begged silently, ’give me this one miracle. Let her be alive. I’ll atone for everything—the accusations, the cruelty, the walls I built around my heart. I’ll let her speak, hear her out before I leap to conclusions. I’ll love her with every fiber of my being, and our baby… God, our child. I’ll cherish them both, pour everything I have into making it right. Please, just one second chance p>
His voice, when he spoke, was rough, a whisper, laced with desperation. “I don’t know, James. But if it’s her… if we’ve lost her He trailed off, unable to voice the horror clawing at his soul.
James swallowed hard, his own voice trembling. “We’ll find out. Together. She’s strong, Mr. Vexley. If anyone can pull through, it’s Eliana p>
The hospital doors whooshed open, enveloping them in the sterile hum of fluorescent lights and the distant beeps of monitors. The lobby was a blur of white walls, scuffed linoleum floors, and the faint metallic tang of disinfectant. Nurses hurried past with clipboards, their scrubs swishing softly, while a few weary visitors slumped in plastic chairs, clutching coffee cups like lifelines.
James surged ahead to the front desk, his shoes squeaking on the floor as he leaned over the counter, his face urgent. Rafael followed in his wheelchair, pushing himself forward, pressing hard on the chair’s control buttons, his heart thundering in his ears. Trailing a few paces behind, having arrived in their cherry-red convertible just minutes after Rafael’s sedan, were Sarai and Bianca Monroe. The sisters glided in with an air of elegant concern, their designer outfits clashing with the hospital’s utilitarian drabness. Bianca’s glossy black hair pulled into a high ponytail, swayed like a pendulum, while Sarai’s diamond earrings caught the light, sparkling coldly.
“Oh, Rafael, darling,” Bianca cooed as they caught up, her voice dripping with false sympathy, her sharp green eyes scanning the scene. She placed a manicured hand on his shoulder, her touch light but possessive. “We couldn’t just stay behind. We’re here for Eliana and you, through thick and thin. Like family p>
Sarai nodded, her fierce beauty softened by a practiced pout, though her light brown skin flushed with hidden excitement. “Absolutely, sis. We stick together. What if it’s really Eliana? We’d all be devastated p>
Rafael shrugged off Bianca’s hand with a sharp motion, his sarcasm biting through his grief. “Devastated? Spare me the theatrics, ladies. If you must hover, do it quietly p>
James, ignoring the exchange, addressed the nurse at the desk—a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a name tag reading “Nurse Patricia.” She looked up from her computer, her expression professional yet compassionate. “Yes, how can I help you p>
James leaned in, his voice urgent and laced with fear. “We’re looking for information on a patient—Eliana Bennett. Was she involved in an accident on Elm and Broad? The main road, about six days ago? We heard the victim was brought in by a Mr. Henry Jackson. Please, is she here? Is she okay p>
Nurse Patricia’s fingers hovered over her keyboard, her brow furrowing as she began to type. She opened her mouth to respond, her voice starting softly, “Well, let me check the records p>
But before she could continue, another nurse—a younger woman with a brisk stride and a clipboard tucked under her arm—hurried up, her face flushed. “Patricia! You’re needed in emergency, stat! Code blue in room 204 p>
Nurse Patricia blinked, nodding quickly. “Right away. Excuse me,” she said to the group, rising from her chair and dashing off down the hall, her footsteps echoing faintly.
The new nurse slid into the vacated seat with seamless efficiency, her name tag glinting under the lights: “Nurse Reyes.” She was sharp-featured, with dark hair tied back and eyes that held a knowing glint as they flicked toward Rafael. It was subtle—a brief, almost conspiratorial glance that no one else caught amid the tension. She turned her attention to James, her fingers dancing over the keyboard in a flurry of typing, though in truth, she never opened a single file. The screen reflected only the glow of an idle desktop, but to the anxious group, it looked like diligent searching.
“Alright,” Nurse Reyes said after a dramatic pause, her voice steady and matter-of-fact, laced with a hint of regret. “Eliana Bennett… yes, I have the details here. She was admitted six days ago after the accident on Elm and Broad, brought in by Mr. Henry Jackson p>
James’s breath hitched, hope flickering in his eyes. “And? How is she? Can we see her p>
Rafael leaned forward in his chair, his steel eyes wide behind the facade, his hands trembling. “Please… tell us she’s alive p>
Sarai and Bianca exchanged a quick glance, their lips twitching with suppressed glee, though they masked it with widened eyes and quivering chins.
Nurse Reyes sighed deeply, folding her hands on the desk as if delivering grave news. “I’m so sorry to tell you this. Ms. Bennett passed away yesterday. Complications from her injuries—internal bleeding that we couldn’t control. Her body was cremated this morning. There’s nothing left… no arrangements to view p>
The words hung in the air like a death knell, the lobby’s hum fading into a deafening silence. Rafael’s heart plummeted, a void opening in his chest that sucked the air from his lungs. His already pale face drained to an ghostly white, as if all the blood had fled his body. Silent tears welled in his piercing eyes, spilling over without a sound, tracing hot paths down his chiseled cheeks. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move—guilt crashed over him like a ocean waves, memories of Eliana’s warm skin, her expressive honey-brown eyes, her hopeful smile flashing before him. ’No… not her. Not like this.’ The promises he’d made to God echoed mockingly in his mind, shattered before they could take root.
James staggered back a step, his face crumpling. “Dead? Cremated? But… but that can’t be right. I just… oh God, Eliana.” His voice broke, tears pricking his own eyes as his internal prayers turned to ashes.
Sarai let out a dramatic sob, burying her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking—though if one looked closely, the curve of her full lips hinted at a smirk. “Oh no! Poor Eliana! How could this happen? She was so… so sweet.” Her voice muffled, but internally, she reveled: Success! That naive little thing is gone for good.
Bianca joined in, dabbing at her dry eyes with a silk handkerchief, her laughter disguised as hiccuping cries. “It’s tragic, absolutely tragic. We were all so close. Rafael, darling, how will you ever cope?” Her words dripped with faux concern, but her green eyes sparkled with triumph, the sisters’ wicked bond unbreakable. ’Two peas in a pod,’ she thought, ’and now the pod is ours p>
Rafael’s tears continued to fall, unchecked and silent, his world fracturing into irreparable pieces. The hospital lobby blurred around him, the weight of loss too much to bare, like chains he could never escape.