Chapter 150
The sterile hum of the hospital lobby faded into a distant echo as paramedics and nurses swiftly wheeled the unconscious Rafael Vexley through the double doors leading to the VIP wing. His tall frame slumped lifelessly in the wheelchair, his dark hair matted against his sweat-dampened forehead, and his chiseled jawline slack in defeat. The crisp designer suit that usually commanded respect now hung rumpled and disheveled, a stark contrast to the man who ruled empires from boardrooms. James, the ever loyal secretary and confidant, jogged alongside, his face etched with worry, tears still glistening on his cheeks from the devastating news of Eliana’s death. Behind them, Sarai and Bianca Monroe trailed like shadows, their high-heeled steps clicking sharply against the tiled floor, their elegant facades barely masking the undercurrent of glee.
“Move faster! He’s the CEO of Vexley Enterprises—treat him like it!” James barked at the medical team, his voice cracking with urgency. One nurse, a burly man with a stethoscope dangling from his neck, nodded briskly as they maneuvered Rafael into a private VIP room. The space was a far cry from the standard wards: plush leather couches lined the walls, soft ambient lighting created a warm glow over the king-sized hospital bed, and a large window overlooked the city skyline, now shrouded in the dim twilight of evening. They lifted Rafael onto the bed with practiced efficiency, hooking him up to monitors that beeped rhythmically, tracking his erratic heartbeat.
Sarai lingered in the doorway like a shadow that didn’t belong, her sharp green eyes flicking between Rafael’s motionless body and James, who stood watch like a silent sentinel. “Oh, poor Rafael,” she breathed at last, her voice syrupy with false pity. The gloss of her black hair caught the light, still perfectly styled despite the chaos that had swallowed the room.
Not a strand out of place. Not a hint of grief.
You’d never guess she’d just found out her childhood best friend was gone—cremated without a word to anyone. There were no tears, no tremor in her voice; instead, she looked strangely serene, almost radiant. Like someone who’d just been handed exactly what she wanted.
Sarai smoothed her designer blouse, adjusting it with practiced poise before stepping forward, the click of her heels echoing softly against the tiled floor. “He’ll need someone when he wakes,” she said, tilting her head with manufactured gentleness. “Bianca and I—we’re practically family now, after everything that’s happened with Eliana. It’s only right we stay p>
Bianca, ever the mastermind behind their polished deceit, gave a small approving smile. She didn’t need to speak to command attention; she never did. Her manicured fingers drummed lightly against the side of her purse, the rhythm steady, deliberate. When she finally spoke, her tone was velvet wrapped around steel.
“Of course, darling,” Bianca purred, her light brown skin catching the warm gleam of the lamp as she leaned closer. “Let us stay. He shouldn’t be alone. I can hold his hand, whisper something soft… something to ease the pain. He’s so fragile right now—surely, it’s the least we can do p>
James watched her closely. The slight flush on her cheeks wasn’t sympathy—it was hunger. Her eyes gleamed with calculation, lips curving with just a touch too much eagerness. He knew that look all too well. Bianca wasn’t here to comfort Rafael.
She was circling him.
Like a lioness, patient and poised, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
James stepped forward, planting himself between the sisters and the bed like a wall of steel. His broad shoulders squared, his stance unyielding. He swiped the back of his hand across his eyes—grief, exhaustion, and anger blending in one raw motion—but when he looked at them again, his gaze had hardened.
That’s when he saw it.
The flicker of something ugly beneath their painted sadness—the quick, knowing glances traded between them, the faint curl of Sarai’s lips as she fought to hide a smirk. Their eyes glistened, not with tears, but with something close to satisfaction. It was subtle, but unmistakable.
They were happy.
Eliana’s death was their twisted victory.
She’d been the thorn in their side from the start—the poor girl who had dared to rise above her place, who had stolen hearts that were never meant for her. The heart of Jason and then Rafael’s. That alone had sealed her fate in their eyes.
James’s stomach churned. He could almost taste the bitterness rising in his throat. These women were poison wrapped in silk, and he knew better than to underestimate them. He’d seen what Bianca and Sarai could do when opportunity presented itself.
No, he couldn’t let them near Rafael. Not tonight. Not ever.
Not when his boss’s deepest secret—his pretended blindness and paralysis—hung by the thinnest thread. One careless move, one overheard whisper, and everything would collapse. If they ever discovered the truth, they wouldn’t hesitate to use it. They’d twist it, exploit it, and drag Rafael down until there was nothing left of the man he used to be.
James straightened, his jaw tight. Whatever it took, he’d keep them out. Even if he had to stand there all night, guarding Rafael from the snakes that called themselves saints.
“No,” James said firmly, his voice low but steady. “You’ve done enough ’comforting’ for one day. Mr. Vexley needs rest, not company. Please leave p>
Sarai’s eyes narrowed, the mask of refinement she always wore beginning to fracture. “Excuse me?” she hissed, her voice dripping venom beneath its polished tone. “And who exactly do you think you are p>
Her chin lifted slightly, defiance flashing in her green eyes. The calm, elegant posture she prided herself on was crumbling, revealing the steel—and spite—beneath. “You’re just his assistant, James. Just the help,” she spat, emphasizing each word like it left a bad taste in her mouth. “You don’t get to order us around. We’re his friends—Eliana’s friends, too. God rest her soul p>
She rested a manicured hand on her hip, her diamond earrings swinging in the low light, scattering reflections across the room like shards of accusation. “You can’t just chase us off like a couple of stray dogs,” she continued, her voice rising with indignant fury. “Rafael would want us here. He needs us. So I suggest you remember your place before you embarrass yourself further p>
To be continued p>