Chapter 158
The room erupted into chaos. Celina burst into tears, her mascara streaking as she wailed, “Stop it! Both of you! This is so embarrassing. Mom, if you care so much about this Eliana, why’d you leave her in the first place? And Dad, yelling isn’t helping p>
Caleb stood, his chair scraping back noisily. “Yeah, seriously. Mom’s gone full detective mode, hiring private investors left and right, and for what? Some sister we never knew? If she’s so important, why hide her? And Dad, chill. Your regrets aren’t news—we all know you picked Mom over Rafael. But harping on it every dinner? It’s exhausting p>
Mirabel sank back into her chair, her hands shaking as she poured herself a glass of wine, the liquid sloshing over the rim. “You all think this is easy for me?” Mirabel’s voice cracked, raw and trembling, though her eyes gleamed with controlled fury. “Do you have any idea what it’s like—carrying the weight of your own mistakes? I left Clara and Eliana behind because I couldn’t stand the poverty, the constant struggle just to survive. I thought I was choosing a better life.” She paused, her breath shaky, the emotion in her tone almost convincing. “But now… I see the damage I caused. Clara still hasn’t forgiven me. She’d rather spend her days in Rafael’s house, playing the helpful little angel, being treated like family—receiving the kind of love I could never give her. And it kills me to see that. Eliana deserves that same love. And no—” her gaze hardened as she cut off any protest, “I don’t care what any of you think. I will find her. Before it’s too late p>
But beneath the carefully crafted pain and trembling sincerity, Mirabel’s heart was cold. She didn’t care about Eliana’s love, or Clara’s forgiveness. What she cared about was control—keeping her perfect world from collapsing. The performance was necessary; the tears, the guilt, the trembling voice. They were all part of the act. Because if her family believed she was chasing redemption, they’d never suspect the truth—that she was really chasing power.
Charles shook his head, his stern expression crumbling into weary defeat. “Too late for what, Mirabel? Your conscience? Or is there more you’re not telling us? Another lie in your web? I regret it all—trusting you, marrying you, letting you manipulate me into forsaking my own son. Rafael needed a father, and I failed him because of you. Now, you’re chasing phantoms while our home burns p>
The argument dragged on into the night, voices overlapping in a symphony of accusations and defenses. Celina stormed out in a huff, slamming doors behind her, while Caleb retreated to his room, muttering about how the family drama was killing his vibe. Mirabel, undeterred, slipped away to her study, dialing yet another contact, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination. No one understood; no one could know that Eliana’s pregnancy threatened everything—the Vexley fortune, the power. She had to find her first and gain her love and alliance or get rid of her, before Rafael’s relentless search bore fruit.
A week later, as the city lights shimmered against the dusk, the scene shifted to the towering glass fortress of Vexley Enterprises, standing proud in the heart of the metropolis. The uppermost floor—the executive suite—was silent but for the faint hum of the air conditioning and the rhythmic click of Rafael’s shoes against the marble.
His office, a sprawling expanse of glass, steel, and understated opulence, overlooked the glittering skyline. Here, away from the watchful eyes of the board and the world, Rafael was himself—no longer the man confined to a wheelchair, no longer the image of fragility that the public pitied. The wheelchair sat abandoned in a shadowed corner, a relic of the deception he’d carefully orchestrated.
Now, he moved with purpose, his athletic frame cutting a striking figure in the soft light spilling through the panoramic windows. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, his tie loosened, the edge in his posture unmistakable. He paced behind his massive mahogany desk, the faint gleam of his cufflinks catching the light as his sharp eyes scanned the data flickering across his computer screen.
The building was nearly deserted at this hour, the corridors outside dark and silent. Only Rafael remained, restless energy radiating off him as he pieced together the fragments of a puzzle no one but James knew existed. The calm of the office was deceptive—beneath it simmered a storm.
The door burst open without a knock, and James rushed in, his face flushed with triumph, a tablet clutched in his hand. His usually impeccable suit was rumpled, tie askew, as if he’d sprinted from the parking garage. “Rafael, I’ve got it. Finally, after hitting every dead end imaginable—I found her. Eliana. I know where she is p>
Rafael froze mid-stride, his heart slamming against his ribs like a caged animal. He whirled around, his chiseled jaw tightening, those piercing eyes locking onto James with a mix of hope and longing. “James? What… how? Tell me everything. Now p>
James closed the door behind him, leaning against it as he caught his breath, his voice breathless with excitement. “It wasn’t easy, sir. Henry’s family wealth was like a fortress—fake IPs, encrypted communications, the works. But I called in every favor, hacked through layers of misdirection. Turns out, Eliana didn’t just vanish stateside. She relocated. With Henry Jackson and her father. They’re in the UK, sir. London, to be precise. A quiet suburb, under the radar. I’ve got coordinates, surveillance confirms it—Eliana’s there, safe but hidden p>
Rafael’s hands clenched into fists, a whirlwind of emotions crashing over him: relief flooding his veins like a lifeline, mingled with the bitter sting of betrayal. “The UK? With Henry? That bastard… he stole her away, thinking he could play knight in shining armor while I rot here? She’s carrying my child, James! Mine! And he’s whisked her across an ocean p>
James nodded, stepping forward to show the tablet’s screen—grainy photos of a very beautiful townhouse, Eliana’s familiar curly hair visible through a window, Frank’s figure beside her. “Yes, sir. It looks like they fled right after the incident with the van. Henry’s covering their tracks masterfully, but not masterfully enough. We can move now—private jet, extraction team. Say the word p>
Rafael sank into his chair, his mind racing, the weight of the past weeks lifting like fog in the morning sun. But beneath the joy lurked a shadow—Mirabel’s frantic searches, the family’s unraveling. “Finally… light at the end of this godforsaken tunnel. But we have to be careful. Mirabel’s been sniffing around too; Clara mentioned it in passing. If she finds Eliana first He trailed off, his voice hardening. “No. We end this. Get the team ready, James. I’m coming too. I’m bringing her home myself p>
James grinned, a spark of loyalty igniting in his eyes. “Consider it done, sir. She’s as good as back p>
As the city lights twinkled below, Rafael allowed himself a rare, genuine smile. Finally.