Chapter 129
As the cab pulled away from the pastry shop, Eliana Bennett sagged into the worn leather seat like the weight of the world had finally cornered her. Her body trembled—not with the neat, controlled shivers of someone holding it together, but like a fragile leaf caught in a merciless storm.
Outside, the city unfurled in a blur of wet lights and shadows. Just as the engine rumbled to life, the first drops of rain began to fall—soft at first, then quick and relentless, drumming against the roof in a rhythm that felt almost cruel. It was the kind of rain that belonged in bad romance movies, the kind that mocked your pain with cinematic timing.
Through the rain-streaked window, skyscrapers sliced through the bruised gray sky, their mirrored surfaces catching fleeting glimmers of passing headlights. Pedestrians huddled beneath umbrellas, moving in hurried clusters, while the distant hum of traffic grew louder, a hollow soundtrack to her unraveling.
In her hand, Eliana clutched her phone so tightly her knuckles ached. The screen was still faintly warm from the call that had just splintered her heart all over again.
Tears slipped down her warm brown skin, slow at first, then unstoppable—tiny rivers carving their way down the delicate lines of her soft, heart-shaped face. Her lips trembled as a sob climbed up her throat, threatening to break free. She pressed a hand against her mouth, muffling the sound, as if hiding her pain from the world could make it any less real.
Her modest, blouse clung to her trembling frame, soaked in cold air and heartbreak. The cab’s heater hummed weakly, doing nothing to stop the chill creeping beneath her skin.
Eliana closed her eyes, letting the rhythm of the rain blur with the rhythm of her grief.
“Driver,” she managed to choke out after a while, her voice barely above a whisper, thick with grief. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, but fresh tears replaced them instantly. “Take me to… to Bellwood Apartments. 452 Oakwood Avenue. Please p>
The cab driver, a middle-aged man with a tired face etched by years on the road, glanced at her in the rearview mirror. His bushy eyebrows furrowed in concern. “You alright back there, miss? Sounds like a rough day p>
Eliana forced a shaky nod, but her honey eyes betrayed her, glistening with unshed pain. “Just… drive, please. I don’t want to talk about it p>
He sighed, turning up the radio slightly—a soft jazz melody that only amplified the ache in her chest. The notes wrapped around her like invisible chains, reminding her of the dances she and Rafael had shared in stolen moments, his strong arms around her waist, his steel-grey eyes—pretended blind—softening just for her. Now, those memories twisted like knives. “Why does it always end like this?” she whispered to herself, her curls falling forward like a curtain, shielding her from the world. “I give everything, and it’s never enough p>
The cab wove through traffic, each red light feeling like an eternity. Eliana’s mind replayed the call: Rafael’s venomous accusations, his voice like ice cracking under pressure. “Is it James’s turn now?” he’d sneered. The words echoed, fueling her sobs. She pressed her forehead against the cool glass, watching raindrops race down the window, mirroring her tears. Her father had always said she was too trusting, too quick to believe in people. But how could she not? In a life marked by abandonment—her mother walking out, leaving her to care for a sickly parent—love had been her only anchor. And now, it was dragging her under.
By the time the cab pulled up to Henry’s upscale apartment building, the sleek glass tower rising amid manicured lawns, Eliana’s face was puffy and red. She paid the driver with trembling hands, mumbling a thank you before stepping out into the drizzle. The doorman nodded sympathetically as she hurried inside, her new shoes—a gift from Henry—squeaking on the marble lobby floor.
Upstairs, in Henry’s spacious apartment, the air smelled of cardboard and fresh paint—a testament to the upheaval ahead. Boxes towered in neat stacks along the walls, labeled in Henry’s precise handwriting: “Kitchen Essentials,” “Books,” “Clothes for UK.” A few empty ones sat open on the living room floor, waiting to swallow the last remnants of their lives here. The place was a blend of luxury and transience: plush leather sofas, a grand fireplace crackling softly, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline. But today, it felt like a cage, the packed boxes a reminder of the flight to the UK tomorrow—a fresh start Henry had arranged, pulling strings with his wealthy family’s connections to get her a good school and her father’s medical treatment abroad.
Eliana burst through the door, slamming it behind her with a force that rattled the frames on the walls. She dropped her bag by the entrance, her knees buckling as she sank to the floor amid the boxes. Sobs erupted from her chest, raw and unrestrained, echoing off the high ceilings. “Why… why does he hate me so much?” she cried out, her voice muffled by her hands covering her face. Her long curly hair falling around her like a dark waterfall, tangled from the wind and tears. The emotional wounds she’d buried for so long—her mother’s abandonment, her grandfather’s death, Jason and Sarai’s betrayal, and now Rafael’s cruel distrust—poured out in waves, leaving her gasping for air.
From the adjacent bedroom, her father emerged, his kind eyes shadowed by worry lines. His graying hair was neatly combed, and he wore a simple sweater over pajamas, a testament to him obeying the doctor’s rest order. He moved slowly, each step a labored effort from recovering, but his face softened at the sight of his daughter crumbling.
“Eliana? Sweetheart, what’s happened?” he asked, his voice gentle but laced with concern. He hobbled over, lowering himself carefully onto the floor beside her, ignoring the protest of his aching joints. He pulled her into his arms, her head resting against his chest, where she could hear the steady, strong, thump of his heart.
“Papa… all hope is lost now,” Eliana wailed, clinging to him like a child. Her body shook with sobs, soaking his sweater. “I went to see James today… to ask about Rafael. I just wanted to know if he was okay. But Rafael called… out of nowhere. And he… he accused me of seducing James! Of being after his money, like some… some gold-digger, also of working for Mirabel. After everything we’ve been through, Papa! I loved him… I still do. But he thinks I’m trash p>
Mr. Bennett stroked her hair, his calloused hands tender despite years of hardship. “Oh, my girl… shh, let it out. Tell me everything, from the beginning p>
Through hiccuping breaths, Eliana poured out the story. “I was in the pastry shop with James. The smell of croissants and coffee… it was supposed to be comforting. But then my phone rang—Rafael’s name on the screen. I was so happy, Papa! I thought maybe he’d forgiven me, that we could talk about the truth—the real reason I was connected to Mirabel, and most importantly, about his baby. But no… his voice was so cold. ’Is it James’s turn now?’ he said. ’Was I not enough?’ He called me a schemer, a loyal dog to his enemies. I… I yelled back. I told him to shut up, that he could call me a liar but not question my integrity. It’s all I have left p>
Her father’s arms tightened around her. “That man… he’s blind in more ways than one, isn’t he? Not just with those eyes of his. But you stood up for yourself, Eliana. That’s my strong girl p>
She pulled back slightly, her honey eyes searching his, rimmed with red. “But it hurts so much, Papa. I stormed out, told James I was done. That Rafael doesn’t deserve the truth I was going to share. Now… we’re leaving for the UK tomorrow. For a new start. I should be excited, but all I feel is this… emptiness p>
Mr. Bennett cupped her face, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. “Listen to me, sweetheart. You’ve carried the weight of the world on those slender shoulders for too long. Your mother leaving us… that wasn’t your fault. And this Rafael? He’s a broken man, hiding behind walls higher than his skyscrapers. But you? You’re resilient. Kind-hearted. You’ve got a quiet strength that could move mountains. Everything’s going to be alright. We’ll get to the UK, and you’ll build a new life. One where love doesn’t come with chains p>
Eliana sniffled, managing a watery smile. “You always know what to say, Papa. How do you do that p>
He chuckled softly, a warm, rumbling sound that lightened the air just a fraction. “Years of practice, raising a spitfire like you. Remember when you were little, and that neighborhood bully stole your bike? You marched right up to him, tears in your eyes, and demanded it back. Said, ’That’s mine, and you can’t walk all over me!’ Even back then, you knew your worth p>
She laughed through her tears, the sound bittersweet. “I was seven. And he gave it back because you were standing behind me, looking scary p>
“Details, details,” he teased, his eyes twinkling. “Point is, you’ve got that fire in you. Don’t let this extinguish it p>
Eliana nodded, drawing in a deep, steadying breath. “You’re right. I won’t.” She helped him up, both of them groaning dramatically as they rose—her from emotional exhaustion, him from his aches. “Come on, let’s get you back to your room. You need rest before the flight p>
As her father shuffled back, Eliana turned to the empty boxes scattered on the floor. Determination flickered in her expressive eyes, replacing some of the despair. She grabbed one, unfolding it with purposeful snaps. “No more wasting time on Rafael Vexley,” she muttered to herself, her voice firm despite the lingering tremble. “He’s made his choice. Now, I make mine p>
She began packing furiously, stuffing books from the shelves into the box—romance novels she’d once devoured, dreaming of a love like the ones on the pages. Each thump of a book hitting cardboard was a punctuation to her resolve. The apartment filled with the rustle of paper and tape, a rhythmic distraction from the storm inside. Henry’s medical textbooks went in next, their spines worn from his ambitious studies. She paused at one, tracing the cover, thinking of Henry—tall, handsome, with those warm eyes that had always looked at her with unspoken affection. He’d been there in college, a quiet presence while she chased Jason’s illusions. Now, he was offering her a lifeline to the UK, no strings attached. Or were there? She shook the thought away, focusing on the task.
Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, pulling her from her trance. It was a text from James: “Eliana, I’m so sorry about today. I had no idea Rafael was watching. This is all a mess. Please, let me explain to him p>
She stared at the screen, her full lips pressing into a line. With a sigh, she typed back: “James, it’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it. Just… take care of him. And yourself p>
Sending it felt like closing a door, but as she set the phone down, fresh tears welled up unbidden. She’d promised herself—no more crying. “Damn it,” she whispered, sinking onto the sofa amid the boxes. The fireplace crackled mockingly, casting dancing shadows that seemed to whisper Rafael’s name. Her chest tightened again, memories flooding back: his sarcastic quips that hid vulnerability, the way his chiseled jaw softened when she touched him, the secret of his regained sight that she’d guarded like her own. “I promised I wouldn’t cry again,” she said aloud to the empty room, her voice breaking. “But how do I stop when it feels like my heart’s been ripped out p>
The tears came anyway, silent now, sliding down her cheeks as she curled up on the couch. The packed boxes loomed like sentinels, guardians of a future uncertain but free from his chains. Tomorrow, the UK awaited—a new Chapter, perhaps without the drama, the betrayal. But tonight, in the quiet luxury of Henry’s apartment, Eliana allowed herself one last surrender to the pain, swearing silently that it would be the final time.