Chapter 153
The metallic tang of blood filled the air, sharp and cold, mingling with the scent of burnt rubber. Henry’s heart pounded against his ribs as his trembling hands pressed against the woman’s shoulder. “Hold on, Ruth. Help’s coming,” he said, his voice shaking but steady enough to mask the fear clawing inside him.
Her breathing was shallow, her eyelids fluttering as she struggled to focus on his face. The taxi’s mangled frame groaned with every gust of wind, glass shards glinting faintly beneath the harsh glare of the morning sun. Sirens wailed in the distance — faint at first, then louder, until flashing red and blue lights bled through the morning.
Paramedics cut through the twisted door with practiced precision, their movements swift but calm. Henry didn’t move from Ruth’s side. He clasped her hand, his thumb brushing over her clammy skin, whispering words he hoped she could still hear.
“Your boy’s waiting for you,” he murmured softly. “You’re going to be okay. I promise p>
She made a faint sound — something between a sigh and a groan — before her eyes rolled back. Panic surged through him. “She’s losing consciousness!” he shouted to the paramedics.
They worked fast, stabilizing her, strapping her onto a stretcher as rain began to drizzle. Henry’s clothes were soaked, but he didn’t care. All he could think about was the horrific twist of fate that had led to this — how Eliana was supposed to be in that taxi, how she had stepped out just minutes before Ruth got in.
He followed the ambulance to his family’s private hospital, the city lights blurring past his windshield. His mind raced the entire way, trying to make sense of the chaos. He’d arranged everything for the relocation — the documents, the flights, the housing in the UK. Everything was supposed to be simple. Clean. Safe. But now, as he trailed behind flashing emergency lights, he couldn’t shake the gnawing suspicion that this wasn’t an accident.
When they reached the ER, Henry stayed close, watching through the glass as doctors and nurses surrounded Ruth. They moved with urgency — checking vitals, ordering scans, preparing for surgery. He caught fragments of their hurried discussion: spinal injury… massive internal trauma… compression to the cord p>
Henry’s stomach churned. He’d seen enough medical cases during his rotations to recognize the gravity of it. Still, something else pressed at the back of his mind — something colder, darker.
This wasn’t random. It was planned.
He replayed the scene in his head: the black van parked near his apartment since yesterday, its tinted windows gleaming like watchful eyes; the way it had followed the taxi that day, keeping just enough distance not to draw attention. Now the van had vanished, and Ruth — not Eliana — was in the hospital fighting for her life.
A chill raced down his spine. Whoever had been behind the wheel of that van hadn’t meant to kill a random woman. They’d meant to kill Eliana.
Henry’s breath hitched as the realization sank in. He pressed a hand to his forehead, pacing the sterile hallway lined with flickering fluorescent lights. His reflection in the glass looked pale, haunted.
“Whoever did this will check hospitals,” he muttered under his breath. “They’ll want confirmation she’s dead p>
He stopped abruptly, glancing toward the nurse’s station. He needed to act fast — to make sure Eliana stayed invisible.
Spotting Nurse Reyes, he called out, “Reyes! I need a word — now p>
She turned, surprise flickering across her face. She was in her late twenties, a woman with kind eyes and a firm, no-nonsense presence that had earned her respect throughout the hospital. She wiped her hands on her scrubs as she approached. “Mr. Jackson? What is it p>
He lowered his voice, leaning closer. “Listen to me carefully. If anyone comes asking for Eliana Bennett — from the accident on Elm and Broad — you tell them she died p>
Reyes blinked. “Excuse me p>
“Tell them she didn’t make it,” Henry said firmly. “That her body was cremated immediately per the family’s wishes. No records, no trace. Do you understand? If you have to adjust files, do it. If anyone from the outside asks of that name in particular — she’s gone p>
Her brow furrowed. “Mr. Jackson, that’s highly irregular. It’s p>
“It’s the only way to protect my friend.” His tone sharpened, desperate and fierce. “Please, Reyes. This wasn’t an accident. Someone wanted my friend Eliana dead but they got Ruth instead. If they want to confirm their mission, they’ll come looking — here first p>
She stared at him for a moment, searching his face. Whatever she saw there — fear, conviction, or both — seemed to convince her. Slowly, she nodded. “All right,” she said quietly. “If it’s to save a life, I’ll make sure everyone’s on the same page p>
“Thank you,” Henry breathed, relief flickering across his face. “Spread the word discreetly. Only the reliable staff should know p>
Reyes gave a solemn nod and hurried off, her footsteps echoing down the corridor.
Henry sank into a chair in the waiting area, his hands trembling. He closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. The weight of what he’d just done pressed heavily on his chest. He’d added Eliana to the hospital’s records —then buried her name, her existence — to keep her safe.
But safety came with silence. And silence, he knew, came with its own kind of cost.
Seven days later, the misty countryside of northern England stretched endlessly beyond the manor’s arched windows — rolling hills, silver fog, and the faint scent of rain-soaked earth. The manor was quiet except for the steady patter of rain against the glass, a sound that had grown almost soothing over the past week.
Henry stood by the window of his room, the pale morning light washing over his face. The relocation had been a blur — silent transitions, and arrangements made under the radar. Eliana and her father had settled in well enough, though a faint sadness clung to her. She still clung to the memories of Rafael Vexley. As for the accident, she still believed Ruth had simply been at the wrong place at the wrong time.
Henry hadn’t told her the truth. He couldn’t. Not yet. Not when she finally seemed at peace — or at least pretending to be.
He turned away from the window, his reflection in the glass shadowed by guilt. If she knew what really happened… if she knew that someone tried to end her life p>
The thought made his stomach twist.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand, breaking through his thoughts. When he saw the name flashing across the screen — Nurse Reyes — unease returned instantly.
He answered. “Reyes? Is everything all right p>
Her voice was hushed, trembling at the edges. “Mr. Jackson… someone came to the hospital today asking for Eliana Bennett p>
Henry’s pulse spiked. “What? Who p>
“Mr. Rafael Vexley himself,” she said. “He came with a man named James — looked like his assistant. And also, two fancy looking women. They demanded the records from the accident on Elm and Broad. They said they believed Eliana was the woman brought in that day p>
Henry’s fingers tightened around the phone. “And what did you tell them p>
“I followed your instructions exactly,” she replied. “I told them she died — severe internal injuries. That the family requested immediate cremation. No remains, no files p>
He exhaled slowly, but the relief was short-lived. “How did he react p>
“Angry at first,” she said softly. “Very angry. Then sad, and then he fainted. I think they all believed me p>
The line went quiet for a moment. Henry stood there, the silence pressing in on him like a weight. When he finally spoke, his voice was a whisper. “So it was him all along p>
“What do you mean?” Reyes asked, but Henry didn’t answer right away.
He walked toward the window again, staring out at the rain falling down the glass. “Rafael Vexley,” he murmured, almost to himself. “The man everyone calls untouchable — the one who hides behind his money, his bodyguards, and his heartlessness. I knew there was something off about him. He’s been obsessed with Eliana for months… controlling, manipulative. Then he dumped her. He’d rather see her dead than free from him p>
“Mr. Jackson,” Reyes said carefully, “do you really think he p>
“I know he did.” His voice hardened. “The van wasn’t random. It was his doing. He wanted her gone, and when it failed, he came sniffing around to confirm it. I can’t believe I was on his side once p>
Henry’s reflection in the glass looked like someone he barely recognized — eyes dark, jaw clenched, fury smoldering just beneath the surface.
Reyes hesitated before speaking again. “Should I notify the authorities? He’s admitted here as we speak p>
“No,” Henry said quickly. “Not yet. If we stir things up now, he’ll know she’s alive. We keep quiet. We keep her safe p>
“I understand,” she murmured.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice softening. “You’ve done more than you know p>
When the call ended, Henry let the phone slip from his hand onto the bed. The rain had grown heavier outside, blurring the horizon. He stood there for a long while, listening to it.
A week ago, he’d thought the move to the UK would be a new beginning for Eliana— a chance to outrun the ghosts of her past. But now he realized those ghosts had real power. Rafael Vexley wasn’t finished. Henry could feel it.
And if Henry was going to keep Eliana safe, he’d have to be ready — to outthink, outmaneuver, and, if necessary, outfight a man who had already proven he was willing to kill.
He turned from the window, his eyes cold with resolve.
This wasn’t over.