Chapter 155
One evening, as rain lashed the mansion’s windows, a knock echoed through the grand foyer. James had just left Rafael’s office and heading towards the living room when the knock came. His hesitated for a beat before crossing the hall, his footsteps soft against the Persian rug. When he opened the door, rain-scented air rushed in, cold and heavy. There, beneath the porch light, stood Clara Norman.
Her hood was drawn up, droplets glistening on the fabric, but he recognized her instantly. That face—soft yet worn by years of quiet endurance—belonged to a woman who had seen too much and still carried herself with grace. Though she was thirty-seven, her youthful features could have passed for someone in her mid twenties, if not for the sadness behind her eyes. Those eyes—warm, cautious, and kind—held stories of loss, resilience, and a love that once tethered her to this house through Eleanor Vexley, Rafael’s late mother.
James’s breath hitched. “Clara,” he murmured, genuine surprise softening the tension in his face. “I… I didn’t think you’d actually come. After everything that happened, I wouldn’t have blamed you if you hadn’t. Please—come in p>
She stepped inside, the storm fading to a distant murmur as the heavy door closed behind her. The soft glow of the chandelier caught the sheen of rain on her coat as she pulled the hood back and brushed a strand of wet hair from her cheek. Her simple dress clung slightly, revealing how soaked she was, but there was a calm determination in the way she stood.
“Come on James,” she began, her voice low but steady. “After you found me in that little apartment and went down on your knees begging me to forgive Mr. Vexley… how could I have possibly stayed away? You told me how broken he’s been since Eliana left—how he barely eats, barely speaks. I couldn’t just ignore that.” She exhaled softly, her expression torn between compassion and caution. “I told myself I’d never set foot here again, but… I couldn’t leave him like this. Not if he’s still hurting. I promise madam Eleanor that I would always look out for him p>
James’s shoulders eased. The relief in his eyes was palpable as he offered a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Clara. You have no idea how much this means. He… he needs someone who still sees the good in him p>
She nodded quietly, glancing around the familiar walls that once held both joy and grief. The mansion hadn’t changed much—grand but somber, like it was holding its breath.
Moments later, upstairs in the study, the sound of rain muffled by heavy curtains, Rafael Vexley sat hunched over his desk. Papers littered the surface—medical reports, ledgers, and notes scrawled in his restless handwriting. When James knocked softly and opened the door, Rafael didn’t look up immediately. His dark hair was tousled, his expression haunted by sleepless nights.
“Sir,” James said gently. “You have a visitor. It’s Clara. She came back p>
Rafael finally looked up, doubt flickering in his eyes—until he saw who stood behind James. The color drained from his face.
“Clara?” His voice cracked slightly, disbelief threading through the word like his mind couldn’t quite process her presence. “After everything I said… after what I did to you… you came back p>
Clara took a hesitant step forward. The air between them seemed to hum with unspoken memories—the arguments, the accusations, the betrayal. Yet beneath it all was something fragile but alive.
“Yes,” she said simply, her voice barely a whisper. “I came back p>
Rafael swallowed hard, shame flickering across his face. “Why p>
Clara approached slowly, her voice steady but laced with hurt. “Because you’re family, Mr Vexley. Madam Eleanor raised me like a daughter alongside you. And Eliana… she was good to me. To all of us. You treated me badly, yes. Abducted me, questioned me like a criminal. But I see your pain now. It’s eating you alive p>
Rafael’s shoulders slumped, his sarcastic armor cracking. “I’m sorry, Clara. Truly. I was blind—not just literally but figuratively. I let my suspicions poison everything. Forgive me p>
She paused, then nodded, a small smile breaking through. “Apology accepted. But only if you let me help. You’re a mess—depressed, barely eating. Let me cook for you, keep the house in order. And talk to me when it gets too heavy p>
From that day, Clara became his lifeline. She’d bring him warm meals in the study, sitting with him as he poured out his fears. “She saw through my walls, Clara,” he’d confess one night, voice breaking. “Her smile… it lit up my darkness. And now, without her p>
Clara would squeeze his hand. “You’ll find her. She’s resilient, like you. Hold on p>
During those grueling weeks, Mirabel Vexley made unannounced visits, her elegant figure sweeping into the mansion like a storm in pearls and silk. She always exuded icy command. As Rafael’s stepmother and Eliana and Clara’s biological mother—who had abandoned them for wealth—she claimed concern, but her motives reeked of manipulation.
On her first visit, she cornered Clara in the kitchen, her voice saccharine. “Clara, darling. It’s been too long. I’ve missed you—my firstborn, after all. We share blood; let’s reconcile. And Eliana… I can’t find her anywhere. What has Rafael done to my daughter p>
Clara turned from the stove, her youthful features hardening. “Mrs Vexley, you’re no mother to me. You disappeared after my father’s death, left me orphaned. Eleanor took me in—not you. And Eliana? She suffered because you chose money over her. I want nothing to do with you. Also, leave Eliana alone, would you p>
Mirabel’s eyes flashed, but she composed herself. “Blood is thicker than grudges, Clara. Think about it p>
Similar scenes played out repeatedly—Mirabel insisting on searches, accusing Rafael in veiled barbs. “If he’s innocent, why hide her? He must have harmed her.” She had cornered James and was interrogating him. And James? He looked really pissed off.
Rafael overheard once, his patience fraying, but held back for the search’s sake.
Then, on a stormy afternoon two weeks in, Mirabel arrived uninvited again, bursting into the study where Rafael, James, and Clara huddled over new leads. Her heels clicked authoritatively. “Rafael, this charade ends now. Where is Eliana? I’ve scoured the city—nothing. You did something to her like you did to Victor, didn’t you? Admit it p>
Rafael sat up straight in his wheelchair, his athletic frame looking intimidating as always, steel eyes blazing with pent-up rage. “You… you dare accuse me? After abandoning her, marrying my father for his fortune? Get out p>
Mirabel smirked, unfazed. “She’s my daughter p>
“And mine to protect!” Rafael roared, slamming his fist on the desk. Papers scattered. “You value power over people, Mirabel. But I love her. Truly. Now leave before I p>
James stepped in, voice calm. “Mrs. Vexley, it’s best you go p>
Clara glared. “You’re not welcome here, Mother or not p>
Mirabel’s composure cracked, her elegant facade slipping. “This isn’t over. Blood calls to blood p>
As she stormed out, Rafael sank into his chair, trembling. “She’s involved, I know it. We have to find Eliana—fast p>