Chapter 196
Eliana Bennett’s home was a haven of warmth amid the chill of the morning, its nice blue door flanked by potted plants that her father, Frank, tended with loving care despite his frailty. Inside, the air smelled of fresh coffee and toast, a simple breakfast Eliana had prepared before the day’s demands pulled her away. When the doorbell rang, Eliana, her slender frame clad in a nice sweater and jeans that hugged her warm brown skin, opened it to find James standing there, his imposing figure softened by a polite nod.
“Ms. Bennett,” James said, his voice steady and reassuring, like a guardian delivering good news. “I’m back p>
Eliana’s expressive honey-brown eyes widened with a mix of surprise and hope, her lips parting slightly. “James… yes, of course. Come in. Is this about Henry? Did you find him p>
James stepped inside, the cozy living room enveloping him with its warm and inviting furniture—a leather couch, family photos on the mantel showing Eliana, Henry and her father. He pulled out his phone, displaying the photo. “We did. This was taken about thirty minutes ago. He’s at a hotel downtown, talking with a couple of people. Looks fine—alive and well p>
Eliana took the phone gently, her hair falling over her shoulder as she studied the image, her heart pounding with relief. Henry stood there, tall and handsome, mid-conversation with a striking redhead and a disheveled man, but the angle made it seem innocuous, almost friendly. “Oh, thank God,” she whispered, a tear slipping down her soft, heart-shaped face. “I don’t know who these people are—the woman with the red hair, or the man—but Henry… he looks okay. Not hurt. I was so scared after last night’s call p>
James offered a faint, empathetic smile, his rough exterior cracking just a bit. “No need to worry anymore, ma’am. He’s safe. Mr. Vexley wanted you to know personally p>
Eliana handed back the phone, her voice trembling with gratitude. “Thank you, James. Really. Going through all this trouble… for me, for Henry. It means the world p>
“Just doing our job,” James replied modestly, tipping his head. “Take care, Ms. Bennett p>
As James left, climbing back into the van and vanishing down the street, Eliana wasted no time. She dialed Rafael, her fingers steady now, the phone pressed to her ear as she paced the living room, sunlight filtering through the curtains in golden shafts.
“Rafael? It’s Eliana,” she said when he answered, her tone lighter, infused with emotion. “James just stopped by with the photo. Henry’s okay—he’s alive. I can’t thank you enough for looking out for us last night. You didn’t have to, but… you did p>
Rafael’s voice came through, cool and calculated, but with an undercurrent of warmth that only she could draw out. “Eliana. Good to hear your voice steady. I told you we’d find him. No thanks needed—it’s what I do p>
She smiled—small, fragile, but real—though he couldn’t see it from the other end of the line. The expression broke through the bruised places inside her, a quiet bloom of hope pushing past all the fear she’d been carrying. “Still… it means everything,” she murmured. “I’m not scared anymore, Rafael. You can tell your men to go home—the ones who stayed last night. I appreciate it, truly. But I don’t need them shadowing me today p>
Silence stretched for a beat. She could practically hear the gears turning in his mind, the same mind that ran an empire built on precision and paranoia.
“Eliana,” Rafael breathed, voice dropping into that low, steady register he used when danger brushed too close. “Mirabel is still out there. And I don’t trust her. Not with you. Let the men stay—just in case p>
“No, Rafael.” Her tone was gentle but immovable, the kind of softness that carried steel beneath it. “I’ll be fine. I’m taking Papa to the hospital for his checkup before heading to school. It’s already a hectic day… and having a whole team following me around She paused, searching for the right words. “It will makes me feel caged. Like I can’t breathe. Please. Just today p>
On his end of the line, Rafael’s defenses faltered. His sarcasm, his stubbornness—everything he used as armor—melted under the weight of her honesty. “Alright,” he said at last, a reluctant exhale. “I won’t argue. But if anything feels wrong—even a little—call me p>
“I will. Thank you,” she whispered, and ended the call.
The moment the line clicked off, Rafael leaned back in his leather chair, the soft creak of it swallowed by the tension that coiled through him. His jaw tightened; his eyes sharpened with a resolve that could cut steel.
He dialed his security lead, Jax. “Keep the detail on Eliana,” he ordered, voice cold and absolute. “Discreetly. She doesn’t need eyes on her every step—just protection. Follow from a distance. She mustn’t know p>
“Understood, sir,” came the crisp reply.
Rafael ended the call, his gaze darkening as he stared ahead—already calculating, already preparing for the threat he knew was coming.
That same morning, as the sun lifted itself over the rooftops, its warm gold spilling across the sleepy neighborhood, the world seemed to breathe a little softer. Leaves whispered against one another in the mild breeze, carrying with them the earthy scent of early daylight—calm, peaceful, deceptively ordinary.
Inside the house, Eliana moved with quiet purpose. She slipped into her shoes, brushed down her outfit, and turned to her father. Frank stood by the doorway, waiting patiently, his thin shoulders bundled in a blue sweater. His once-dark hair, now streaked with silver, softened his features.
“Come here, Papa,” she said gently, reaching for his coat. She guided his arms through the sleeves with practiced care, smoothing the fabric over him like she was tucking warmth directly into his bones. Frank looked at her with grateful eyes—the kind that held a lifetime of love and apology.
“Ready, Papa?” she asked once he was settled, her voice a soft melody in the quiet morning.
Frank smiled, his eyes crinkling with paternal love. “As ready as I’ll ever be, Ellie. Hospital first, then you off to school. Don’t worry about me—I’ll grab a cab back after p>
Eliana nodded, her hair swaying as they descended the steps to the sidewalk, the air crisp with the scent of fallen leaves and distant rain. Since relocating to London, she hadn’t bothered with a driver’s license—public transport or rideshares sufficed, a remnant of her modest life. “I’ll order a ride,” she said, pulling out her phone. “It’ll be here in five p>
They waited at the curb, chatting lightly—Frank asking about her classes, Eliana sharing a funny anecdote about a professor’s quirky habits—when suddenly, the roar of an engine shattered the calm. A sleek black SUV, tinted windows hiding its driver, barreled down the street at breakneck speed, swerving deliberately toward them like a predator zeroing in on prey.
Eliana’s eyes widened in horror, time slowing as the vehicle hurtled closer. “Papa—look out!” she cried, but Frank, sensing the danger in an instant, shoved her with all his strength, his voice a desperate shout. “Ellie, move p>
She stumbled backward onto the grass, her heart slamming against her ribs, as the SUV clipped Frank with a sickening thud. He flew like a ragdoll, crumpling to the pavement in a heap, blood pooling from his head as the vehicle sped away, tires screeching in triumph.
“No! Papa!” Eliana screamed, scrambling to his side, her hands shaking as she cradled his limp form, tears blurring her vision. The distant security men, hidden in a parked car blocks away, leaped out too late, their shouts echoing futilely as chaos erupted—neighbors rushing out, sirens wailing in the distance. Mirabel’s hit-and-run had struck, swift and merciless, leaving devastation in its wake.