Chapter 201
In the dim glow of Eliana’s hospital room, where the sterile scent of antiseptic mingled with the faint beep of monitors, Rafael Vexley sat frozen in his wheelchair, his steel eyes—pretending to be clouded—widening in disbelief. The words Eliana had just uttered hung in the air like a fragile promise, one that could shatter with the slightest breath. His heart, that once cold, guarded fortress, thrummed wildly against his ribs. Marriage. To her. Even if it was under the guise of a contract, it was the dream he’d buried deep within his cynical soul, now clawing its way to the surface.
“Eliana,” Rafael said, his voice a low rumble, laced with astonishment and a hint of vulnerability he rarely allowed to slip. “Did I… did I hear you right? You’re saying you’ll marry me? This contract marriage—you’re actually agreeing to it p>
Eliana Bennett pushed herself a little higher against the pillows, though the effort pulled a quiet wince from her. Her warm brown skin was pale from exhaustion and grief. Still, when she lifted her face to meet Rafael’s eyes, there was nothing weak about her. Her honey gaze—once soft, full of bright hopes and gentle dreams—now carried a sharp, unshakable resolve.
Her curls spilled over her shoulders in a dark, protective curtain, framing a face that looked far too tired for someone so young. Her hands instinctively drifted to her small, rounded belly, fingertips trembling as they pressed over the quiet flutter beneath—tiny movements from a child who had no idea the world around them was falling apart.
She swallowed, straightening her spine despite the grief pulling at her limbs, and nodded. Her lips moved into a firm, unyielding line.
“Rafael,” she said quietly, but with a steel edge that left no room for argument, “I mean it. I’ll agree. But just so we’re clear… the marriage contract lasts one year. Exactly one. Not a day more p>
The words hit him harder than he expected. A sharp ache gripped Rafael’s chest, something between disappointment and a frustration he dared not voice. One year. A single year to pretend—no, to taste—the life he secretly wished could be real. And then it would all vanish again.
He masked the sting with the only armor he trusted: sarcasm.
He leaned forward slightly in his wheelchair, the muscles in his jaw tightening, a shadow crossing his striking features.
“Only a year?” he echoed, a crooked smirk tugging at his lips. “That’s… oddly specific. What’s the matter, Eliana? Worried I might grow on you if you let me stick around any longer? Like some persistent bad habit you can’t shake p>
But beneath the joke, his eyes betrayed him—revealing the flicker of hope he was terrified to admit even to himself.
She didn’t smile at his attempt at levity. Instead, her voice grew firmer, edged with the raw emotion of the day’s horrors—her father’s battered body in the next room, the threatening text from Mirabel still searing her mind. “I’m only doing this because you promised me that taking your name is the fastest way to protect myself and our unborn child. With your power, your influence… no one would dare touch us. Not Mirabel, not anyone p>
Rafael’s fingers gripped the arms of his wheelchair, his athletic build tensing beneath his crisp designer suit. Her words sliced through him again like a sharp knife—the faster way, she called it, but to him, it was a rejection wrapped in necessity. She wasn’t choosing him out of love, but out of desperation. In his mind, he whispered a vow to himself: “A year is enough. I’ll make her fall back in love with me, like she did before. I’ll show her the man beneath the facade.” Outwardly, he forced a nod, his voice steady and warm. “I understand. And if that’s what it takes to keep you safe, then yes. I agree happily. During that year, Eliana, I’ll treat you like the queen you are. Nothing more, nothing less. You’ll have everything—protection, luxury, peace. I promise p>
Eliana’s eyes softened just a fraction, but the fire of revenge still flickered there. “What I’m about to say might sound selfish, Rafael, but I need you to hear it. I’m only agreeing to this to borrow your power for a year. To shield myself, my family… my child. After that, we go our separate ways p>
The hurt deepened, a storm raging in his soul, but he hid it masterfully, his sarcastic edge returning as a shield. “Selfish? Darling, in my world, that’s called smart negotiating. Consider my power yours. We’ll make it official p>
Without another word, Rafael reached for his phone on Eliana’s bedside table, his movements smooth and confident—far too controlled for a man who was supposed to be blind. The mask was slipping, and for once, he didn’t care.
“James,” he said as soon as the line clicked, his voice low, firm, threaded with a barely contained surge of adrenaline. “Come to Eliana’s room. Now p>
The door opened almost immediately, James stepping inside with the cautious alertness of someone who had walked in on many of Rafael’s storms before. His eyes flicked between the two of them—Eliana’s tense stillness, Rafael’s uncharacteristically sharpened focus—and his brows drew together.
“Sir? Miss Bennett? Is everything alright p>
Rafael didn’t bother answering the question. He pushed his wheelchair forward until he was close enough to feel the warmth radiating from Eliana’s trembling form. His gaze never left her, even as he spoke to James with a controlled urgency that betrayed the thundering in his chest.
“I need you to draft a marriage contract,” he said, each word crisp and deliberate. “One year. Between Eliana and me. Include every protection clause possible. Make it airtight p>
His voice dropped, quieter but far more intense.
“And James… I need it done fast p>
James’s eyes lit up with genuine happiness, though he kept his professional facade intact, straightening his tie. “Of course, sir. Right away. Congratulations… I mean, I’ll get on it immediately.” He nodded to Eliana with a warm, almost paternal smile before turning on his heel and exiting, the door clicking shut behind him.
Rafael turned back to Eliana, the hard edges in his expression softening as if only she had the power to draw gentleness out of him. When he spoke, his voice dropped to a low murmur—quiet enough to calm, but threaded with a barely contained storm of strategy already unfolding in his mind.
“Once the doctors clear you to leave this place,” he said, leaning in slightly, “we’re going straight to the courthouse p>
His lips curved, not quite a smile—more like a promise wrapped in ambition.
“We’ll make it big. Loud. Flashy. The kind of wedding that blinds every reporter in a ten-mile radius. Paparazzi, headlines, cameras—let the world see it p>
He paused, studying her face, searching for hesitation… or maybe hoping for something else.
“Sound good?” he asked softly, the quiet question carrying far more weight than the casual tone he tried to hide it under.
To be continued p>