Chapter 254
“Oh, Rafael Eliana Bennett whispered, her voice soft and tender as she cupped his face, her thumbs gently brushing away the tears that had escaped his grey eyes. She leaned in closer, her honey eyes wide with a mix of surprise and affection. “Don’t cry p>
But the words seemed to unravel him further. Rafael’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, a rare crack in his usually impenetrable facade. More tears welled up unbidden, hot and insistent, betraying the cold, calculating billionaire he had always presented to the world. He jerked his head away, burying his face in his hands, his broad shoulders hunching as if he could shrink into invisibility. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, his voice muffled and thick with emotion. He couldn’t bear it—the vulnerability, the raw exposure. This wasn’t him; he was the puppet master, the one who orchestrated lives from the shadows, not the man who wept like a child over happiness he never thought he’d deserve.
Eliana’s heart twisted at the sight. She had always seen Rafael as this towering figure of strength and mystery, his chiseled jaw and athletic build exuding command even when he pretended frailty to the world. But now, watching him hide like this, she glimpsed something deeper, something profoundly human. She hadn’t realized just how much their marriage meant to him—not like this, not to the point of tears. In her mind, his recent tenderness—the breakfasts in bed, the gentle touches, the unwavering support—had been born of obligation. The baby growing inside her, their shared history as lovers before that brutal breakup, and perhaps his guilt for the way he’d shattered her trust back then. But this? This was love, pure and overwhelming, spilling out because she was finally his wife. The realization hit her like a warm wave, and her own eyes misted over, tears blurring her vision.
“Rafael,” she said softly, reaching out to pull him back into her arms. He resisted at first, but she persisted, wrapping her slender arms around his neck and drawing him close. As he relented, burying his face in the crook of her shoulder, she held him tightly, her curly black hair cascading over them like a protective veil. In that moment, Eliana prayed silently, her heart pounding with a fervent plea: Please, let this be real. No more manipulations, no more hidden agendas. She had been hurt by him before, the scars still tender beneath her hopeful smile. But right here, in the quiet intimacy of her bedroom, she chose to let go—to release the pain and embrace the possibility of his love. Yet a small voice in her heart whispered doubts: Are you sure he won’t switch up again? What if this is just another layer of his game? She pushed it aside, deciding then and there to give him a second chance, wholeheartedly, without reservations.
Rafael, still wrestling with his emotions, felt the tears subside but the embarrassment lingered like a stubborn fog. He pulled away gently, his hands lingering on her arms as he forced a shaky smile. “I… I need a minute,” he said, his voice cracking cutely, almost boyish in its vulnerability. Before she could respond, he stood abruptly, his tall frame moving with uncharacteristic haste as he darted out of the room, leaving the door ajar behind him. He couldn’t believe it—him, Rafael Vexley, reduced to a sensitive mess. What would she think of him now? Weak? Pathetic? The thought gnawed at him as he paced the hallway, wiping his face with the back of his hand.
Back in the bedroom, Eliana stared at the empty doorway, a soft laugh bubbling up through her tears. She wiped her eyes, her lips curving into a genuine smile. “Oh, Rafael,” she murmured to herself, shaking her head fondly. His cute, flustered escape was so unlike the commanding man she knew, and it endeared him to her even more. It was a side of him she’d never seen, and it made her heart swell with affection.
After breakfast—after the last bite of fluffy eggs and sweet fruit that somehow tasted richer now, like they’d absorbed the morning’s emotions—Eliana finally dragged herself up to get ready. She slipped into a comfortable maternity dress that curved lovingly around her almost six-month-pregnant belly, the soft fabric flowing easily against her warm brown skin. The dress didn’t announce her pregnancy so much as whisper it, which she appreciated.
She gathered her long curls into a loose ponytail, the kind that said effort was made, but not too much, and smoothed a touch of lip gloss over her full lips. When she caught her reflection, she paused. Despite her earlier dramatic objections to shopping—complaints that had been loud, passionate, and entirely ignored—there was a renewed spark in her eyes. Pregnancy exhaustion or not, the day no longer felt like something to survive. It felt… interesting.
Downstairs, Rafael had pulled himself together too—mostly. The faint redness around his eyes betrayed the earlier tears, but otherwise he was back in his carefully crafted public role. He sat in his electric wheelchair, posture relaxed yet controlled, grey contact lenses dulling the sharpness of his natural gaze to sell the illusion of blindness. Dark shades rested on his nose, because subtlety had never been the point.
James stood nearby, calm and unobtrusive, as reliable as gravity. He was the keeper of Rafael’s secrets—the kind you didn’t write down or say out loud—and he guarded them with quiet devotion. If Rafael was a man living in layers, James was the one making sure none of them slipped.
And upstairs, as Eliana took one last look at herself before heading down, there was the faint, unmistakable pull of anticipation in her chest. Whatever today held—shopping bags, lingering glances, or Rafael pretending not to see her when he very much did—it was already charged with something warm, dangerous, and deliciously unresolved.
“Ready for the shopping spree, Mrs. Vexley?” James asked with a warm smile as Eliana descended the stairs.
She nodded, glancing at Rafael with a teasing glint in her eyes. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Though after this morning’s… excitement, I might need extra pampering p>
Rafael cleared his throat, a hint of color returning to his cheeks. “Let’s just get going before I change my mind about spoiling you rotten p>
James chuckled softly, helping Rafael maneuver the wheelchair toward the waiting car. As usual, James drove, with Rafael and Eliana in the back seat. Rafael’s men followed in a sleek black SUV behind them: Oliver, Will, Liam, Kai, Viktor, and Jax. None of them knew Rafael’s disabilities were a ruse—only Eliana and James were privy to that truth—so they treated him with the careful deference his “condition” demanded.
To be continued p>