Chapter 264
Rafael let out a low, delighted chuckle, steel-grey eyes glinting behind his sunglasses.
“See? Even the children are in on it. This isn’t a hike—it’s a hostile takeover with trail mix. By the time we reach the end, someone’s company will have been quietly acquired over granola bars p>
Eliana laughed, the sound light and genuine, her warm brown skin catching the sun through the trees. “It’s ridiculous,” she said. “But… kind of funny. At least we’re not the only ones pretending p>
When the group reached a small ridge overlooking a sweeping valley, the guide called for a “reflective break.” People paused, admired the view, took photos—and immediately leaned into hushed conversations that had nothing to do with inner peace.
Eliana caught snippets as she passed.
“We merge by Q3 p>
“Agreed. No paperwork yet—just a handshake p>
“Let’s talk valuations after dinner p>
Rafael angled his head toward her, whispering, “Told you. Masks on. Deals done p>
Not long after, a noticeable shift occurred. A handful of executives began gravitating toward Rafael and Eliana, their smiles warm, their voices syrupy. Compliments flowed. Casual questions turned into strategic probing. Rafael entertained the ones that genuinely interested him—charming, sharp, fully engaged. The rest? He acknowledged them with polite indifference so precise it bordered on an art form.
Eventually, the small crowd grew a little too eager.
James and Viktor stepped in smoothly, smiling as they redirected people with impeccable courtesy and immovable authority.
“So sorry—Mr Vexley needs a moment p>
“Of course, we’ll reconnect later p>
“Enjoy the rest of the hike p>
Within minutes, the circle dispersed, dignity intact, ambitions merely postponed.
Eliana glanced at Rafael, amused.
“Very civilized,” she said.
Rafael smirked. “Always p>
By the time they returned to the camp, the sun was dipping toward the horizon, painting the mountains in hues of orange and purple. The air buzzed with the undercurrent of accomplished scheming, everyone congratulating themselves on a “refreshing” outing.
Back in their tent, Eliana collapsed onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. “That was exhausting. Not the walking—the watching everyone perform p>
Rafael, shedding his wheelchair pretense once more, knelt before her and began massaging her feet with surprising tenderness. His strong hands worked the knots away, thumbs pressing into her arches. “You did beautifully, princess. Now, for tonight: the welcome dinner. I picked out something for you p>
He gestured to a garment bag draped over a chair. Unzipping it revealed a stunning evening dress—dark blue silk that cascaded like a waterfall, accentuating her slender figure and warm brown skin. “It’ll make you shine. But first, your hair. Will p>
Will appeared at the flap almost instantly, his muscular build filling the space. “Boss p>
“Arrange the private salon for Eliana. VVIP treatment—style her curls into something elegant. We’ll be there in ten p>
Will nodded with a grin. “On it. Consider it done p>
The private hair salon was another absurdity in this faux-wilderness: a tented pavilion with mirrored stations, crystal lighting, and stylists flown in from the city. As Eliana settled into the chair, the stylist—a bubbly woman named Lena—began working her magic on the long black curls, twisting them into a sophisticated updo with loose tendrils framing her heart-shaped face.
Rafael sat nearby, once again massaging Eliana’s feet as she relaxed. “Comfortable?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.
She closed her eyes, a contented hum escaping her pink lips. “Mmm, yes. This feels like a dream. But why the foot massage? You don’t have to p>
“I want to,” he interrupted gently, his fingers kneading with care. “You’ve been on your feet all day, carrying our little one. Let me take care of you p>
Lena smiled knowingly as she pinned a curl. “You two are adorable. How long have you been together p>
Eliana opened her eyes, glancing at Rafael with a playful spark. “Long enough to know he’s impossible—but wonderful p>
Rafael smirked. “Flattery won’t stop the massage, princess p>
As the sun set, the welcome dinner unfolded under a massive pavilion, long communal tables laden with rustic yet extravagant fare: artisanal breads, herb-crusted venison, truffle-infused salads, and obscene pours of vintage wine that cost more per bottle than Eliana’s collage tuition. The air hummed with laughter and clinking glasses, but beneath it lurked the sharp edges of ambition.
Rafael and Eliana were seated at a prime VVIP table, surrounded by titans of industry. As they settled in, Eliana’s breath hitched—across the pavilion, at another high table, sat Mirabel and Charles Vexley. Mirabel’s elegant form was draped in pearls and silk, her smooth brown skin flawless under the lights, but her icy gaze locked onto Eliana like a predator sizing up prey. Charles, the silver fox in his tailored suit, sat detached, sipping wine with a stern expression.
“Don’t look,” Rafael whispered, his hand squeezing hers under the table. “We pretend we don’t know them. Let them stew p>
Eliana nodded, forcing a smile as a server poured her sparkling water. “It’s hard. She abandoned me as a child, threatened my life as an adult, the life of our baby’s and she put Papa in a coma… and now she’s watching me like I’m the enemy p>
“You’re not,” he assured, his voice firm yet tender. “You’re the queen here. Ignore her p>
Further away, at a lesser table, Sarai and Bianca Monroe simmered with bitterness. Sarai’s fierce beauty was on full display—light brown skin, sharp green eyes, glossy jet-black hair in a sleek bun, her designer dress clinging perfectly. But not being at the VVIP table gnawed at her. Bianca, her inseparable shadow, leaned in, whispering venomously.
“Look at her, Sarai,” Bianca hissed, her voice low. “Eliana, up there like she belongs. With him. She thinks she’s better than us, than you—she thinks she can just take what’s mine p>
Sarai locked eyes with Eliana across the room, plastering on a sweet, saccharine smile that didn’t reach her possessive gaze. Internally, rage boiled—she wanted to kill, to shatter this picture. But Eliana, catching the look, simply turned away, focusing on Rafael. “I see Sarai,” she murmured. “Smiling like we’re still friends. But I won’t engage. She’s nothing to me now p>
“Good,” Rafael replied, his sarcasm surfacing. “Let her choke on her envy. Now, try the venison—it’s obscenely good p>
The dinner dragged on with toasts and small talk, the wine flowing like liquid gold. Laughter erupted at satirical jabs— one CEO quipped, “To disconnecting… while our stocks connect!”—drawing chuckles.
As the evening wound down, Rafael leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to Eliana’s temple in full view. It was a public declaration, raw and real amid the masks. “I love you,” he whispered.
From a shadowed corner, Jason Asher watched, his golden-boy charm cracking. Hazel eyes narrowed, blonde hair disheveled from frustrated hands. The woman who was supposed to be his—forgiving, adoring— was in another’s arms. Something in him snapped, a dark resolve forming.
The night air cooled as the dinner ended, leaving echoes of unspoken wars.