Chapter 98: Sea of Betrayal
The luxury car’s interior felt like a suffocating cocoon as Rafael Vexley slumped back against the leather seat, his steel eyes wide with a storm of disbelief. The revelation from James’s tablet had shattered the fragile walls he’d built around his heart. Eliana Bennett—his Eliana, the woman whose gentle touch had begun to thaw his frozen soul—was Mirabel’s daughter? It couldn’t be. It was a cruel joke, a nightmare from which he desperately wanted to wake. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles whitening, as he stared at the glowing screen James held out.
"No," Rafael muttered, his voice a raw whisper laced with denial. He shook his head slowly at first, then more vehemently, as if the motion could shake the truth away. "This has to be a mistake, James. A goddamn forgery or some hacked-up nonsense. Mirabel’s daughter? Eliana? The same Eliana who’s been under my roof, caring for me, pretending to... to what? Love me? No, I won’t believe it. Hand me that tablet."
James, ever the loyal secretary, hesitated for a fraction of a second, his own face etched with sympathy and unease. He passed the device over, his fingers brushing Rafael’s in a silent gesture of support. "Sir, I wish it were wrong too. But the records... they’re from sealed court documents, birth certificates. It’s all there."
Rafael snatched the tablet, his athletic frame leaning forward with predatory intensity. His piercing eyes, no longer feigning cloudiness, scanned the lines frantically. There it was: Mirabel’s second marriage to Frank Bennett, the birth of their daughter in a modest hospital, the abandonment that followed. Photos, faded but unmistakable—Mirabel younger, less polished, holding a bundled infant. Eliana. His breath hitched, a sharp pain twisting in his chest like a knife. He scrolled further, hoping for a contradiction, a loophole, but the evidence piled up like an avalanche, burying his denial.
"Damn it," he breathed, his voice cracking. He thrust the tablet back at James, his hand trembling ever so slightly. "Call Sam. Right now. Put him on speaker. I need to hear it from the horse’s mouth—how accurate is this? Is there any chance he’s wrong?"
James nodded solemnly, pulling out his phone with practiced efficiency. The dial tone echoed in the confined space, each ring amplifying the tension. Finally, a gruff voice answered. "James? This better be important. I’m knee-deep in another case."
"Sam, it’s Rafael Vexley," Rafael interjected, his tone commanding despite the undercurrent of desperation. "The report you sent—the one about Mirabel’s marriage to Frank Bennett. How sure are you? Percentage-wise. Don’t sugarcoat it."
There was a pause on the line, the sound of papers rustling. Sam’s voice came back steady, unflinching. "Mr. Vexley, I’ve been in this business for twenty-five years. I cross-checked everything: public records, private databases, even spoke to a retired clerk from the courthouse. The marriage to Frank Bennett? Ironclad. The daughter, Eliana? Birth certificate matches, DNA traces from ancestry sites corroborate it. One hundred percent accurate. No doubts. If I’m wrong, I’ll eat my license."
Rafael’s world tilted. A hundred percent. The words hammered into him, each one a blow to his already scarred heart. He closed his eyes, feeling the hot sting of tears he refused to let fall. Eliana, the one person he’d let see through his facade of blindness and paralysis, the one who’d made him feel human again—betraying him? Or was she? The questions swirled, a vortex of heartbreak and fury. "Fine," he said hoarsely, waving a hand at James to end the call. "That’s enough. Hang up."
James disconnected, glancing at his boss with concern. "Sir? The rest of the report—there’s more about Mirabel’s schemes, the ties to—"
"No," Rafael cut him off, his voice a broken growl. "No more reading. I can’t... I can’t take it right now." He fumbled for his phone in his suit pocket, switching it on with fingers that felt numb. The screen lit up, notifications flooding in. One missed call from Eliana. Six from Clara. His heart skipped—something had gone wrong at the estate, that much was clear. But the betrayal burned hotter. Why had Eliana lied? Why had Clara hidden her connection to Mirabel? They were in on it together, puppets in his stepmother’s web. He had to confront them, peel back the layers of deceit.
Without another word, he dialed Eliana’s number. The ringtone mocked him, echoing unanswered. Once. Twice. He tried again, pacing the call in his mind like a hunter. Three times. Four. Five. Nothing. Each unanswered ring fueled the fire in his veins, mixing rage with a deep, aching sorrow. "She’s ignoring me," he muttered, slamming the phone down on the seat. "Drive me home, James. Straight there. No stops."
James started the engine, the car purring to life as it pulled onto the quiet highway. He glanced in the rearview mirror, his brow furrowed. "Sir, if I may... what are you planning to do? To Eliana? To Clara? This is heavy stuff. You can’t just—"
Rafael’s eyes flashed with a mix of pain and resolve, his chiseled jaw tightening. "What I do depends on them, James. On how they answer the questions I’m about to throw at them. If they’re honest... maybe there’s a way out of this hell. If not?" He trailed off, staring out at the blurring city lights, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Then God help them."
Meanwhile, across town in the sterile glow of the Jackson’s Hospital, Eliana Bennett lay on the crisp white sheets of her bed, her slender frame exhausted from the barrage of tests the doctors had run. Her warm brown skin was pale under the fluorescent lights, her expressive honey eyes shadowed with worry. The phone on the bedside table buzzed insistently, Rafael’s name flashing on the screen. Once. Twice. She stared at it, her full lips pressed into a thin line, her long curls, black as night spilling over the pillow like a dark halo.
Henry Jackson sat beside her, his tall, handsome figure leaning forward, sharp features softened by concern. His warm eyes searched her face as he reached out, gently covering her hand with his. "Eliana, that’s him again. You should answer. Whatever’s going on, hiding won’t make it better."
She shook her head, pulling her hand away to tuck a curl behind her ear, her voice trembling with emotion. "I can’t, Henry. Not yet. My head’s a mess—everything with the pregnancy, Mirabel, with my past crashing back... and Rafael? If he finds out I’m her daughter, what then? He’ll think I was part of some plot. I’m not ready to face that storm."
Henry squeezed her hand tighter this time, his touch steady and reassuring, like an anchor in her turbulent sea. "Listen to me," he said softly, his ambitious nature giving way to the kindness he’d always harbored for her. "Telling the truth is always the best option. It’s scary, I know—God, do I know. But secrets like this? They fester. They destroy. Remember college? I watched you with Jason, saw how you suffered in silence when he would neglect your feelings, and I said nothing. I kept my feelings a secret. Maybe if I didn’t, we wouldn’t be in this situation now. The truth is better than fear. At least you will know you cleared your conscience and have no regrets later in life."
Eliana’s eyes welled up, a single tear tracing down her soft face. "But what if the truth destroys everything? What if it puts me in danger? Rafael is scary when it comes to handling anyone associated with Mirabel. I need time, Henry. Three days. Just three days to think, to prepare myself for whatever fallout comes."
He nodded, his reserved demeanor cracking into a protective fervor. "Three days, a week, whatever you need. I’ll support you in any decision you make. Always have, always will. And Eliana?" He leaned closer, his voice fierce with unspoken love. "I’ll never let Rafael Vexley—or anyone—hurt you. Not while I’m breathing. You’re not alone in this darkness anymore."
A small, hopeful smile broke through her tears, her emotional resilience shining even in vulnerability. She sat up slowly, wincing at the lingering ache from the tests, and pulled him into a tight hug. His arms enveloped her, strong and comforting, the scent of his cologne a reminder of simpler times. "Thank you, Henry," she whispered against his shoulder, her voice muffled but sincere. "You’re the light in all this chaos. I don’t know what I’d do without you."
He held her a moment longer, his heart aching with the love he’d kept hidden since he set his eyes on her. "You’d manage, because you’re stronger than you know. But you don’t have to. I’m here."
Back at the Vexley estate, the grand mansion loomed like a silent sentinel under the night sky, its marble facade bathed in soft floodlights. The air was deceptively peaceful, the manicured gardens still, the staff moving like ghosts in the shadows. Mirabel had seen to that—her icy threats earlier that day had silenced everyone. "Mention one word about my search for that girl," she’d hissed to the housekeepers, her elegant frame towering in pearls and silk, "and I’ll make sure you never work again. Or worse." Fear hung in the air like fog, binding tongues and stifling whispers.
The front doors swung open as Rafael rolled his wheelchair in, his commanding presence filling the opulent foyer. James trailed behind, but Rafael waved him off— this was personal. Clara appeared almost immediately, her uniform crisp, her face a mask of composed efficiency. But Rafael saw the flicker in her eyes, the subtle tension in her posture. He wanted to lunge, to grab her by the shoulders and demand why she’d hidden her relation to Mirabel, why she’d played sister to him while weaving deceit. But no—he was a puppet master himself. Better to play crafty, to lure out the traps.
Instead, he forced a smile, one that didn’t reach his steel eyes, his dark wavy hair slightly disheveled from the emotional ride. "Clara," he said smoothly, his voice laced with feigned casualness. "Good to see you. Where’s Eliana? I need to speak with her."
Clara stiffened visibly, her hands clasping in front of her like a shield. She swallowed, her gaze darting away for a split second before meeting his. "Mr. Vexley... Eliana left the house earlier. No one knows where she went. She just... vanished."
The words hung heavy, a cliffhanger in the air, as Rafael’s smile faltered, his heartbreak deepening into a chasm of suspicion and pain.