<h4>Chapter 17: The Billionaire’s Offer</h4>


    The tension in Rafael Vexley’s luxurious living room felt like a thick nket pressing down on everyone. The sharp smell of coffee mixed with something sour—fear. Eliana Bet knelt on the cold marble floor, her slender fingers trembling slightly as she gathered the jagged shards of the shattered porcin cup. Each piece glinted under the chandelier’s light, catching prisms of color that danced mockingly across her navy blue dress. Her heart thudded, but her face remained a mask of determination, her brown eyes focused on the task despite the storm brewing in her chest.


    A soft rustle pulled her attention. The young maid Rafael had thrown the cup at, slipped back into the room. She knelt beside Eliana, her face pale, her small hands moving quickly to gather thest fragments. Her name tag read "ra," but her wide, frightened eyes said more. She leaned in, whispering so quietly it was almost lost. "You don’t have to do this," she said, her voice trembling. "He’s... he’s not always like this."


    Eliana offered a small, reassuring smile, though her stomach churned. "It’s okay. I’ve got it." Her voice was soft but steady, a quiet strength that belied the uncertainty gnawing at her. Together, they swept the shards into a small pile, the clinking of porcin a stark contrast to the oppressive silence of the room.


    From his wheelchair at the center of the space, Rafael’s voice cut through the silence. "Are you done ying maid, Miss Bet? Or do you need an audience for your charity work?" His tone dripped with sarcasm, each wordced with a venom that made ra flinch. He sat tall despite his supposed frailty, his dark wavy hair falling over his forehead, his steel-grey eyes—clouded, or so it seemed—fixed in her direction. His crisp ck suit was immacte, a stark contrast to the chaos he’d just unleashed.


    Eliana rose, brushing her hands on her dress, and met his gaze, refusing to cower. "I’m done, Mr. Vexley. What do you need now?" Her voice held a calm defiance, though her pulse raced.


    Rafael’s lips curled into a smirk, cold and calcting. "Push me to my room. And be quick about it. I don’t have all day for your dawdling."


    Eliana hesitated, her eyes flicking to ra, who gave a subtle nod toward a hallway beyond the living room. "His room’s that way," ra murmured, her voice barely a breath. "I’ll show you."


    Eliana stepped behind the wheelchair, her hands gripping the handles tightly. The metal was cool under her palms, and the weight of Rafael’s presence was heavier still. She pushed forward, the wheels gliding smoothly over the polished floor, while ra led the way, her footsteps quick and nervous. The hallway stretched endlessly, its walls adorned with abstract paintings in muted golds and blues, their shapes swirling like trapped emotions. Crystal sconces formed soft light, illuminating the path to a pair of double doors carved with intricate patterns of vines and roses.


    ra paused at the doors, her hand hovering over the handle. "This is it," she said softly, her eyes darting to Rafael, who remained silent, his jaw tight. She pushed the doors open, revealing a room that was both breathtaking and austere. A massive four-poster bed dominated the space, its dark wood gleaming under the soft glow of a chandelier. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the estate’s sprawling gardens, where roses bloomed in fiery reds and delicate whites. A mahogany desk sat in one corner, strewn with papers and a sleekptop, while a leather armchair faced a firece that crackled faintly, its warmth doing little to soften the room’s cold grandeur.


    ra gave Eliana a fleeting, sympathetic nce before slipping out, the doors closing with a soft click that echoed like a warning. Eliana stood behind Rafael, her hands still on the wheelchair, her heart pounding in the sudden silence. The room felt like a cage, beautiful but suffocating, and Rafael’s presence filled it like a storm waiting to break.


    "Come closer," Rafael said abruptly, his voice low andmanding. He tilted his head slightly, as if sensing her hesitation. "I want to know what you look like."


    Eliana’s brow furrowed, her fingers tightening on the wheelchair. "What?"


    "I’m blind, Miss Bet," he said, his toneced with mockery, though his expression remained unreadable. "I see with my hands. Let me feel your face."


    Her breath caught, a flush creeping up her neck. The request felt invasive, almost intimate, and yet there was something in his voice—a challenge, perhaps, or a test. She stepped around the wheelchair, her movements slow, her worn dress brushing against her legs. Standing before him, she felt exposed, her heart a frantic drumbeat. Rafael’s hands, long and elegant, reached out, hovering in the air as if waiting for permission.


    "Fine," she said, her voice only a whisper. She leaned forward slightly, her curls falling over her shoulders, and closed her eyes as his fingers brushed her cheek. His touch was surprisingly gentle, tracing the curve of her jaw, the soft slope of her cheekbone, the fullness of her lips. His hands moved to her arms, his fingers grazing the thin fabric of her sleeves, mapping her slender frame with a precision that felt almost clinical. Eliana’s skin prickled, a mix of difort and curiosity swirling in her chest. She opened her eyes, meeting his clouded gaze, and for a moment, she swore she saw a flicker of something—awareness, perhaps, or calction.


    Rafael leaned back, his hands falling to hisp. "You’ll do," he said nonchntly, his voice devoid of warmth.


    Eliana blinked, confusion knitting her brow. "What does that mean?"


    He smirked, a slow, dangerous curve of his lips. "It means, Miss Bet, that I have an offer for you." He paused, letting the silence stretch, his grey eyes fixed on her as if he could see every thought racing through her mind. "Bear me a child. In exchange, I’ll give you a fortune—enough to fix that crumbling life of yours. A new house, cars, connections perhaps. No more scraping by."


    The words hit her like a p, stealing the air from her lungs. Her mouth fell open, her eyes wide with shock. "What?" she choked out, her voice trembling with disbelief. "Are you serious?"


    "Deadly," Rafael replied, his tone cool and unyielding. "I need an heir. It’s obvious you need money. It’s a simple transaction."


    Eliana’s hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. "I’m not a gold digger," she snapped, her voice rising with a mix of anger and humiliation. "And I’m definitely not a prostitute."


    Rafael raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "No? Then what are you, Miss Bet? A saint? A martyr? You’re here, in my house, because you need this job. Don’t pretend you’re above temptation."


    Her cheeks burned, her heart pounding so loudly she thought it might burst. "I’m engaged," she said, her voice shaking but firm. "To someone who actually cares about me. Not that you’d understand what that means."


    Rafael’sugh was sharp, cutting. "Engaged? To that boy who’s probably cheating on you as we speak? Oh, don’t look so shocked. I know his type. Jason Asher, isn’t it? Spoiled, entitled, Hazel eyes and a smile that fools everyone—except me."


    Eliana froze, her breath hitching. How did he know about Jason? Her mind raced, but her anger surged hotter. "You don’t know anything about me or him," she spat, stepping back. "I’m not your pawn, and I’m not for sale."


    She turned on her heel, her curls bouncing as she stormed toward the double doors. Her hands shook as she yanked them open, the hinges groaning under her force. Rafael’s voice followed her, calm and mocking. "Run all you want, Miss Bet. But you’ll be back. Poverty has a way of breaking even the proudest hearts."


    Eliana didn’t look back. Her footsteps echoed down the hallway, each one a deration of defiance. Her heart ached, not just from Rafael’s cruel offer but from the seed of doubt he’d nted about Jason. She pushed it down, refusing to let it take root. She was Eliana Bet, and she’d faced worse than a cold-hearted billionaire. But as she stepped out into the blinding sunlight, the weight of his words clung to her like a shadow, whispering that her world was about to unravel.