<h4>Chapter 26: Waiting</h4>


    It waste afternoon. The sun slipped through the grimy window of Eliana Bet’s tiny apartment. The room smelled of damp wood mixed with the faint sting of hospital antiseptic still clinging to her worn-out cardigan. Eliana stood in the center of her cramped living room, a half-packed suitcase open on the sagging couch. Her slender fingers trembled as she folded a faded blue dress, its hem frayed from months of wear. Her eyes, were dulled by exhaustion and the seriousness of Rafael Vexley’s ultimatum. She’d spent the morning after the visit to Rafael’s house, at the hospital, sitting by her father’s bedside, watching his chest rise and fall withbored breaths.


    Frank Bet looked so fragile lying there, his thin, weathered face almost blending into the crisp white sheets. His dark eyes, usually so warm and bright, flickered with pain he was trying so hard to hide. Eliana wanted to tell him everything—how Rafael was tearing her world apart with his threats and demands, how scared and lost she felt—but the words refused toe out. They stuck in her throat like stones.


    The steady beeping of the heart monitor filled the room, each sharp sound like a warning that his time was running out. He turned his tired eyes to her and gave a small, shaky smile. "Don’t worry about me, Ellie," he rasped, his voice rough but still carrying that gentle warmth. "Just keep that smile of yours. It’s all I need."


    She tried to smile back, but her lips trembled as tears burned at the corners of her eyes. She squeezed his hand, holding on a little longer before whispering that she’d visit again soon. As she walked out of the room, the silence she’d left behind felt heavier than ever, pressing down on her chest with every step.


    Back in her tiny apartment, Eliana sank onto the edge of her creaky bed, gripping the old suitcase so tightly her hands hurt. "Damn you, Rafael Vexley," she whispered, her voice low and shaking with anger. "Damn the day I ever met you."


    Her thoughts spun out of control, dragging her back to that moment when Sarai, her so-called best friend, had suggested the job as Rafael’s caregiver. Did Sarai know what kind of monster he was? Had that perfect smile and sweet, honeyed voice been nothing but a trap to push her into this golden cage?


    Eliana’s chest tightened as anger burned in her veins. She could almost see Sarai’s smug green eyes, the way they always glinted with hidden envy, her sleek hair never out of ce, her expensive heels clicking on the floor like a predator stalking prey.


    "No," Eliana muttered under her breath, shaking her head hard. "No more thinking about her. She’s not worth it."


    She blinked back the tears threatening to fall and forced herself to focus. With shaking hands, she shoved thest of her clothes—a faded old sweater and a pair of worn jeans—into the suitcase, trying to block out everything else.


    The clock on the wall ticked past 6:00 p.m., its hands moving with agonizing slowness. The apartment was a bit dark now, the sun dipping below the horizon. Eliana stood, slinging the duffel over her shoulder, her curly ck hair spilling over her jacket. She took onest look around, her gaze lingering on a framed sunflower sketch she had made for her father when life was still good, its vibrant yellow faded to a ghostly hue. "I’ll be back," she whispered, as if the promise could anchor her to this life she was being forced to leave. She turned toward the door, heart hammering in her chest, when a sudden buzz in her pocket made her jump. She pulled out her phone, and the screen lit up with a name that made her blood run cold: <strong><i>Jason.</i></strong>


    Her breath caught, her fingers hovering over the phone. Jason Asher, her ex-fiancé, the golden boy who’d shattered her heart by sleeping with Sarai. Three weeks had passed since she’d left his mansion, her engagement ring taken away by his mother, her tears staining the driveway. He hadn’t called, hadn’t texted, hadn’t cared—until now. Her thumb hovered over the answer button, a mix of fury and curiosity warring within her. "What do you want, Jason?" she muttered, her voice barely audible. Against her better judgment, she pressed the button and held the phone to her ear.


    "Eliana?" His voice was smooth,ced with that familiar charm that had once made her heart flutter. "Hey, it’s me. I... I just wanted to check in. It’s been a while."


    Eliana’s grip tightened on the phone, her knuckles whitening. "A while?" she snapped, her voice rising with indignation.


    There was a pause, and she could almost see his hazel eyes narrowing, his blonde hair falling artfully over his forehead as he crafted his next lie. "I miss you, Ellie," he said, his tone dripping with faux sincerity. "I messed up, okay? I know that. But I’ve been thinking about us, about what we had—"


    "What we had?" Eliana cut him off, her voice trembling with rage. "What we had was a lie, Jason! You think I don’t know you were sleeping with our best friend behind my back?! You don’t get to call me now and act like you care!"


    "Ellie, please," he pleaded, his voice softening. "I’m not perfect, but neither are you. We can work this out. I know you still love me."


    He didn’t even sound surprised, let alone bother to apologize.


    Her eyes stung with tears, but she refused to let them fall. "You don’t know anything about me anymore," she said, her voice low and steely. "Don’t call me again, Jason. I’m done with you." She hung up before he could respond, her chest heaving as she tossed the phone into her pocket. The room felt smaller, the walls closing in, and for a moment, she thought she might scream. Instead, she grabbed her bag and stormed out, the door mming behind her, the echo ringing in her ears as she stepped into the chilly evening air.


    <strong>******</strong>


    Meanwhile, inside the sprawling luxury of Rafael Vexley’s mansion, the billionaire recluse sat alone in his darkened office. His wheelchair was pulled up close to his polished mahogany desk, the dim light from his deskmp spilling across the table.


    Rafael’s steel-grey eyes, cold and calcting, stared unblinking at the tablet in his hand. The screen showed a live feed from the front gate, where security guards stood watch under the pale glow of themps. The driveway was empty and silent, nothing but stillness beyond the iron bars.


    He drummed his fingers against the armrest, each tap echoing his growing impatience. His jaw clenched tight as thoughts raced through his mind. Would Elianae back to him like he ordered? Or would she dare defy him again, with that stubborn fire burning in her eyes?


    A thin smirk flickered at the corner of his lips. The thought of her resistance both irritated and intrigued him. Either way, she would learn who truly held the power.


    James stood by the door, hisnky frame shifting nervously. "Sir," he ventured, adjusting his sses, "why are you so... invested in this? In her? Tormenting Miss Bet—it doesn’t seem like you."


    Rafael’s lips curled into a sardonic smile, his gaze still locked on the tablet. "We’ve been over this, James," he drawled, his voice smooth but edged with ice. "It’s fun. She’s... entertaining. A puzzle I haven’t quite solved."


    James frowned, his brow furrowing. "But sir, she’s just a girl. She’s not like the others you’ve dealt with. She’s... naive and kind. Why make her life harder than it already is?"


    Rafael’s smile faded, his fingers pausing mid-tap. For a moment, his eyes flickered with something unreadable—regret, perhaps, or something deeper. But it was gone in an instant, reced by his usual mask of indifference. "You’re dismissed for the day, James," he said curtly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Go home."


    James hesitated for a moment before giving a small nod. His footsteps were quiet as he walked out of the office, and the soft click of the closing door left Rafael alone with his thoughts. The room fell silent, broken only by the low hum of the tablet in his hand.


    Rafael leaned back in his wheelchair, his fingers slowly tracing the smooth edge of the armrest. His steel-grey eyes stared nkly ahead as his mind began to drift. Waiting. He despised it. Every second felt like ws scraping against his skin, pulling him back to memories he’d spent years trying to bury.


    Without warning, the memory flooded in—sharp and painfully clear. He was just nine years old again, curled up in a cold hospital bed, the sharp sting of antiseptic burning his nose. Everything was darkness. An ident had stolen his sight and ripped his mother away from him in one cruel instant.


    He clenched his jaw tight, willing the memory to disappear. He wasn’t that weak, helpless boy anymore. He’d sworn he would never be that way again.


    But no matter how hard he tried to push it away, the memory refused to leave. It clung to him stubbornly, ying out in his mind like a scene he couldn’t escape.


    <i>To be continued in the next Chapter...</i>