His Bride in Chains-Chapter 126: Eliana’s Integrity

His fingers dug into the armrests of his wheelchair, tendons straining, knuckles turning pale beneath the pressure. Betrayal burned in his chest, but he forced his face to remain composed—a mask as cold and sharp as steel.

"Marc," Rafael said, his voice smooth but venom threaded through every syllable. He still wore the lie of his blindness like armor. "Tell me who’s with James now. Describe them. Every detail."

Marc hesitated for half a second, his throat bobbing as he glanced toward the pastry shop window. He knew what his answer would unleash.

"It’s... your former caregiver, Eliana, sir," he finally said. "She’s... beautiful. Slender build. Warm brown skin. A soft face with full lips. Long, curly black hair, all the way down her back. She’s dressed modestly, but... she carries herself like royalty."

Rafael’s lips pressed into a thin line, the fire behind his eyes sharpening to something colder. She was here. With James.

"Enough," he snapped, cutting him off. "I get the picture. You can go wait in the car." Marc nodded and left. Rafael immediately pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen. He unblocked Eliana’s number—something he’d done in a fit of rage weeks ago—and used his AI assistant to dial her. "Call Eliana Bennett," he commanded the device, his voice low and furious.

Inside the shop, Eliana had just sat down across from James, her hands trembling as she folded them on the table. The aroma of buttery pastries and fresh coffee filled the air, a stark contrast to the storm brewing in her heart.

"James," she began, her voice soft but urgent, leaning forward. "Thank you for meeting me. I... I need to know about Rafael. Is he alright? He hasn’t spoken to me in weeks so I don’t know how he’s fairing. What happened to him? Please, tell me everything."

James adjusted his glasses, his expression sympathetic. "Eliana, he’s... not himself lately. Closed off, more suspicious than ever. The revelation about your link to Mirabel, the fight you both had, it’s all weighing on him. But why didn’t you just come clean to him when you had the chance? Tell him the truth about everything? All of this could have been avoided."

Eliana’s eyes misted, her emotional resilience cracking. "I tried, James. I really did. It was complicated—my past, his fear of betrayals. I was scared he’d push me away. And now..."

Her phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up with Rafael’s name. Her heart leaped, a mix of joy and dread flooding her. "Oh my God," she exclaimed, her voice rising in excitement. "It’s him! Rafael’s calling!"

James’s eyes widened. "What? Now?"

She snatched up the phone, answering hurriedly. "Rafael? Is that you? I’ve been so worried. I’m so sorry for—"

Rafael’s voice cut through like a blade, no greeting, no warmth. "Is it James’s turn now, Eliana? Was I not enough? That new boyfriend of yours not satisfying? So you had to lure James out too, seduce him like you did me?"

Eliana froze, her honey eyes widening in disbelief. The words hit like a slap, echoing in the quiet shop. After almost a month of silence, of heartache and longing, this was how he greeted her? Her chest tightened, tears welling. "What... what did you just say?" she whispered, her voice breaking.

"You heard me," Rafael snarled, his sarcasm dripping. "Playing the innocent caregiver, batting those eyes. But I see through it now. You’re just after the next mark. What is it you’re really after? My empire’s secrets... so you can lay them at Mirabel’s feet like some loyal dog?"

To James’s shock—and Rafael’s, on the other end—Eliana’s quiet strength erupted. She stood abruptly, her chair scraping loudly, drawing stares from nearby patrons. "Shut the hell up, Rafael!" she yelled into the phone, her voice trembling with raw emotion. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but her posture was defiant, her curly hair framing a face flushed with righteous anger. "You can call me whatever names you want—a liar, tell me how much I hurt you, whatever poisons your mind. You can push me around like I’m trash, discard me when it suits you. But you do not get to mess with my integrity! That’s all I have left in this world—the one thing no one can take from me!"

James reached out, stunned. "Eliana, wait—"

She turned to him, still holding the phone to her ear, her words directed at both men. "James, I came here with something important to tell Rafael. Something that could change everything. But now? He doesn’t deserve to know. He wouldn’t believe me anyway—he already sees me as some prostitute, some schemer. I’m done begging, done chasing a man who thinks so little of me!"

Rafael’s voice crackled through the speaker, his shock evident. "Eliana, what are you—"

"I’m done!" she cried, her voice cracking with sobs. The shop fell silent, the barista pausing mid-pour, customers whispering. Her emotional wounds, long hidden behind hopeful smiles, poured out. "Take care of yourself, James. And that pig-headed fool Rafael—tell him to wallow in his suspicions alone. I won’t appear before him again. Ever!"

With that, she hung up, slamming her fist on the table before grabbing her bag. Tears blurred her vision as she stormed out, the bell above the door jingling mockingly. Outside, the city buzzed on, indifferent to her shattered heart. She hailed another cab, collapsing into the seat, her body shaking with sobs. "Why does it hurt so much?" she whispered to herself, clutching her chest. "I thought love was supposed to heal, not destroy. Why does my love always have to hurt so much?"

Back in his shadowed hiding spot, Rafael sat utterly still, the phone cold and lifeless in his hand. The call had ended minutes ago, but her voice lingered like smoke in the air, refusing to fade. Each word she’d spoken seemed to crawl beneath his skin, clawing at the walls he’d spent years fortifying around his heart.

For the first time in weeks, a different kind of silence filled him—doubt. Not about her, but about himself. About the possibility that he might not know the full story... or worse, that he’d misjudged her. That single crack in his certainty felt like a knife slipping between old scars.

He inhaled sharply, his chest tightening against the weight pressing down on him. ’Don’t be a fool’, he told himself, but the words rang hollow. He could still hear her—soft, trembling, unguarded. And for a dangerous heartbeat, it sounded like the truth.

The car door clicked softly. Marc reappeared, shifting uneasily beside him, his presence cutting through the fog of Rafael’s spiraling thoughts.

"Sir?" Marc’s voice was cautious, as though he’d stepped into the blast radius of a storm he couldn’t predict. "Eliana just stormed out of the shop. What now?"

Rafael didn’t answer immediately. His eyes, cold and storm-dark, followed the faint silhouette of her retreating cab in the distance. A thousand instincts warred inside him—anger, longing, suspicion, something dangerously close to hope.

Rafael removed his sunglasses, his steel-grey eyes stormy. "Now... I... I don’t know."

Inside, James stared at his coffee, the steam rising like forgotten dreams. The drama had exploded in moments, leaving echoes of pain and regret in its wake. The city, with its secrets, held its breath once more.