His Bride in Chains-Chapter 139: Confrontations

James arrived moments later, his face etched with the same weariness that mirrored Rafael’s. The loyal assistant nodded, no questions asked, as they strode out into the bustling city streets. The drive to the Vexley estate was a blur of honking traffic and flashing lights, the opulent mansion looming on the horizon like a gilded cage. Sprawling across acres of manicured lawns, it was divided into sections—a testament to the fractured family within. Rafael’s private wing was a fortress of solitude, but tonight, he bypassed it entirely, wheeling his chair with purposeful rolls toward the grand central section where his father, Mirabel, and her spoiled offsprings resided.

The evening sun dipped low, creating long shadows across the marble foyer as Rafael and James pushed through the ornate double doors. The air inside was perfumed with fresh flowers and underlying tension, the kind that simmered in families built on betrayal. Crystal chandeliers twinkled overhead, illuminating priceless art on the walls, but the beauty felt hollow, a facade much like Rafael’s own deceptions.

In the lavish living room, Mirabel Vexley lounged on a velvet chaise, her elegant form draped in silk and pearls, her smooth brown skin flawless under the soft lighting. Her immaculately styled hair framed a face that could shift from charming to chilling in an instant. Beside her, her children—Caleb, the 20-year-old tech whiz kid with his slicked-back hair and designer sneakers, and Celina, the 18-year-old fashionista with her glossy lips and perfectly manicured nails—sprawled on plush sofas, scrolling through their phones with entitled boredom. The room hummed with low conversation, but it froze the moment Rafael entered, his commanding presence sucking the air from the space.

Mirabel’s icy gaze snapped up, her lips curling into a sneer. She set down her crystal glass of wine with a deliberate clink, rising to her full height in her heels, exuding the aura of a queen defending her throne. "Rafael," she spat, her voice dripping with venom. "What in God’s name are you doing here? This is your father’s section of the house—our private sanctuary. You have no right to barge in like some common intruder."

Rafael stopped in the center of the room, his steel eyes locking onto hers with unyielding intensity. James hovered by the door, a silent sentinel. "Private sanctuary? That’s rich, coming from you, Mirabel.

Mirabel stepped forward, heels silent on the marble, eyes flashing like flint. She didn’t waste breath on pleasantries. "Where is my brother?" she demanded, voice smooth and cold. "And why are you tormenting me, Rafael? What have you done to Victor?"

Rafael’s shock rippled through him like a jolt, his chiseled jaw tightening. How dare she play the victim? After all the plots, the attempts on his life, the endless manipulations. "Me? Tormenting you? You’ve got some nerve, Mirabel. You’ve been the puppet master since the day you slithered into this family. Trying to kill me, poisoning my world with your greed. And now, you’ve taken it too far."

Mirabel’s laugh was brittle, theatrically wounded; she pressed a hand to her chest as if he’d lashed her. "Oh, spare me the moral high ground," she hissed. "I asked you a question. Where is Victor? What did you do to him?" Her tone left no room for deflection—only accusation and the cold demand for an answer.

He rolled his chair closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl, laced with the raw emotion he’d buried for so long. "Where is Eliana? Tell me, and I’ll help you find Victor. I’ll help bring him to you, make this all go away. But I need to know she’s safe."

Mirabel threw her head back and laughed again, a cold, tinkling sound that sent chills down the spine. She crossed her arms, her pearls glinting like frozen tears. "Eliana? Your little caregiver? Why on earth would I know where she’s scampered off to? Last I heard, she was just another poor soul you toyed with and discarded. Perhaps she finally wised up and ran from your cold, calculating heart."

From the sofa, Caleb smirked, leaning forward with a smug grin, his voice laced with passive-aggressive glee. "Yeah, bro. Maybe she found someone who isn’t a psychopath for fun. Or hey, perhaps she’s off spending that hush money you probably threw at her."

Celina chimed in, her high-pitched giggle cutting through the tension like a brittle knife. She twirled a strand of her perfectly highlighted hair, her eyes sparkling with malice. "Totally. I mean, who wouldn’t bail on a recluse like you? Blind, paralyzed, bitter—oh wait, am I talking too much brother? So dramatic. No wonder she ghosted you. Classic Rafael move: push everyone away and then whine when they’re gone."

Rafael’s lips curved into a bitter laugh of his own, though it held no humor, only a sharp edge that could cut glass. He turned back to Mirabel, his gaze piercing through her facade but careful enough for her not to notice he could see her. "Oh, drop the act, Mirabel. We both know you’ve been pulling the strings. Working with Eliana and Clara to harm me, just like you’ve always done. Poisoning my life from the shadows, using them as your tools. It’s over. I see through you."

Mirabel’s laughter returned, richer this time, laced with genuine amusement at his audacity. She shook her head, her elegant features twisting into a mask of pity. "See through me? You’re delusional, Rafael. Absolutely delusional. You think I’d stoop to collaborating with your hired help? Please. I have empires to run, not petty games with the likes of her. You’re unraveling, dear stepson. Perhaps all that uptightness has finally cracked your mind."

Rafael smirked, a predatory glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his voice a velvet threat wrapped in certainty. "Delusional? Hardly. I know the truth, Mirabel. And I have proof. Eliana and Clara—they’re your daughters. Flesh and blood you abandoned for this gilded cage. So drop the charade. Tell me where she is."

Mirabel’s face, so composed and icy moments before, crumpled into a frown of genuine confusion. Her brows furrowed, her full lips parting in shock as the color drained slightly from her cheeks. The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging like a storm cloud ready to burst.