His Bride in Chains-Chapter 149: Cemented Lies

In the sterile glow of the hospital lobby, where the air hung heavy with the sharp scent of antiseptic and the muffled echoes of distant footsteps, the group stood frozen in a tableau of shattering grief. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like a swarm of indifferent insects, brightening the scuffed linoleum floors. Plastic chairs lined the walls, occupied by a scattering of weary souls— an elderly man clutching a rosary, a young mother rocking a fussy infant— but none paid heed to the drama unfolding at the front desk. Nurse Reyes, with her sharp features and knowing eyes, sat composed behind the counter, her fingers still poised over the keyboard as if the weight of her words hadn’t just cleaved through the hearts of those before her.

James felt his world tilt on its axis. His heart, that steadfast organ that had weathered countless storms in service to his employer, now splintered into jagged halves, each beat a painful reminder of the void opening within him. Eliana— sweet, resilient Eliana, who had brought a flicker of light into their shadowed lives— gone? It couldn’t be. His hands, usually steady and capable, trembled as he gripped the edge of the desk, his fingers turning red. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, and his breath came in ragged gasps, as if the air itself had turned toxic.

"Nurse Reyes," James stammered, his voice cracking like brittle glass underfoot, frantic desperation etching deep lines into his face. He leaned forward, his eyes wide and pleading, searching her expression for any hint of error, any crack in the facade of certainty. "Are you... are you absolutely sure it’s Eliana Bennett? Please, double-check. Maybe there’s a mistake— a mix-up in the records, or another patient with a similar name. It happens, right? Hospitals are busy places. Just... tell me you’re not one hundred percent certain."

Nurse Reyes met his gaze steadily, her dark hair pulled back in a no-nonsense bun that accentuated the firmness of her jaw. She nodded slowly, her voice calm and unwavering, laced with a professional sympathy that did little to soften the blow. "I’m afraid I am one hundred percent sure, sir. The records are clear. Eliana Bennett, age twenty-four, admitted six days ago after the accident on Elm and Broad. Brought in by Mr. Henry Jackson, who identified her at the scene. No room for doubt here."

James’s breath hitched, a sob building in his throat as the finality of her words sank in. But then, as if to drive the nail deeper, Nurse Reyes continued, her tone gentle yet inexorable. "And to confirm, the patient was pregnant— about eight weeks along, from what the initial scans showed. That’s documented in her file as well. I’m so sorry, but there’s no mistake."

The mention of the pregnancy— Eliana’s unborn child, the tiny life that had symbolized hope amid the chaos— was the final fracture. James’s vision blurred as hot tears welled up, spilling over his lashes and tracing salty paths down his weathered cheeks. He didn’t bother wiping them away; they came unbidden, a torrent of sorrow that mirrored the storm raging inside him. His shoulders shook, and he pressed a hand to his mouth to stifle a gasp, the grief twisting his features into a mask of raw anguish. Eliana had been more than just Rafael’s caregiver and girlfriend; she’d become a beacon of kindness in their fractured world. And now, she and her child were ashes, scattered to the winds.

"Oh, God," James whispered through his tears, his voice muffled and broken, turning slightly to glance at Rafael, who sat rigid in his wheelchair, his athletic frame tensed like a coiled spring. "Mr. Vexley... it’s... it’s true. The baby... she was carrying your..."

Rafael Vexley, the billionaire recluse whose steel eyes, now burned with a mix of heartbreak and fury, gripped the arms of his wheelchair until his veins stood out like cords on his chiseled forearms. His dark hair fell slightly askew, and his crisp designer suit seemed to hang on him like a shroud. The facade of blindness and paralysis he maintained to unmask the vipers in his life felt heavier than ever, a cruel irony in this moment of genuine vulnerability. He didn’t feel like pretending now. Anger bubbled up from the depths of his soul, a scorching rage that warred with the icy grip of despair. Why? Why had fate dealt this hand? His mind raced back to Eliana— her slender form, her long curly black hair flowing like midnight waves, her full pink lips curving into that hopeful smile that had begun to melt his icy barriers.

"Why?" Rafael’s voice erupted in a heartbreaking roar, laced with anger that echoed through the lobby, drawing startled glances from the nearby visitors. He slammed a fist against the wheelchair’s armrest, the metallic thud punctuating his words like a gavel. "Why the hell was she cremated? Who gave that order?! She deserved better— a proper farewell, a chance for us to say goodbye! This can’t be how it ends! This has to be an elaborate lie!"

Nurse Reyes didn’t flinch at his outburst; instead, she leaned back slightly, her eyes softening with what appeared to be genuine empathy, though a flicker of something unreadable danced in their depths. She folded her hands on the desk, her name tag catching the light as she responded immediately, her voice steady and factual. "The order came from her next of kin, Mr. Vexley. Eliana’s father and her boyfriend, Henry Jackson, signed off on it yesterday evening, right after she passed. They were adamant— said it was her wish, something about not wanting to burden anyone with a prolonged goodbye. The cremation was handled this morning, as per their instructions. I’m truly sorry; hospital policy requires us to follow the family’s directives in these matters."

Rafael’s world narrowed to a pinpoint, the nurse’s words reverberating in his ears like a death sentence. Her father— the kindly but sickly man who’d raised her alone after her mother abandoned them— and Henry? Boyfriend? The pieces clicked into place with agonizing clarity: Henry Jackson again? So he was truly her boyfriend? But Eliana had been his— theirs— in heart and soul, or so he’d believed. The betrayal, the loss, it all coalesced into a vise around his chest. So it was true. Eliana was truly dead. Gone. Cremated. No body to mourn, no grave to visit, just emptiness.

"I... I can’t believe this," Rafael murmured, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper, the anger giving way to a profound, soul-crushing sorrow. His piercing eyes, no longer to hiding behind the pretense of cloudiness, filled with unshed tears once more, but this time they didn’t fall— they burned, searing his vision. "Her father... and Henry? Boyfriend? She... she was mine. Mine. How could they... how could this happen?"

James, still weeping openly, reached out a tentative hand toward Rafael’s shoulder, his own tears streaming unchecked. "Mr. Vexley, breathe. We’ll... we’ll figure this out. Maybe there’s more to it. Henry... We need to find him, talk to him."

Behind them, Sarai and Bianca Monroe hovered like elegant specters. Sarai’s light brown skin flushed with barely concealed excitement, her sharp green eyes glinting as she exchanged a subtle glance with her sister. Bianca, ever the elder instigator, the one who’d taught Sarai every wicked trick in their arsenal, placed a manicured hand on Sarai’s arm, squeezing lightly in silent celebration. They were inseparable, bound by blood and malice, their envy of Eliana’s simple goodness fueling their every scheme.

"Oh, Rafael," Bianca cooed, her voice a silken thread of faux concern, stepping closer with a dramatic sigh that rustled her expensive silk blouse. She dabbed at her dry eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief, her lips curving into what she hoped passed for a sympathetic pout. "This is just devastating. Eliana’s father and that Henry fellow— how heartless to cremate her so quickly. But perhaps they knew what she wanted. We must respect that, darling. Though, if it were me, I’d have insisted on a grand funeral. Something befitting... well, someone like her."

Sarai nodded vigorously, her diamond earrings sparkling like tiny stars under the lights, her fierce beauty twisted into a mask of sorrow that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She let out a small, theatrical sniffle, her voice trembling artfully. "Absolutely, sis. Poor Eliana— pregnant and all. Who would have thought? And Henry as her boyfriend? Gosh, she never mentioned him to me, we were still friends after all. Makes you wonder what secrets she was keeping. But Rafael, you look positively ghostly. Are you alright? We wouldn’t want you fainting on us now."

But Rafael barely heard them. A sudden, vise-like pain gripped his chest, as if an invisible hand had reached inside and squeezed his heart with merciless force. The lobby spun around him— the white walls blurring into a vortex, the beeps of monitors fading into a distant hum. His breath shortened, coming in shallow pants, and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead. The emotional scars he’d buried deep all resurfaced in a tidal wave, amplified by this unbearable loss. Eliana, his light in the darkness, extinguished. The baby, their future, erased.

"I... I can’t..." Rafael gasped, his voice a ragged whisper, his hands clutching at his chest as if to hold his fracturing heart together. His grey eyes fluttered, the pretense of cloudiness forgotten in the grip of agony.

James whirled around, alarm flashing across his tear-streaked face. "Mr. Vexley? Rafael! What’s wrong?"

Bianca and Sarai froze, their triumphant smirks faltering for a split second before morphing into real concern. "Oh no!" Sarai exclaimed, her voice pitching higher. "He’s fainting! Nurse, help!"

Nurse Reyes rose quickly from her seat, her brisk stride carrying her around the desk. "Sir? Can you hear me?"

But it was too late. Before anyone could react— before James could reach him, before the sisters could catch him— Rafael Vexley slumped forward in his wheelchair, his tall frame collapsing like a

rock. His hair fell over his forehead, and his piercing eyes closed, sealing away the storm of heartbreak and anger. The lobby erupted into controlled chaos as Nurse Reyes called for assistance, but for Rafael, the world had gone mercifully black, a temporary escape from the chains of loss that bound him tighter than ever.