Chapter 107: Fear of the Unknown
The penthouse was cloaked in a velvet hush, the kind of silence that pressed in too close, too heavy, until even the faint hum of the city below sounded distant, unreal. Beyond the wall of glass, the skyline glittered with restless neon and flickering headlights, a constellation of human lives moving on, indifferent to her world unraveling.
Eliana lay restless on the guest bed, cocooned in the softness of a duvet that did little to shield her from the storm in her chest. Sleep refused her—slipping away every time she thought she might catch it, like a cruel phantom mocking her exhaustion. Her brown eyes tracked the ceiling, following the wavering shadows that the moonlight painted through the sheer curtains. Each second was punctuated by the metronome-like tick of the clock on the nightstand, the sound gnawing at her nerves, magnifying the ache that spread like wildfire in her chest.
Her thoughts ran in vicious circles. Rafael’s name, his face, the sharp finality of his silence. The blocked number. The unanswered texts. The realization—no, the stab of it—that the man who had once looked at her like she was his whole world had turned away, sealing her out. A hollow throb pressed behind her ribs until she instinctively placed a trembling hand over her abdomen, her palm resting protectively where new life stirred. Fragile. Unasked for. And yet everything.
"Oh, little one," she breathed into the darkness, her voice breaking against the stillness. "What if he never forgives us? What if I’ve already ruined everything?"
Tears welled hot, spilling over before she could blink them back. They carved slow, burning trails down her cheeks, soaking into the pillow. She shifted restlessly, twisting the sheets into knots around her legs, the fabric clinging like chains she couldn’t tear off.
Memories rose, merciless and vivid: Rafael’s storm-grey eyes softened by love, a gaze that once undid her with a glance—now clouded with betrayal, cutting her down with cold precision. The warmth of his arms, the tenderness behind his power, it was all shattered by her fears. Fear of him finding out about her relationship with his stepmother. Fear of her mother’s shadow creeping back into her life. Fear of this child, this future, tying them in knots they couldn’t untangle. She let her fears ruin everything.
Three days. She had vanished for three long days, hiding, suffocating in confusion and shame. But those days had stretched into something larger—a canyon that now yawned between them, threatening to swallow her whole if she didn’t bridge it. But how? How did you claw back what you had destroyed with your own trembling hands?
The night stretched on endlessly, the hours thick and airless. By the time the faintest fingers of dawn began to bleed over the horizon, painting the edges of the curtains in pale gold, Eliana knew she couldn’t lie still a second longer.
She slipped from the bed, her body trembling with a decision she hadn’t yet fully named. Bare feet touched the cool marble, sending a shiver up her spine as she padded quietly toward the bathroom.
And somewhere inside her chest, beneath the regret, the fear, and the guilt, something else stirred—something that refused to let her surrender.
The mirror reflected a woman transformed by exhaustion—her soft face pale, lips pressed into a thin line of determination, curly black hair tousled from restless hours. She splashed cold water on her face, the shock of it jolting her senses awake. "You have to do this," she murmured to her reflection, her voice laced with quiet strength. "For us. For him." With deliberate care, she combed through her curls, twisting them into a neat bun that accentuated her natural elegance despite the worn-out modesty of her clothes. She chose a simple blouse and skirt from her meager belongings, the fabric slightly faded but clean, and slung her handbag over her shoulder. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of the room, the early morning light creating a soft glow in the hallway.
To her astonishment, the aroma of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon wafted from the kitchen. Henry was already there, tall and handsome in a crisp shirt and jeans, his sharp features softened by a warm smile as he flipped eggs on the stove. His warm eyes lit up when he saw her. "Morning, Eliana. Figured you’d be up early. Couldn’t sleep a wink, huh?"
She blinked, her expressive eyes widening in surprise. "Henry? You’re up already? And... breakfast? You didn’t have to—"
He chuckled lightly, plating the food with the precision of an aspiring doctor who knew the value of routine. "Hey, I know you better than you think. Nerves and excitement like yours? They’d keep anyone tossing all night. I got up even earlier, got dressed, and thought, ’She’s going to need fuel for this battle.’ Sit down. Eggs, toast, bacon—the works. Can’t go to war on an empty stomach."
Eliana hesitated, her heart swelling with gratitude for this kind, reserved man who’d been her anchor. She slid onto a stool at the island counter, the warmth of the meal contrasting the chill of her anxiety. "War? It feels more like walking into a lion’s den. What if he won’t listen? What if—"
Henry set the plate in front of her, his ambitious drive shining through in his encouraging tone. "Eat first, worry second. Rafael’s a tough nut, but once he hears what you have to say—the truth about those three days, the fear, the baby—he’ll come around. He’s hurting, just like you. But you? You’re resilient, Eliana. That quiet strength of yours? It’s going to win the day. Now, dig in."
She managed a small smile, picking up her fork despite the knot in her stomach. "You’re too good to me, Henry. Always have been, even back in college. I don’t deserve—"
"None of that," he interrupted gently, sitting across from her with his own plate. "You deserve everything good. And hey, if this doesn’t work, we’ll figure out Plan B. But trust me, showing up? That’s half the battle. Eat up—we’ve got a drive ahead."
The breakfast was simple yet comforting, the conversation light as Henry shared a funny story from school to ease her tension. "Remember that professor who insisted on calling everyone ’future healers’? One day, a guy in class sneezed during a lecture, and the prof goes, ’Ah, a future healer expelling demons!’ We lost it." Eliana laughed softly, the sound a brief respite from her turmoil. By the time they finished, the sun was rising higher, creating golden hues over the city.
They headed out to Henry’s sleek SUV, the engine humming to life as they pulled into the morning traffic. Eliana sat in the passenger seat, her hands twisting in her lap, a bundle of nerves and fear coiling tighter with each passing block. The skyscrapers loomed like sentinels, Vexley Enterprises’ towering glass facade growing nearer. "Henry, my heart’s pounding so hard. What if he hates me now? What if I can’t even get the words out?"