Chapter 104: Broken Billionaire
In that suspended moment, as the words hung heavy between them like storm clouds, Rafael’s heart clenched with a desperate hope. He searched her face, praying for shock—for wide-eyed innocence, for her to gasp and demand, "What are you talking about?" The report from his investigators had painted a picture of abandonment: Mirabel leaving Eliana at five years old, vanishing into a life of luxury without a backward glance. If Eliana truly didn’t know, if she was as much a victim as he was... maybe he could forgive. Maybe he could overlook the blood tie to his sworn enemy, the woman who had poisoned his family from within. His steel eyes, hidden behind the pretense of clouds, bored into her, willing her to prove him wrong. The café’s hum faded to a distant buzz; all that existed was this fragile thread of possibility.
But Eliana’s reaction shattered it. Her full lips parted in stunned surprise, and the words tumbled out before she could stop them: "You... you found out already?"
The world tilted for Rafael. It was as if a dagger had plunged straight into his chest, twisting with merciless precision. Hurt exploded within him, raw and irreparable, flooding his veins like poison. She knew. All this time, she’d known about Mirabel—her mother, his stepmother, the architect of so much betrayal in his life. The woman who had married his father for wealth, who had schemed and manipulated, who had even been complicit in the attempts on his own life. And Eliana, his Eliana—the one person who’d begun to crack his armored heart—had been in on it? Deceiving him, playing him like a fool while he bared his soul? His hands trembled beneath the table, but outwardly, he remained the picture of calm, his voice steady as steel. The loneliness that had gnawed at him for years now roared back, amplified by this ultimate betrayal.
"Rafael, please," Eliana pleaded, tears welling in her expressive eyes, spilling over onto her warm brown cheeks. Her voice cracked with emotion, a desperate sob catching in her throat. "Let me explain. It’s not what you think. I—"
"Explain?" Rafael interrupted, his tone deceptively soft, but laced with venom that made her flinch. He straightened in his wheelchair, every movement deliberate, like a king dismissing a traitor from his court. "There’s nothing to explain, Eliana. You’ve been on her side all along, haven’t you? Mirabel’s little puppet, sent to finish what she started. I should have known. But I’m done. Never appear before me again. I’m letting you go only because... because I once loved you. But if I see you—anywhere near me, my home, my life—I’ll kill you myself. And trust me, no one will ever find your body."
The threat hung in the air like a death sentence, delivered with chilling calmness that sent shivers down her spine. Eliana’s world crumbled; she burst into full sobs, her slender shoulders shaking as tears streamed down her face, blurring her vision. The café’s patrons shifted uncomfortably, whispers rippling through the room like waves, but she didn’t care. "Rafael, no! Please, calm down and listen to me. You’re misunderstanding everything. I have something important to tell you—something that changes it all. I never knew who Mirabel was until she... until she found me recently. I swear, I didn’t—"
He cut her off with a sharp wave of his hand, his face a mask of unyielding resolve. Without another word, Rafael gripped the wheels of his chair and rolled backward, the soft whir of the mechanism cutting through the tension like a knife. James, who had been watching from his nearby table like a loyal hawk, folded his newspaper with crisp efficiency and rose, his stoic face betraying nothing as he fell into step behind his employer. The door chime rang again as Rafael pushed through, the autumn light casting long shadows on the sidewalk.
Eliana scrambled to her feet, knocking over her chair in her haste. "Rafael, wait! Just listen—please!" she cried, her voice breaking as she ran after him, curls flying wildly, her modest skirt fluttering in the breeze. Tears blinded her, but she reached out, desperate to grab his arm, to make him see the truth.
He paused at the curb, his back to her, as James opened the door to the black luxury sedan. Rafael’s voice was a low growl, laced with finality. "Don’t follow me, Eliana. Or you’ll regret it more than you already do."
With that, he allowed James to assist him into the vehicle, the door slamming shut like the closing of a tomb. The engine roared to life, and the car pulled away smoothly, merging into the flow of traffic. Eliana stood there on the sidewalk, the world blurring through her sobs, her knees buckling as she collapsed against the café’s exterior wall. Heart-wrenching cries escaped her, drawing concerned stares from passersby—a street vendor paused mid-sale, a young couple exchanged worried glances. She felt utterly broken, the weight of misunderstanding crushing her spirit.
From the SUV, Henry burst out, his tall frame moving with urgent grace as he rushed to her side. "Eliana! Hey, hey—it’s okay. Come here," he murmured, wrapping his arms around her in a protective embrace. She buried her face in his shoulder, her body wracked with sobs, as he stroked her back soothingly. "What happened? Talk to me."
But Eliana could only weep, the pain too raw for words.
The sedan glided away from the curb, its tinted windows swallowing Rafael into shadows that matched the storm brewing inside him. He sat unnervingly still in the back seat, the quiet hum of the engine only amplifying the chaos in his chest.
His gaze locked on the rearview mirror, and though the world believed those grey eyes clouded and useless, they were razor-sharp now, cutting straight into the scene disappearing behind him.
Eliana.
She was folded against Henry’s chest, her body trembling, breaking, crumbling into arms that weren’t his. Arms that held her as though they had every right, as though he had ever earned that privilege. The sight was a dagger twisting cruelly in Rafael’s ribs, sharp enough to knock the air from his lungs.
Jealousy roared through him like wildfire—hot, unrelenting—only to be drowned out by the deeper ache gnawing at his soul. Betrayal. Fury. The same familiar poison that had stalked him all his life: from family who sold his trust for profit, to the greed that stole his peace, to the crash that had shattered not just his body, but the illusion that strength alone could shield him.
But this?
This was different. This wasn’t just a wound—it was obliteration. A ripping open of every scar, a cut that reached marrow-deep, where no amount of power or wealth could numb the pain. His chest tightened, like his own heart had been ripped free, hurled to the pavement, and crushed under the careless weight of a stranger’s embrace.
A single tear broke past his walls, traitorous in its escape. It burned a path down his cheek, glinting in the dim light before he crushed it away with the back of his hand. Ruthless. Efficient. As though erasing weakness was as simple as erasing moisture.
No more.
There would be no more weakness. No more reckless hope. No more trust placed in hands that could turn on him so easily. The world demanded his strength—the empires he built, the enemies who circled, the vultures who waited for a crack in the façade. And he would give it to them.
Even if it meant burying the fragile spark Eliana had once lit in him. Even if it meant turning that hope to ash.
Because Rafael Vexley did not bleed where the world could see. And if his heart was broken, then it would remain broken in silence.
As the city skyline blurred into the distance, Rafael’s mind echoed with a haunting refrain: How could love feel so much like death?