Chapter 46: A Good Day Gone Bad

Eliana and Rafael had lingered in Frank’s hospital room for nearly four hours, trading quiet conversation and occasional laughter with the old man. She’d been grateful before, but this... this was different. Rafael hadn’t owed her a second of his time, yet he’d stayed—patient, present—for her and her father, even when the only thing tying them together on paper was an employer’s signature. By the time the sleek black SUV slid away from the hospital’s glass-and-steel facade, the afternoon light had softened into a golden haze. Eliana sat beside him in the spacious back, her arm cradled in its sling, while Rafael lounged in his wheelchair with the ease of someone unbothered by the world’s opinions. The hum of the engine filled the silence, but it wasn’t the same silence they’d shared before. Something had shifted—something unspoken, weightless yet undeniable. It hung in the air between them like the last warm breeze before winter. Eliana’s lips curved into a small, almost shy smile, but behind it, questions stirred restlessly in her mind, tumbling over one another like autumn leaves chasing the wind. Eliana turned to Rafael, her brown eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and curiosity. "You know, Mr. Vexley," she began, her voice soft but teasing, "you’re quite the actor. The way you played the humble, heartfelt philanthropist back there with my dad... it was Oscar-worthy." Rafael’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile, and then—to her utter surprise—a deep, rumbling laugh escaped him, filling the car like thunder rolling across a clear sky. It was the first time she’d heard him laugh so freely, without the sharp edge of sarcasm. He tilted his head toward her, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "An actor, am I? Well, Miss Bennett, I’ll take that as a compliment. But let me set the record straight: everything I said to your father was true. I do love hearing people laugh. It fills the darkness with light, as I told him. The only catch is... they have to do it on the inside, where no one can see." Eliana blinked, processing his words, and then she burst into laughter herself—uncontrolled, heartfelt peals that made her shoulders shake and her good hand clutch her side. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she gasped for breath. "On the inside? Oh, Rafael, that’s ridiculous! You’re impossible. How can laughter fill anything if it’s trapped inside like that?" He chuckled again, leaning back with a satisfied grin. "See? You’re laughing now, and it’s lighting up this whole car. Mission accomplished." Their laughter faded into a comfortable silence as the car wound through the city streets, but Eliana’s mind raced. She glanced at him, her expression turning thoughtful. "Speaking of missions... don’t you have to go to work today? You’re the CEO of half the world, aren’t you? Won’t your empire crumble without you?" Rafael waved a dismissive hand, his tone casual yet commanding. "No, not today. The company can survive one day without me micromanaging every detail. Honestly, Eliana, I feel like relaxing for once. No board meetings, no scheming relatives—just a quiet afternoon. It’s... liberating." She nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Liberating. I like the sound of that." By the time they arrived at Rafael’s sprawling mansion the sun hung low. Eliana helped guide his wheelchair up the ramp, her touch gentle on the handles. Once inside the grand foyer, with its crystal chandeliers sparkling overhead and the faint scent of polished wood lingering in the air, she paused and turned to him. "Rafael," she said, her voice earnest, laced with a hint of guilt, "as your caregiver, is there anything I can do for you right now? I mean, ever since I started this job, I haven’t really done any work. You’ve given me so much—paying for Dad’s treatment, this place to stay—and I feel uncomfortable just taking without giving back. I want to return your kindness with hard work. Please, let me help." He regarded her for a moment, his chiseled jaw tightening slightly as if weighing his words. Then, his voice softened, carrying a vulnerability she hadn’t heard before. "Eliana, I appreciate that more than you know. Truth is, I can manage most of my... problems on my own. The day-to-day stuff? I’ve got it covered. But I do need a caregiver for the harder parts—the ones that remind me of my limitations. And right now, there’s only one thing I’ve always wanted to do, but I never had the right person for it." Her brows furrowed in curiosity, her heart skipping a beat at the intimacy in his tone. "What is it? Tell me, and I’ll do my best." A playful smirk tugged at his lips. "I’ve always wanted to watch a movie with someone who could describe it to me, word for word. Every scene, every expression, every little detail. No one’s ever had the patience—or the heart—for it." Eliana’s eyes widened in surprise; she hadn’t expected something so simple, so human, from a man like him. But warmth flooded her chest, chasing away the shadows of her doubts. "A movie? I... I didn’t expect that, but of course. I’d love to. I’ll do my best to paint it all for you." With that, they headed to the kitchen. Eliana insisted on making popcorn herself, waving off the maids with a determined smile. "No, no, I can handle this. It’s just popcorn—how hard can it be? Besides, I don’t want to bother anyone when I can do it myself." Rafael, still in his wheelchair, rolled closer, his athletic frame leaning forward with interest. "Let me help. Since one of your hands is in that sling, my hands can be yours. And your eyes... well, they’ll be mine." She laughed, a light, melodic sound that echoed off the walls. "Deal. Okay, first, grab the kernels from that cabinet—yes, there. Now, pour them into the pot. Careful, not too many!" As they worked together, the kitchen filled with the sizzle of oil heating and the pop-pop-pop of kernels exploding into fluffy white clouds. Rafael’s strong hands followed her directions precisely, but not without mishaps—a spill here, a burnt batch there—that had them both dissolving into giggles. "See? Told you I needed your eyes," he teased, wiping a streak of butter from his cheek. "Without them, I’d be lost in a sea of chaos." Eliana shook her head, her long hair swaying. "And without your hands, I’d be juggling one-armed. We’re a team, I guess." The fun lingered like the buttery aroma as they finished, piling the popcorn into a massive bowl sprinkled with salt, then they left the kitchen. Eliana then helped Rafael out of his wheelchair, her good arm supporting his feigned unsteady steps as they moved to the couch in the opulent home theater room. Plush leather seats reclined under dimmed lights, and a massive screen dominated one wall, surrounded by speakers that promised immersive sound. Rafael picked a movie at random from his voice-activated system—a romantic comedy titled "Love in the Mix," about a clumsy baker and a uptight executive who swap lives. As the opening credits rolled, Eliana settled beside him, the bowl between them. She began narrating with enthusiasm, her voice vivid and animated. "Okay, the scene opens in a bustling city bakery. There’s flour everywhere—white dust on the counters, the floor. The heroine, Mia, is kneading dough, her apron smeared with chocolate. She’s got this frustrated look, muttering to herself about a bad date. Now, cut to the hero, Jack, in a sleek office, yelling into his phone about a merger gone wrong. He’s pacing, tie askew, looking all stressed and handsome." Rafael listened intently, his head tilted as if absorbing every word, though his sharp eyes—hidden behind the pretense—took in the screen fully. He munched on popcorn, occasionally chuckling at her descriptions. "Word for word, huh? You’re nailing it. Tell me, what’s Mia’s expression when she drops the cake?" Eliana leaned in, her tone dramatic. "Oh, it’s priceless—eyes wide like saucers, mouth open in horror as the three-tiered masterpiece splats on the floor in slow motion. Frosting flies everywhere, hitting a customer in the face. And Jack? He’s just stormed into the bakery by mistake, and now he’s covered in pink icing, glaring daggers." Their laughter mingled with the film’s soundtrack, the room alive with shared joy. Rafael’s sarcasm softened into genuine amusement, his walls cracking further with each quip. "Sounds like my kind of chaos. Keep going—don’t miss a beat." Hours slipped by in a haze of giggles and gasps, Eliana’s narrations growing more elaborate, infused with her own emotional flair. "Now they’re dancing in the rain, twirling under streetlights. Mia’s laughing, her wet hair plastered to her face, and Jack’s finally smiling—really smiling—for the first time. It’s so romantic, Rafael. You can feel the spark." He nodded, a soft sigh escaping him. "I can picture it perfectly, thanks to you." But as the movie hit a lull, Eliana’s throat grew parched. "Pause for a second," she said, standing. "I need more fizzy drinks for us. That popcorn’s salty. Be right back—don’t let the plot twist without me!" She hurried to the kitchen, her steps light, but froze in the doorway. There, by the spice rack, stood Celina Vexley—Rafael’s spoiled stepsister, her glamorous blonde hair tied back, designer jeans hugging her lithe frame—and a maid, both hunched over jars of herbs and powders. Their hands moved furtively, mixing something into a small vial. The air smelled oddly sharp, like mingled cinnamon and something metallic. When they noticed Eliana, Celina jumped, her blue eyes widening in shock, the vial clattering to the counter. The maid gasped, stepping back like a deer in headlights. "What... what are you doing here?" Celina snapped, recovering quickly, her voice dripping with venom. She straightened, crossing her arms over her sequined top. Eliana frowned, glancing at the spices. "I just came for drinks. What are you two up to? It looks... suspicious." Celina’s face twisted into a sneer, her entitlement flaring like a match. "Suspicious? Please. This is my house, peasant. What are you still doing here, anyway? Hasn’t Rafael finished sleeping with you yet? I figured he’d kick you out by now, like the trash you are." The words hit Eliana like a slap, igniting a fire in her chest. Her warm brown skin flushed with anger, her expressive eyes narrowing. "Excuse me? How dare you talk to me like that! I’m not some toy, and Rafael isn’t like that. You have no right—" Celina’s hand flew out, cracking across Eliana’s cheek with a sharp sting that echoed in the kitchen. Pain bloomed hot and immediate, but fury overrode it. Eliana’s naive trust shattered in that moment, replaced by the quiet strength she’d always carried. Without thinking, she swung back, her good hand connecting with Celina’s flawless cheek in a resounding slap. "You bitch!" Celina shrieked, lunging forward, nails clawing at Eliana’s hair. Eliana dodged, grabbing Celina’s wrist, the two tumbling into a frenzy of pushes and pulls. Pots clattered to the floor, spices scattering like confetti as they grappled, breaths ragged, voices hurling insults. "Get off me!" Eliana yelled, her sling hampering her but not her resolve. The maid fled, screaming for help, as the fight escalated into a whirlwind of drama.