Henry's mind reeled, his ambitious brain struggling to process the drama unfolding in her life. He paced his large living room now, the marble cold under his bare feet. "She slapped you? He hates her? She tried to kill him? God, Eliana, this sounds like something out of a thriller novel. Does he know? About you being her daughter?"
"No!" she whispered fiercely, her voice dropping as if the walls had ears. Fear clawed at her chest, making her breath come in short bursts. "He has no idea, and I'm terrified of what he'd do if he found out. Rafael doesn't just hate her, Henry—he hates everyone associated with her. By blood or even acquaintance. He'd see me as an enemy, a plant sent to betray him. I've seen his cold side, Henry. That calculating glare, the sarcasm that cuts like a knife. What if he turns it on me?"
