Rafael Vexley let out a laugh—a genuine, disbelieving burst that filled the car. It was a sound James hadn't heard in years, raw and emotional, laced with the pent-up rage of a man who'd suffered in silence too long. "I can't believe it. Three years, James. Three goddamn years of waiting, of digging through shadows. And now... this? It's like Christmas came early, if Christmas involved taking down a viper."
He ran a hand through his dark hair, his mind flooding with memories. "Oh James, I can't believe this. Ever since that witch Mirabel slithered into my family home, pretending to be the perfect stepmother, she's made my life a living hell. The constant near death experiences, the manipulations—'Oh, Rafael, you're so fragile,' she'd say with that fake smile in front of my father, all while plotting behind my back."
