The luxury car's interior felt like a suffocating cocoon as Rafael Vexley slumped back against the leather seat, his steel eyes wide with a storm of disbelief. The revelation from James's tablet had shattered the fragile walls he'd built around his heart. Eliana Bennett—his Eliana, the woman whose gentle touch had begun to thaw his frozen soul—was Mirabel's daughter? It couldn't be. It was a cruel joke, a nightmare from which he desperately wanted to wake. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles whitening, as he stared at the glowing screen James held out.
"No," Rafael muttered, his voice a raw whisper laced with denial. He shook his head slowly at first, then more vehemently, as if the motion could shake the truth away. "This has to be a mistake, James. A goddamn forgery or some hacked-up nonsense. Mirabel's daughter? Eliana? The same Eliana who's been under my roof, caring for me, pretending to... to what? Love me? No, I won't believe it. Hand me that tablet."
