Meanwhile, in her smaller, cozy home on the city's quieter edge, Eliana Bennett huddled on the edge of her bed, her slender frame trembling beneath a worn blanket. Her warm brown skin glistened with the remnants of tears, and her long curly black hair falling messily over her shoulders. The phone call to Rafael had been a desperate lifeline, but now the silence amplified her fears. Mirabel's cackle still rang in her ears, a chilling promise of destruction. How could her own mother—abandoned years ago for wealth—turn so monstrous? Eliana's hand instinctively cradled her belly, where their unborn child stirred faintly, a reminder of the love and betrayal tangled in her life.
Her phone buzzed suddenly, jolting her from the spiral. It was James. "Miss Eliana," his voice came through, calm and reassuring, "it's James. I'm outside your door with the team Mr. Vexley sent. Can you come down and let us in? We need to secure the perimeter."
