Two Weeks Earlier — Before Eliana's Decision to Travel to the UK
The once-lively corridors of Vexley Manor had grown cold and hollow, their silence pressing down like an iron weight. Even the chandeliers, which usually glittered with arrogant brilliance, seemed dimmer that night. In his study, Rafael Vexley sat alone behind an antique mahogany desk, a fortress of shadows and regrets. The fire crackled weakly in the hearth, its light dancing across the sharp lines of his face, carving deeper the grief etched into every angle of his expression.
His grey eyes were fixed on the clutter before him. Scattered reports, crumpled letters, and a stack of surveillance photographs lay abandoned across the polished wood. At the center of them all was a single image of her.
Eliana Bennett. His caretaker. His lover. The woman who had dared to melt the frost encasing his heart.
