Chapter 115: A Daughter’s Confession
As the door clicked softly behind Henry, the room seemed to exhale—a long, tired breath of silence that filled every corner. The faint hum of hospital machines mingled with the antiseptic scent, but even the steady beep of the heart monitor felt distant now, like the ticking of a clock counting down a private confession.
Frank Bennett pushed himself upright against the pillows, the sheets whispering beneath him as he adjusted with the ease of a man who refused to be defined by a hospital bed. The faint traces of illness still lingered in his complexion, but the spark in his eyes told a different story—one of grit and recovery. There was a quiet force in the way he moved, a barely contained restlessness that hinted he could walk out of the room—or run, if he had to—without a second thought. When he reached out and caught Eliana’s wrist, his grip was firm, steady, alive with the strength of a man who’d stared weakness in the face and refused to bow to it. He drew her closer until she perched on the edge of the bed, his presence commanding despite the sterile surroundings.
"Eliana, my girl," he began, his voice low and roughened by years rather than sickness. His gaze, black and clear as he night sky, fixed on her with a familiar blend of tenderness and concern. "Come here. Now that young man’s gone, we can talk properly."
He waited, letting the moment settle before continuing, "This whole idea of running off to the UK with him—tell me honestly, sweetheart. Is that truly what you want? From here"—he tapped his chest lightly—"from the heart, not from pressure or guilt or... whatever else is eating at you."
Eliana’s breath caught. Her father’s tone wasn’t scolding—it was weary, genuine, the kind that peeled away every defense she had left. She tried to meet his eyes but faltered, her gaze drifting to the floor tiles. Her fingers fidgeted in her lap, tracing invisible patterns while her mind scrambled for words that wouldn’t break his heart.
She bit down on her lip until it blanched, that small gesture betraying the storm inside her. For a long, aching moment, the only sound between them was the soft, mechanical beep marking time.
Would he still look at her the same way if he knew everything? The secrets she had swallowed to protect him—the betrayal, the guilt, the nights she’d cried until dawn?
When she finally looked up, her eyes glimmered with unshed tears. "Papa," she whispered, her voice cracking like fragile glass. "I... I have to tell you everything. These past months have been a nightmare, and I’ve been carrying it all by myself. I didn’t want to burden you while you were sick, but... you have the right to know everything."
Her words hovered in the air like a promise—fragile, but impossible to take back.
Frank’s brow furrowed, his hand tightening around hers. "Burden me? Eli, you’re my daughter. Nothing you say could ever be a burden. Spill it out, child. What’s been eating at you?"
Eliana drew in a shaky breath, the tears now streaming freely down her warm brown cheeks, tracing paths like rain on a windowpane. "It started when I took that caregiving job with Rafael Vexley. It felt like a blessing at first until it wasn’t."
Frank’s brows furrowed, confusion darkening his steady gaze. "What happened, dear?"
Eliana hesitated, her throat tightening as she tried to find the right words. A tear slipped down before she could stop it, and she quickly wiped it away with the back of her hand. "Papa," she began softly, her voice trembling but clear, "I found out something... horrifying."
Frank leaned forward slightly, the muscles in his jaw tightening. "What do you mean?"
She took a deep breath, the words tumbling out before she lost her nerve. "His stepmother—Rafael’s stepmother—is Mirabel." Her voice broke. "My mother. Your ex-wife."
The world seemed to still for a heartbeat. Frank froze, his eyes widening in stunned disbelief. His hand instinctively clutched at the thin hospital blanket, knuckles whitening as the name sank in. "What?" he rasped, his voice rough and incredulous. "Mirabel? No... that can’t be right, Eli. Say it again. Are you sure?"
Eliana’s eyes shimmered as she nodded, her curls falling forward like a dark veil. "Yes, Papa. It’s her. Your ex-wife is now married into the Vexley family. She has been for years. And according to Rafael..." She swallowed hard, her voice trembling with anger and pity. "According to him, Mirabel has made his life miserable since he was a boy. She’s... she’s tormented him, Papa. I couldn’t believe it either, but it’s true."
Frank shook his head slowly, his mind reeling back through decades of pain. "Lord have mercy. I never thought I’d hear that name again. After she divorced me and walked out on us—on you, a tiny baby—I figured she’d vanished into whatever selfish life she wanted. Not a word, not a letter, nothing. And now this? This bazaar twist? What in God’s name... What did she do when she saw you, Eli? Did she... recognize her own flesh and blood?"
Eliana’s sobs deepened, her slender shoulders shaking as she relived the memory. "No, Papa. She didn’t even know me. Didn’t bat an eye. And worse—oh, so much worse—she hit me. Slapped me right across the face because I stood up to her precious new daughter, Celine, Rafael’s stepsister. It was like I was nothing to her, just some intruder in her perfect, poisoned world."
Frank’s face twisted in fury, his veins bulging on his forehead as if he might burst from the rage boiling inside. His fists clenched the bedsheets, knuckles turning white. "She what? That woman laid a hand on you? If I weren’t stuck in this bed, I’d... I’d... Lord, give me strength not to curse her name. How dare she? After abandoning us, she builds a new life and treats you like dirt?"
Eliana wiped her tears with the back of her hand, her voice trembling but pressing on. "It didn’t stop there, Papa. Mirabel tried to hurt me over and over. She saw how fond Rafael was growing of me—how he started to let his guard down—and she couldn’t stand it. She hates him, Papa. Tried to kill him multiple times, from what I learned. Poison, accidents, you name it. She didn’t want anyone on his side, especially not me."
Frank gasped again, his chest heaving with the shock. "Kill him? Mirabel? The woman I once loved? She’s turned into a monster. A cold-blooded viper. How could she sink so low? I knew she was selfish, but this... this is evil, pure and simple."
The air in the room seemed to thicken, pressing down on them both. The steady hum of hospital machinery faded into the background, leaving only the sound of Eliana’s shaky breaths. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, throwing cold shadows across the sterile walls—shadows that seemed to echo the heaviness of what she was about to say.
Her voice wavered at first, small and raw. "Living in that house terrified me, Papa." She looked down at her hands, twisting them together as if trying to hold herself steady. "Rafael... he’s not cruel, but he’s been broken in ways I didn’t see at first. He hates anyone connected to Mirabel—hates them with a fire that never goes out. She’s trapped him before, manipulated him, made him believe trust and love was just another weapon."
Her lips quivered, and she let out a trembling breath, her composure crumbling. "And foolish me... I walked right into it. I fell for him anyway. Hard. The kind of love that doesn’t ask for permission—it just happens."
To be continued...