Chapter 123: Followed
As the beautiful golden rays of morning sliced through the skyline of the restless city, Eliana Bennett stepped out of Henry’s elegant high-rise, her chest tightening with the weight of emotions she couldn’t quite untangle. The world around her was already awake—horns blaring in the distance, street vendors calling out their morning greetings, the air humming with that familiar urban rhythm. A crisp breeze kissed her warm brown skin, but she hardly felt it. Her mind was elsewhere, spinning toward the pastry shop where James awaited—where the fragile thread of truth might finally untangle the mess surrounding her and Rafael Vexley.
She hadn’t really slept. All night, she’d tossed and turned beneath the soft duvet in Henry’s guest room, her mind a battlefield of worry, hope, and the aching pull of a love she could neither deny nor fully trust. Every shadow in the room seemed to echo Rafael’s voice, every heartbeat whispering his name.
Henry, ever the steadfast friend, had been nothing but gentle—his quiet kindness wrapping around her like a familiar safety net. His puppy-like devotion had been a small mercy in the chaos, steady where her heart was anything but. And yet... her heart didn’t belong to Henry. It had been stolen long ago by a man whose name tasted like fire and rain on her tongue—a man who could both steady her world and shatter it in the same breath.
Now, as she stood at the edge of the sidewalk, the city swirling to life around her, Eliana inhaled deeply, trying to steady the tremor beneath her ribs. This meeting with James wasn’t just another conversation. It was her chance to fight for the truth. It was her chance to fight for Rafael.
She hailed a cab with a wave of her slender hand, her long curls swaying gently as she slid into the back seat. The driver, a middle-aged man with a scruffy beard and a faded baseball cap, glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "Where to, miss?"
"The pastry shop on Elm Street, please," Eliana replied, her voice soft but steady, those expressive honey-brown eyes reflecting a quiet determination. She adjusted her simple blouse, worn from years of careful use, and settled back, watching the city awaken through the window. Buildings blurred into a tapestry of steel and glass, and she couldn’t shake the unease prickling at her spine—as if invisible eyes were upon her.
In the shadows across the street, Bianca’s hired men sat hunched in their nondescript dark van, their faces illuminated by the glow of a dashboard screen. The leader, a burly figure named Rocco with a scar running across his forehead, gripped the steering wheel tightly, his eyes locked on Eliana’s cab as it pulled away. "There she is," he muttered to his partner, a lanky man called Vince, who nursed a styrofoam cup of bitter coffee. "Target’s on the move. Keep it loose—don’t spook her."
Vince nodded, his voice gravelly from years of chain-smoking. "Got it, boss. She looks clueless. This’ll be easy pickings, just like the lady said. Hit and run at the intersection, make it look accidental."
Rocco smirked, revving the engine quietly. "Yeah, and pocket that fat payday. Bianca Monroe don’t mess around. Her sister’s got a vendetta hotter than hellfire against this girl."
As the cab melted into the chaos of morning traffic, Eliana shifted in her seat, a flicker of discomfort tightening across her expression. The city outside buzzed with its usual energy—cars honking in uneven rhythms, pedestrians rushing across crosswalks with steaming coffee cups in hand, the faint scent of fresh bread from a nearby bakery seeping through the vents.
And then, it hit her. A sudden, urgent pressure in her bladder. It wasn’t just uncomfortable; it was sharp, insistent, like an alarm bell going off inside her. Maybe it was the warm cup of tea her father had practically forced into her hands before she left—his way of fussing over her. Or maybe, more likely, it was just the pregnancy. Her body was no longer entirely hers to control, and moments like this made that reality inescapably clear.
She bit her lower lip, trying to focus on the passing scenery, but the pressure was relentless. "Excuse me, sir?" she blurted out, leaning forward slightly. "Could you pull over at the next convenience store? I... I need to use the restroom. It’s kind of urgent."
The driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror. For a brief second, his brow quirked upward in mild surprise, then softened into a good-natured grin. "Sure thing, miss. There’s a place just up ahead—corner of Maple and Fifth. We’ll get you there in no time."
Relief fluttered through her chest like a small breath of fresh air. She exhaled, pressing her thighs together as the cab smoothly veered toward the curb. Moments later, they rolled to a stop in front of a small, slightly run-down convenience store, its flickering fluorescent sign buzzing faintly in the morning light. The windows were plastered with ads for lottery tickets, discount sodas, and greasy late-night snacks.
Eliana hesitated, her fingers curling around the strap of her bag as that familiar tug of guilt tightened in her chest. She hated inconveniencing people—especially strangers just trying to do their jobs. "Actually," she said softly, her voice laced with polite warmth, "you don’t have to wait. I’ll catch another cab afterward. Thank you so much—here’s the fare."
She slipped a few folded bills into the driver’s hand before he could protest, her smile gentle but determined. Even with the quiet storm of emotions swirling beneath her composed exterior, she managed to offer him that brief, grateful flash of warmth—a small kindness in a world that often felt too cold.
The driver gave a gruff little chuckle, shaking his head as if amused by her thoughtfulness. "No problem at all," he said, pocketing the cash. "Take care out there. City’s full of crazies this early."
His words lingered in the air as she stepped out of the cab, the door clicking softly shut behind her. The early morning light stretched across the street, glinting off passing cars and puddles left by last night’s rain.
With a quiet resolve, she started toward the convenience store. Every step toward that store was fueled by urgency, by the sheer ridiculousness of how much she needed this moment. And yet beneath it all, a quiet laugh threatened to break through—because sometimes, even in the middle of a storm of bigger problems, it was the little things, like needing a bathroom, that reminded her she was still human.
From a block away, Rocco and Vince watched the cab halt, their van idling at a safe distance. Rocco frowned, leaning forward. "What the hell? Why’d they stop? She bailin’ already?"
To be continued...