Finally, the front door opened with a soft whoosh, and Eliana stepped inside. Her slender frame, with its warm brown skin and natural elegance, sagged slightly under exhaustion. Her long curly black hair falling over her shoulders, disheveled from the emotional storm. Her expressive honey-brown eyes were rimmed red from tears, and her heart-shaped face bore the weight of turmoil—her lips pressed into a thin line. The pregnant belly she carried added a gentle curve to her silhouette, a symbol of their tangled future. She wanted to make a beeline straight to her room not wanting to wake anyone up, sighing deeply, her quiet strength frayed but unbroken.
But before she could even make it to her room, the plan sprang into motion. James burst from a side hallway, his face a mask of feigned panic—eyes wide, breath ragged, tie askew. He rushed past her toward Rafael's study, muttering loudly enough to be heard. "Oh God, Mr. Vexley! Sir, are you alright? I heard a crash—hold on!"
