h4Chapter 65: Dreams to Memories/h4

    Rafael Vexley drifted into sleep with Elianafortably nestled in his arms, her warmth calming him in a way nothing else ever had. Her breathing fell into rhythm with his, steady and quiet—like the first song he’d ever trusted. The velvet curtains muted the moonlight into soft silver streaks, wrapping the room in a false sense of calm. For once, his mind loosened its grip on reality and slipped under.

    And that’s when the dream hit.

    At first, it was almost too gentle, too beautiful to be real. He stood barefoot in a meadow that stretched endlessly, sunlight spilling over him like it had been waiting just for him. The grass brushed against his ankles, cool and ticklish, alive in a way he hadn’t felt in years. Wildflowers exploded everywhere—scarlet, gold,vender—swaying in a breeze that smelled like rain, honey, and something he couldn’t name but somehow knew meant home.

    Then came the sound:ughter. Not mocking. Not cruel. Pure. Unshaken. It pulled him forward before he even realized his feet were moving.

    And then, she appeared like a miracle he didn’t remember praying for—a little girl, maybe five, running straight toward him with her arms wide open. Her curls, ck and springy, bounced just like Eliana’s. Her gray eyes sparkled with abination of innocence and mischief that melted his heart in an instant. She wore a white sundress speckled with embroidered flowers, pink sandals pping against the ground as she sprinted.

    "Papa!" She shouted.

    The word wasn’t just a call—it was a deration, bright and certain. She flew into his arms, and he caught her without thought, spinning her until the whole world blurred into streaks of color and light. Herughter filled the air, bubbling, unstoppable, wrapping itself around his chest until it felt like his heart might finally break open.

    "Oh, Papa, you’re so strong!" she eximed, her small hands cupping his chiseled jawline. Her eyes, so much like his, gazed up at him with unwavering adoration. "I missed you so much! Promise you’ll never let me go?"

    Rafael’s chest tightened with an emotion he hadn’t felt in forever—pure, unadulterated love. He knelt down to her level, his tall, athletic frame folding gracefully, and brushed a stray curl from her forehead. "I promise, my little one," he murmured, his voice thick with tenderness he rarely allowed himself to show. "I’ll always be here for you. What adventures shall we have today?"

    The girl pped her hands, her excitement infectious. "Let’s build a castle! A big one, with towers that touch the sky, and a moat full of chocte milk!" She tugged at his hand, pulling him toward a pile of imaginary stones that materialized in the dreamscape. As they "built," her chatter filled the air, a symphony of childish wonder. "Papa, why do you look so sad sometimes? Is it because of the bad people?"

    He paused, his fingers halting in the air as if stacking invisible bricks. "Bad people?" he echoed, a faint shadow creeping into his tone. But she just giggled again, oblivious.

    "Yes, like the ones in stories. But don’t worry, I’ll protect you! I’m your brave knight." She brandished an imaginary sword, swishing it through the air with dramatic ir, nearly toppling over in her enthusiasm. Rafael couldn’t help but chuckle—a deep, genuineugh that rumbled from his chest, surprising even him. It felt foreign, this lightness, as if his sarcasm and walls had dissolved in the dream’s warmth.

    "Alright, brave knight," he said, ying along with a mock salute. "Lead the way. But promise me something in return."

    She tilted her head, her expressionically serious. "What, Papa?"

    "Promise you’lle see me soon," he said, the words slipping out unbidden,ced with a yearning he didn’t fully understand. "In the real world. I need you there."

    Her face lit up like the sun breaking through clouds. "I promise, Papa! I’lle see you soon. We’ll y forever!" She hugged him tightly, her small arms squeezing with all her might, and for a moment, everything was perfect— a glimpse of a life untouched by betrayal, greed, and shadows.

    But dreams, like fragile ss, can shatter without warning. The meadow began to warp, the colors bleeding into grayscale, the wildflowers wilting under an encroaching fog. The little girl’sughter faded, reced by the distant roar of engines and the acrid smell of exhaust. Rafael blinked, and she was gone, her promise echoing faintly: "I’lle see you soon..."

    Then the dream shifted—like a film reel catching on fire. Sweetness bled away, reced by something jagged. Not fantasy but a memory.

    It dragged him back two years ago, to age twenty-seven, when he’d been nothing but blind and vulnerable. A version of himself he hated to recall.

    The world rebuilt itself around him: the interior of a ck SUV, sleek and suffocating. The leather seats pressed cold against his palms, the faint scent of polish and gasoline heavy in the air. The steady hum of the engine filled the silence, a low vibration that only reminded him of everything he couldn’t see.

    Back then, darkness had been his onlypanion—thick, unbroken, absolute. The aftermath of the crash had swallowed his sight whole. This was before he wed back his vision. Before he learned how to weaponize a lie.

    Beside him sat Lena, his caregiver at the time—a woman in her mid-thirties whose soft-spoken voice and unshakable patience had a way of wearing down even the sharpest edges of his mistrust. Months had passed under her care, an eternity by his standards, considering how quickly others before her had crumbled or revealed their true motives. She lingered where others hadn’t, not because she forced herself in, but because her kindness seemed untainted by the greed that had bled from so many others. Against his better judgment, Rafael had begun to let her in—a door he rarely, if ever, allowed anyone to touch.

    She drove with an ease that made the world outside feel less hostile, one hand steady on the wheel, the other asionally tapping in rhythm to the tune she hummed under her breath. It wasn’t a song he recognized, but the melody threaded through the low purr of the engine, weaving a fragile calm around him. Her perfume—a delicate blend of rose and something faintly citrus—mingled with the crisp st of the air conditioning, anchoring him in the present. For a man who lived so often in silence and shadow, the small ritual of her humming felt like a tether, reminding him he wasn’t entirely alone.

    "Lena, how much longer until we reach the office?" Rafael asked, his voice steady butced with the underlying impatience of a man who hated depending on others. He adjusted his dark wavy hair, his fingers "feeling" the dashboard absentmindedly, though inwardly he mapped every sound and vibration.

    "Not long now, Mr. Vexley," she replied warmly, her tone reassuring like always. "Traffic’s a bit heavy today, but we’re making good time. You have that board meeting at 10, right? Don’t worry, I’ll get you there with time to spare."

    He nodded, leaning back, his grey eyes—truly clouded then—staring sightlessly ahead. "Good. And remember, no detours. I need to review those tech reports before we arrive."

    "Of course," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. "You’re always one step ahead, aren’t you? That’s why you’re the boss."

    There was afortable silence, broken only by the asional honk from surrounding vehicles. Rafael allowed himself a rare moment of rxation, his mind drifting to business strategies, the empire he ruled from the ckness of his world. Lena had proven reliable: helping him navigate his life, reading documents aloud with precision, even sharing light banter that pierced his istion. He had thought she was different—better than the parade of greedy aides who came before her, eyeing his fortune like wolves.

    But then, without warning, the SUV lurched to a stop. The tires screeched faintly, and Rafael’s body jerked forward against the seatbelt. "What the hell?" he snapped, his hand instinctively gripping the door handle. "Lena? What’s going on?"

    "Oh, um, sorry, Mr. Vexley," she stammered, her voice suddenly tense, a crack in her usualposure. "The car... it feels off. Like something’s wrong with the engine. Let me just pull over and check it quick."

    Rafael’s brow furrowed, suspicion flickering in his darkened world. "Pulled over? Where are we exactly?"

    "On the highway," she said hastily, unbuckling her seatbelt with a click that echoed too loudly in his ears. "It’s probably nothing—a loose wire or something. I’ll be right back. Stay put, okay?"

    Before he could protest, the door opened, letting in a rush of hot air and the deafening roar of passing traffic. Cars whooshed by, their engines growling like wild beasts, horns ring in impatient symphony. "Lena?" he called out, his voice rising over the din. "Don’t take too long. This doesn’t feel right."

    "I won’t! Just a minute!" she shouted back, her footsteps crunching on gravel as she moved away. Then, silence—save for the relentless highway noise.

    Minutes stretched like hours. Rafael waited, his heart rate climbing, fingers drumming on his thigh. "Lena?" he called again, louder this time, leaning toward the open door. No response. Panic began to coil in his gut, cold and insidious. He fumbled for his phone, the device a lifeline in his blindness, but as he pressed the voicemand, doubt gnawed at him. Where was she? Why wasn’t she answering?

    "Lena! Get back here!" he bellowed, hismanding tone fracturing with urgency. The wind whipped through the open door, carrying no reply, only the chaotic symphony of speeding vehicles. He realized then, with a sinking dread, that she had abandoned him. Here, on a busy highway, blind and vulnerable," exposed like bait.

    Desperation overrode caution. Rafael unbuckled, his hands feeling his way out of the car, stepping onto the shoulder. The ground vibrated under his feet from the thundering traffic. "Lena? Where are you?" he shouted, voice raw with fear. Cars honked wildly, swerving perhaps—he couldn’t see, but he felt the whoosh of air as they passed perilously close.

    In his disorientation, he stumbled forward, one step too far. A horn red—a deafening warning toote. Tires screeched, and then impact: a ncing blow from a speeding sedan that sent him sprawling. Pain exploded through his body, asphalt tearing at his skin, the world spinning into chaos. "Help!" he gasped, but the word dissolved in the roar. Darkness deepened, not just his blindness, but unconsciousness iming him.

    Rafael jolted awake, his body drenched in sweat, sheets twisted around him like chains. His chest heaved, breaths ragged, as the master suite came into focus—the velvet curtains, the rumpled silk bed, Eliana, who was awake, looking at him with worry. The dream-memory clung to him like a shroud, haunting his every nerve. Mirabel’s ws had reached even Lena, he knew now—bribed or threatened into that betrayal, another pawn in the plot to eliminate him. His hands trembled as he wiped his forehead, eyes wide and piercing in the afternoon light. Trust was a luxury he couldn’t afford... yet here he was, holding Eliana, daring to hope.

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