Chapter 26

Evangelina

It’s been nearly a week since I came home from the hospital, and Benedict has been my constant companion every step of the way. One week of him never leaving my side has been both a blessing and a strange comfort in the midst of this chaos.

To say he’s taking care of me is an understatement. Benedict has been my rock, attending to my every need with a patience and dedication that’s almost overwhelming. From the moment I was discharged, he has been here, ensuring I have everything I need and more.

He wakes up early to prepare breakfast, bringing me a tray of light, nutritious food to help me regain my strength. He’s attentive, always checking my medication schedule and making sure I’m comfortable. Even the smallest tasks—like adjusting the pillows on my bed or drawing the blinds to let in just the right amount of sunlight—are done with care.

His presence is soothing. He sits by my bed during the day, reading to me from my favorite books.

I’ve asked who’s watching his parish, and he told me they’ve brought in another priest from a nearby church.

At night, he remains close by, often dozing in a chair next to my bed. His hand is always within reach. I’ve noticed the way he looks at me. There’s a tenderness in his eyes that I haven’t seen before, a quiet strength that seems to hold the weight of both our fears and hopes.

There’s an undercurrent of tension in his demeanor. He’s been more focused than usual, his brow furrowed as if he’s carrying a heavy burden he hasn’t shared with me. I sense he’s fighting an internal battle, one that he’s determined to shield me from.

He’s been keeping things from me, and the weight of his silence is starting to eat away at me. I need to know what’s going on behind those intense eyes of his.

One sunny afternoon, as I sit propped up with pillows on the couch, I turn to Benedict, unable to hold back my curiosity any longer. “What are you not telling me?” I ask, my voice calm despite the growing tension between us.

Benedict’s reaction is immediate—he shakes his head quickly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “It’s best you focus on healing,” he says, his tone firm yet gentle. “Have you heard from Christopher?”

I nod, feeling a pang of unease. “I called Jessica to let her know I wouldn’t be able to take Nate for a while because of my accident. I told her I was recovering from a biking accident.”

Benedict’s reaction is telling. He lets out an audible huff, clearly dissatisfied. “Is that what we’re going with? A biking accident?” His voice is laced with frustration, but there’s also a hidden tension beneath his words.

I try to keep my composure. “He said he’d kill me if I told anyone,” I remind him softly, recalling the terror I felt the day Christopher attacked me.

At the mention of Christopher’s threat, Benedict’s eyes flash with a mix of fury and something deeper—an emotion that I can’t quite place. His jaw tightens, and he takes a moment to compose himself before speaking again.

“Eva,” he begins, his voice softer but no less intense, “I understand you’re scared. But right now, it’s crucial for you to stay safe and focus on your recovery. There are things happening that I can’t fully explain yet, but I promise you, I’m doing everything I can to protect you.”

His words are both reassuring and troubling. I can see the strain in his features, the lines of worry etched deeply into his face. He’s clearly wrestling with something, and his frustration with my explanation only adds to the mystery.

As I watch him, I realize that there’s more to this situation than meets the eye. Benedict is fighting his own battles, and while his dedication to my safety is undeniable, I can’t shake the feeling that he’s hiding something significant. Something that could change everything.

Club Greed has been incredibly accommodating, allowing me all the time I needed to recover from my injuries. But as I prepare to return to work tonight, a flutter of anxiety takes hold.

Benedict notices my unease. “I’ll be right beside you the whole time,” he assures me, his voice steady and calming.

“What if Christopher shows up?” I ask, my voice trembling.

Benedict shakes his head with certainty. “I’ve already spoken with Devereaux Huxley. He’s assured me that Christopher won’t be attending tonight.”

A small sigh of relief escapes me. The thought of Christopher’s presence has been a shadow over my recovery. The healing process has been slow but steady, and my body feels significantly better now. I’ve finally reached a point where I feel ready to face the club again.

As I walk through the doors of Club Greed, I try to focus on the familiar hum of activity, the clink of glasses, and the low, pulsating beat of the music. A small knot of tension remains in my stomach, eased slightly by the reassurance Benedict has given me.

“You’re doing great,” Benedict reassures me, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back as we weave through the bustling club. His touch, though gentle, provides a much-needed anchor, keeping my anxiety at bay.

I nod, trying to steady my breath, but my gaze suddenly locks onto a figure across the room. Lazarus Delgado. He’s hard to miss, exuding an air of power and control that makes everyone in his vicinity feel small. My pulse quickens, and I lean closer to Benedict. “He’s here,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the thrum of the music.

Benedict spins around smoothly, his expression changing in an instant. He’s all charm and ease now, flashing a practiced smile as soon as Lazarus catches sight of us. There’s a tension in the air, but Benedict’s confidence helps me mask my own nerves.

“Benedict, Lina, please join us this evening,” Lazarus calls out, his voice deep and commanding as he gestures toward a secluded part of the club. His dark eyes settle on me for a fraction too long, sending a chill down my spine. I force a small smile, hoping it hides the fear simmering beneath my skin.

We both nod and fall in step behind him, following Lazarus down a dimly lit hallway. The atmosphere shifts with every step, the club’s noise fading into the distance as we approach a private room at the end. The air feels heavier here, like stepping into the lion’s den. My heart pounds against my ribcage, but I focus on Benedict beside me. He walks with purpose, his body language confident and controlled, like he’s done this a thousand times before.

The dark hallway stretches on, every shadow feeling like a threat, but we finally arrive at the door. I brace myself as Lazarus holds it open, his smile never reaching his eyes as we step inside. The room is plush, with rich red velvet drapes and low lighting, the kind of place where secrets are made and kept.

I steal a glance at Benedict, and he gives me a reassuring nod, but his eyes are sharp, alert, always watching.