Chapter 158

Chapter 158
"Pass the salt, mi amor," Rafael said in a low voice, never once taking his gaze off Bernice's face.

It was this note that made Bernice blink. They sat opposite to each other at the wide, dining table-the candle flame leaping, squirming across its brilliant facets between them. 

But she said nothing, merely pushed the salt toward him with extended fingers, which touched his with glancing fingers, and, for an instant, all bitterness over, his eyes melted almost down; moved her so that she

"Thanks, dear," he stammered, his curled lip twisting into a small warm smile.

Madam, the head housekeeper, watched them across the room in silent pleasure. She had worked for the Fernandez family for years and had practically witnessed their rollercoaster love affair up and down. And for the first time in years, she saw them finally together again.

"I'm so happy to see you both like this," Madam whispered softly.

Before Bernice could get a word out, one of the younger maids entered with a tray of wine glasses. "Ms. Bernice, would you like some more wine?"

Rafael's hand came crashing down onto the table, making the cutlery rattle. His voice was razor-sharp and commanding. "Mrs. Fernandez. Call her Mrs. Fernandez. She is still my wife."

Bernice's mouth fell open in protest. "Rafael, that's-”

Rafael laid his hand lightly on hers, softening. "Let them know, mi vida. We are a family, and always will be."

The cadence of his words accelerated the pound of her heart. Anger, confusion, and something she refused to recognize, longing arose in her. She yanked her hand back, clutching it to herself in her efforts at an attempt to seemingly regulate her misbegotten emotions.

Dinner resumed in taut silence, the meal tasteless. In her head, all churning thoughts would not calm down; it just could not be so blasé-this new version of Rafael was so smooth, so nice. At the same time, it was the last thing she was standing there for-probably to buy into the façade he was putting out.

After dinner, Bernice excused herself. She needed air, space to think. She retreated to the balcony, hoping to find solace in solitude. But her peace was short-lived when her phone buzzed on the desk.

A cryptic message flashed across the screen:

"We have Luca. Bring €5 million to the address sent below this message at midnight. No police, or you’ll never see your son again."

Bernice gasped; her trembling hand clutched the phone. Her heart was beating against her chest, cold sweats breaking on the forehead. She must have read and reread this over and over again, hoping that something like this had to be some cruel mistake.

"Rafael!" she screamed, running out of the balcony he was by her side in a second. His face was twisted in concern. "What is it?"

She shoved the phone at him, her voice breaking. "The kidnappers… They want money…"

Rafael's face twisted as he read the message. The brown eyes darkened to pure rage. "Who the hell is doing this?”

"I don't know, but they want €5 million," Bernice whispered, shaking. "They'll hurt him if we don't pay.”

Rafael didn't need to be told. "I'll pay for it. I don't care how much they want. I'll do whatever it takes to get him back."

"No," Bernice said, shaking her head. "We need to think this through. What if-"

"There's no time for what-ifs, Bernice!" he snapped, frustration edging his voice. "Our son is in danger!

A thick silence fell between them, and in the dark, tears shone in Bernice's eyes. "We can't lose him, Rafael.

"We won't," he said, pulling her into his arms. "I'll bring him home."



Early the next morning, Rafael's private investigator arrived. He had a somber look upon his face as he placed a file onto the table.

"I understand your urge to pay the ransom," he started, holding onto Rafael's gaze, "but I strongly advise against it."

Rafael scrunched his face over. "Why? We don't have time for any game-playing, Carlos."

“It is not a game, Rafael, if you managed to impress by paying them and giving them the front boot they would be returning at any time afterwards and demanding it again.” 

Bernice cut him off, her voice trembling. "What do we do, then? Luca's life is in the balance."

"We set an ambush," Carlos finally said. "We use the ransom to trap them."

Rafael already had his fists in two tight balls. "What if something goes wrong? If they hurt him?”

"I'll have men stationed around. We monitor everything. That's the safest way we can retrieve Luca and prevent further occurrences from these people," Carlos insisted.

Bernice turned to Rafael, her eyes wild with desperation. "Rafael… What if that's a risk we cannot afford to make?”

His eyes softened, his hands cupping the sides of her face. "I'll keep him safe. I promise you."

After a while, she nodded reluctantly, though her insides screamed with fear.



Later that afternoon, Bernice sought out Liam in the garden and told him everything: her anxiety for Luca, the ransom demand. He listened with furrowed eyebrows.

"I don't believe this is happening again," she whispered, "What if we lose him?”

"We won't," Liam said quietly. "We will get him back."

"I'm scared," she managed to admit, tears streaming on her face.

Liam pulled her into a comforting hug. "I'll call in Detective Marcus. He knows what to do."

"Don't tell Alexander, please. He might want to go there, and I don't want him to get hurt like last time.” 

Liam looked surprised but nodded. "For now."



Later that night, Rafael stood in front of the window in the softly lit living room. He clutched the duffel containing the ransom, his head swirling over the many different ways things could go down.

Bernice entered quietly, her walk unsure. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes," he said, a confident note filtering into his tone. "I'm bringing our son home."

One single tear escaped and trickled down her cheek. "Be careful."

He turned to her; the pad of his thumb tenderly wiped away that single tear. "I'll do what it takes."

Their gazes met for just a moment, their pain at the sight of the other beckoning each toward the other. He leaned in, planting his lips to her forehead with soft kisses. "Be strong for Mia."

Bernice nodded, choking on the words. "Bring him back."

"I will."

And then, the duffel bag clutched, he was racing away, heavy heart not weighed down.

Anger, fear, and resolution churned in Rafael's head as he approached the docks. This was dangerous, but neither would he allow fear to raise its voice.

The place had sounded spooky with those stretched shadows from the few streetlights as he reached there. The tighter clutch of the duffel and one step out in openness, scanning it.

A figure emerged from behind the shadows, his face shrouded by a hood. "You brought the money?"

Rafael's jaws clenched. "Where's my son?"

"Money first," the figure asked.

Rafael wavered. His heart throbbed within him, yet he had no choice. Slowly, he unzipped the bag, revealing the stacks of cash inside.

The figure nodded. "Good. Now, wait here."

As the figure vanished into darkness, Rafael coiled himself. It was now time to get paid. He said a little prayer to God that Carlos and his men were ready, for he had no leeway for failure tonight.