"Oh, Rafael..." Eliana Bennett whispered, her voice soft and tender as she cupped his face, her thumbs gently brushing away the tears that had escaped his grey eyes. She leaned in closer, her honey eyes wide with a mix of surprise and affection. "Don't cry."
But the words seemed to unravel him further. Rafael's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, a rare crack in his usually impenetrable facade. More tears welled up unbidden, hot and insistent, betraying the cold, calculating billionaire he had always presented to the world. He jerked his head away, burying his face in his hands, his broad shoulders hunching as if he could shrink into invisibility. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, his voice muffled and thick with emotion. He couldn't bear it—the vulnerability, the raw exposure. This wasn't him; he was the puppet master, the one who orchestrated lives from the shadows, not the man who wept like a child over happiness he never thought he'd deserve.
