Chapter 126

Eleanor's POV

The scene before me froze like a carefully arranged tableau: Serena, looking small in one of the chairs, and my grandfather, standing by his massive desk like the king of his domain.

"Eleanor," Grandfather's voice carried that familiar note of disapproval. "What happened to your manners?"

I ignored his rebuke, moving immediately to stand beside Serena. My hand found her shoulder, a gesture both protective and reassuring. "At your age, bullying a young woman like Serena? What would people say?"

Grandfather's expression didn't change, but I caught the slight tightening around his eyes.

"We're just discussing business," he said smoothly, adjusting his cufflinks with practiced nonchalance.

"Yes," Serena agreed, her voice steady despite the tension I could feel in her shoulder. "It's just business."

I didn't believe either of them for a second. The air in the study was too thick with unspoken threats, the kind I'd grown up breathing. "Are we done here? I'm taking Serena home."

Grandfather moved to the window, his reflection ghosting across the glass. "Eleanor," he said, his tone shifting to something that made my spine stiffen. "It's time you came back to handle the family business."

My fingers curled into fists at my sides. "We had a agreement."

He turned then, the dying sunlight casting harsh shadows across his face. "Business is business, we're not bound by rules."

The words hung in the air like smoke, acrid and suffocating. I knew better than to respond-years in this house had taught me when silence was the sharpest weapon. Instead, I helped Serena to her feet, keeping myself between her and Grandfather as we moved toward the door.

Just before we left, I caught Grandfather's reflection in the darkening window. He was watching us with an expression I knew too well-the look of a man who believed he'd already won the game.

Serena's POV

The city lights blurred past the car window, matching my fractured state of mind. Eleanor sat beside me in silence. I kept my gaze fixed on the passing scenery, watching as familiar landmarks slipped by without really seeing them.

"Thanks for the ride," I said as we pulled up to my building, my voice eerily steady even to my own ears. Eleanor's reflection in the window showed her watching me with poorly concealed concern.

The doorman nodded respectfully as we entered the lobby. The elevator ride was silent, save for the soft hum of machinery and the gentle chime at each floor.

Inside my apartment, I moved through my evening routine with mechanical precision. Shoes lined up perfectly by the door. Bag placed on its designated hook. Jacket hung with mathematical accuracy in the closet.

"Serena." Eleanor's voice broke through my methodical movements. She was still here, of course. I'd almost forgotten.

"I'm going to take a shower," I announced, already heading toward my bedroom. "Make yourself comfortable."

The hot water couldn't wash away the evening's events, but it gave me something else to focus on. I counted the seconds under the spray, letting the steady rhythm of water droplets drown out any unwanted thoughts.

When I emerged, wrapped in my silk robe, Eleanor was sitting cross-legged on my bed. Her worried face was obvious.

"You don't have to stay," I said, carefully running a brush through my wet hair. "I'm fine."

"Serena, it's okay to cry." Eleanor's voice was gentle. "Trust me, holding it in only makes it worse. I've been there."

I met her eyes in the mirror, my lips curving into what I hoped was a convincing smile. "I'm fine, Eleanor. Really."

She moved to stand behind me, her reflection joining mine. "Listen, Serena. I don't care what happens between you and Lucas. You'll always be my best friend. Even if you two become mortal enemies."

My hands stilled on the brush. In the mirror, I watched as my fingers unconsciously straightened the already-perfect collar of my robe. "I trust you," I said finally. "And it's not because you're connected to the Harringtons." I set the brush down. "I've just... accepted reality. When you truly accept something, it stops hurting so much."

Eleanor's eyes filled with tears that I couldn't - wouldn't - shed myself. I turned away from the mirror, busying myself with arranging the pillows on my bed, each one at exactly the right angle.

"You don't have to be strong all the time," she whispered.

"I'm not being strong." My voice remained steady. "I'm being practical. Life goes on, Eleanor. The sun will rise tomorrow, meetings will be held, decisions will be made. That's all there is to it."

She watched as I methodically turned down the bed, each movement precise and controlled. Finally, she sighed. "I'll stay tonight."

"You don't need to."

"I know." She settled onto the chaise lounge by the window. "But I will."

I slipped between the sheets, every movement calm. Eleanor's quiet breathing, a reminder that I wasn't alone, even as I wrapped myself in solitude.

Sometimes, I reflected, acceptance feels a lot like numbness. But numbness was better than pain. Numbness was practical. And practical was all I could afford to be right now.