Chapter 127

Eleanor's POV

"Jace rescheduled my scenes," I said, watching her carefully. She lay there, perfectly still, her face a mask of composure that scared me more than any display of emotion would have. "He wants me to stay with you for a while."

She nodded slightly, her fingers smoothing an already-perfect wrinkle in her silk sheets. "That's not necessary."

"He also said something else." I leaned forward, my words tumbling out in a rush. "Don't trust anything my grandfather says. Don't agree to anything. Wait for Lucas to explain."

A slight tension around her eyes was the only indication she'd heard me. The silence stretched between us.

"Serena," I burst out, unable to contain myself any longer. "Lucas doesn't love Rachel. He couldn't have known about this engagement announcement. Think about it logically - why would he bring you there just to humiliate himself? It doesn't make sense!"

She turned her head slightly, meeting my desperate gaze with calm eyes. "Eleanor," her voice was gentle, almost pitying. "When your grandfather announces an engagement between Lucas and Rachel in front of all those people, what do you think the outcome will be, regardless of Lucas's feelings or knowledge?"

The question hit me like a physical blow. I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it again. My hands clutched at her cotton duvet, seeking anchor as my certainties began to crumble.

"But..." my voice wavered. "There must be a way..."

"The Harrington name carries weight," Serena continued, her voice maintaining that terrible calm. "Your grandfather's word is practically law in certain circles. Once announced, such an engagement becomes a matter of family honor, business alliances, and public perception."

I felt tears welling up in my eyes. "Lucas wouldn't - he's not -"

"It's not about what Lucas would or wouldn't do anymore," she said softly. "It's about what he can or cannot do."

The city lights blurred through my tears as the full weight of the situation finally hit me. I'd grown up in this world of power plays and family obligations, yet somehow I'd maintained a childish faith that love could conquer all. Watching Serena's composed acceptance, I felt naïve and helpless.

"I should have known," she continued, almost to herself. "The signs were there. The Thorne family's recent business movements, the timing of Rachel's return from London..."

"Stop," I whispered. "Please stop analyzing everything so calmly. How can you be so composed when everything's falling apart?"

She turned to me then, and for a brief moment, I caught a glimpse of something raw in her eyes before it vanished behind her careful mask. "Because falling apart isn't a luxury I can afford right now."

I slumped against the side of her bed, feeling suddenly exhausted. "I don't know what to do," I admitted.

"There's nothing to do," she replied. "And Eleanor?" She waited until I looked up at her. "Our friendship won't change, regardless of what happens between Lucas and me."

The words, meant to comfort, only made my heart ache more. Because Serena Sinclair was already preparing for a future where she and my brother were strangers, and there wasn't a thing I could do about it.

I woke to emptiness beside me, my hand instinctively reaching across the cool sheets where Serena had lain. Nine o'clock - later than usual. Sunlight streamed through the half-drawn curtains, casting long shadows across the bedroom floor. Last night's memories flooded back: lying awake, watching Serena's unnaturally still form beside me, her breathing too measured to be genuine sleep.

Rolling over, I recalled how she'd barely moved all night, maintaining that same rigid position hours after I'd finally dozed off. Even in distress she remained controlled, contained.

The scent of coffee drew me to the kitchen, where I found an immaculately arranged breakfast waiting. Everything was laid out with precise care - fresh fruit, yogurt, whole grain toast. A folded note sat propped against the coffee cup: "All sugar-free, low-fat." Those five words carried more tenderness than a thousand romantic declarations.

My phone buzzed as I settled at the table.

"Already at work?" I typed.

"At the TV station. Discussing collaboration," came her characteristically efficient reply.

I smiled, imagining her in some sleek conference room, commanding attention without effort. "Won't disturb your important business then. Breakfast was lovely. Love you."

"Love you." Two words, but they warmed me more than the coffee.

My contentment shattered as I scrolled through the morning news. There it was - my brother's engagement photos with Rachel Thorne splashed across every major outlet. They looked picture-perfect. The comments below gushed about the "perfect match" between our families, praising the Thornes' political connections and business empire.

Perfect match? More like a perfectly executed hostile takeover. My fingers tightened around my phone as I read article after article praising this "merger" of elite families.

"Need to discuss rescheduling the shoot timeline," I texted my agent, my jaw clenched. "If Serena's back at work, I should be too."