Chapter 193

Eleanor's POV

"I'll walk you out," Jace Gillard's voice came softly beside me, as if afraid I might shatter at any louder volume.

"No need." My response was flat, emotionless. The last thing I needed right now was Jace's hollow gesture of kindness. I saw his hand reaching out to steady me, only to freeze mid-air when Clara's cold voice cut through the air, calling his name. I couldn't help but smile bitterly - just like that day at the hospital, here he was again, appearing only to retreat. He never even gave me the chance to hope.

"Jace, don't forget how you came to be part of the Harrington." Clara's reminder made the already tense atmosphere even heavier.

"Take care of yourself, Jace," I said quietly, not even bothering to look at him. "If you don't have the ability, don't try to play hero."

Each step I took toward the mansion's entrance felt like a farewell to my past, measured and suppressive. I found myself feeling an absurd sense of pride - even in these circumstances, I was maintaining my composure, walking out with dignity instead of crumbling on the spot.

The grand foyer that had once welcomed me home countless times now felt like a museum of lost memories. The massive front doors loomed ahead, no longer a gateway to comfort but an exit to exile.

The rain outside had settled into a steady drizzle, as if nature itself was providing a curtain for my exit. The iron gates that had once represented protection now stood as barriers, marking the boundary between who I was and who I had become.

Once I was sure I'd gotten far enough from the mansion - far enough that no one could see me from those warmly lit windows - my body finally gave out. My legs buckled, and I collapsed onto the wet pavement.

The rain soaked through my clothes, but I barely felt it anymore. The streetlights cast long shadows around me, their glow reflecting off the wet pavement like a spotlight on my failure.

Slowly, I felt the rain's chill fade away like the warmth of a fireplace embracing me.

*Finally, it's over.* I closed my eyes, smiling peacefully.

Nina's POV

The social media notification lit up my phone screen. "#Serena Sinclair Faces Legal Battle While Family Celebrates" was trending. I allowed myself a small smile as I smoothed down my ivory silk dress, positioned strategically near the grand ballroom's entrance at The Plaza.

Camera flashes illuminated Grandmother Beatrice's silver hair as reporters swarmed around her. Her hands trembled. But it served my purpose beautifully.

"Serena cut ties with us when she was nineteen," Grandmother's voice wavered. "Such a disgrace to the Sinclair name. Never showed an ounce of respect for her elders or this family..."

I kept my expression carefully neutral, though inside I was savoring every word. The reporters' hungry expressions told me tomorrow's headlines would be exactly what we needed. One particularly eager journalist noticed me lurking in the shadows.

"Miss Nina Sinclair! Your sister is facing serious allegations. Any comment?"

I stepped forward, allowing the light to catch my face at the most flattering angle. "You know," I said softly, injecting just the right amount of pain into my voice, "for our elders, every child is precious. Grandmother wouldn't say such things unless she was truly heartbroken."

The camera flashes intensified. I could practically see the captions: "Devoted younger sister shows grace under pressure." If only they knew.

Inside the ballroom, the champagne tower sparkled like my future prospects. I navigated through Manhattan's elite with practiced ease, accepting sympathetic touches on my arm and murmuring appropriately diplomatic responses about "family matters" and "hoping for resolution."

"StarRiver's future?" I replied to one of the board members, maintaining eye contact while taking a delicate sip of champagne. "I believe in preserving our family legacy while embracing innovation. We must adapt to survive, don't you agree?"

I spotted Oliver in the corner, looking lost. Father had insisted he attend, but nobody was paying him any attention. As it should be. Three days from now, when Serena's verdict came down, even that small courtesy would be stripped away.

"Nina, darling." Grandmother's voice cut through my satisfaction. "For the keynote address, let's have Oliver speak."

The champagne turned bitter in my mouth. "But Grandmother, I've prepared-"

"Oliver needs the exposure," she said firmly, her social smile never wavering. "You understand, dear."

I watched my useless brother shuffle toward the podium, his shoulders squared with unearned confidence. My fingers tightened around the crystal stem until I feared it might snap. Just like I would snap each of them, once I had control.