Chapter 215

Quinn's POV

"The NSF wants me based here in Manhattan now. I'll mostly be at Columbia, with occasional trips to DC for grant reviews," he continues.

My heart skips a beat as the realization washes over me, though I force my face to remain perfectly still. "That's nice. Close to home," I say diplomatically.

"Quinn, I-"

My fingers tingle with suppressed excitement as I process this information, keeping my breathing steady and measured. "It's late, Marcus. Get some rest," I cut him off.

"...Right." I can see the unspoken words in his expression.

That night, I lie in my bed, exhausted but wide awake. Every time I close my eyes, my mind floods with memories I'd rather forget.

The next morning, I go through my usual routine, choosing a navy suit for the day. At breakfast in the main dining room, everyone except Spencer-who never surfaces before noon-is present, including Marcus and Emma.

"Oh my god, I feel so stupid! I totally thought she was your girlfriend," Christine laughs over her coffee.

"I wish! But Marcus here is playing hard to get. Don't worry though, Mrs. Sherwood, I'm persistent," Emma smiled.

"Emma, you're practically a sophomore. I'm old enough to be your professor," Marcus says firmly.

"Lucky for you, I have a thing for brilliant older men," Emma persists.

I focus on my avocado toast, letting their banter wash over me. After breakfast, Christine pulls me aside. "How did it go with Spencer last night?"

My heart sank, and yesterday's bad memories came flooding back. I tried to keep a neutral expression on my face. "He's not interested in that," I answer honestly.

"That boy..." she sighs. "We sent them to the same prep schools, same ivy league colleges, yet look at the difference." She touches my arm gently. "I'm sorry, Quinn. I'll try talking to him again."

I deeply appreciate her empathy and consideration. They have consistently treated me as if I were their own child, and the love they show me is one of the few warm feelings I experience. "Thanks," I smile. "I need to head downtown."

As I'm about to get into my car, Marcus appears: "Mind if I grab a ride?"

I glance at Emma behind him.

"Quinn, we're going to check out Fifth Avenue. Emma's never seen Manhattan during the holidays," Marcus explains.

From the driver's seat, I listen to Emma's enthusiastic chatter. It doesn't bother me-instead, I adore her naive and vivacious personality. I drop them off at Saks before heading to the Sherwood Group tower.

Jace's POV

A phone call jolted me awake. The production coordinator was confirming our afternoon shoot schedule.

Since parting ways with Harringtons, my directing career has stayed surprisingly stable. Sleep was impossible after that call. My hangover was brutal, head throbbing from too many whiskeys last night. So much for trying to drink away my problems - the bourbon only made everything worse.

In bed, I found myself scrolling through the group chat between Drew and Spencer on iMessage. The tears caught me off guard, sliding down my face before I even registered them.

The afternoon found me directing a night scene on location. We were shooting exteriors at a luxury condo complex. The weather was classic New York winter - freezing cold with that signature gray haze that meant snow was coming.

While blocking the actors and checking frames on the monitor, I spotted her. Eleanor was coming back, loaded down with grocery bags, bundled up in a coat and cashmere scarf that almost hid her face.

My heart skipped. When she started to look my way, I quickly turned to my assistant director, making a show of discussing the next setup.

Eleanor walked right past our film crew without breaking stride. Only after she disappeared into the lobby did I let myself look up, staring at the revolving door where she'd vanished.

"Mr. Gillard." My first AD's voice snapped me back.

"Yeah," I pulled myself together. "Okay, let's roll on this."

We kept shooting until well after dark.

"Want to grab an Uber, Jace?" one of the PAs offered.

"Thanks, but I've got my car. Need to handle a few things before heading out," I answered.

After the crew packed up and left, I sat alone on one of those stone benches. Winter in New York was brutally cold, especially after sunset, but I couldn't feel the chill.

Eleanor's POV

I stood by the window, watching the film crew pack up their equipment downstairs. Finally, I could bundle up in my wool coat and cashmere scarf, still trying to maintain my low profile before heading out.

Drew had left earlier for a meeting downtown. Now I was craving the famous hot chocolate and fresh cinnamon rolls from the corner food truck. Even at this hour, the streets were still alive with their usual energy - it should be safe enough to venture out alone.

The winter wind whipped down the street as I made my way downstairs, forcing me to keep my head down against the cold. When I reached the familiar silver food truck, its warm lights glowing invitingly, I ordered my usual.

"Flying solo tonight?" Mike, the vendor, asked with his characteristic Brooklyn accent.

"Yeah, Drew had a meeting," I murmured, keeping my face partially hidden behind my scarf. Even after being pushed out of the spotlight, I was still recognizable enough to warrant caution.

"That guy's something else," Mike chuckled warmly. "Last week when he picked up your order, he practically hugged the hot chocolate to his chest the whole way back to keep it warm. Must've burned himself, but he said you like it piping hot."

My heart warmed at hearing that. I should have seen what was right in front of me years ago. Instead, I'd chosen a path that only brought pain.

"Careful with that hot chocolate," Mike warned, handing over my order. "It's fresh off the burner."

"Thanks, Mike."

I called Drew while savoring my late-night treat, our conversation flowing easily as we discussed his meeting and the upcoming restaurant opening.

After finishing, I wrapped my scarf tighter and prepared to head back, still chatting with Drew. That's when the snow started. Delighted, I tilted my face up to watch the flakes drift down, sharing my childlike excitement with Drew as I stepped off the curb.

"SCREECH!"

The sharp sound of brakes cut through the night, followed by an impact that sent me sprawling onto the sidewalk, my phone skittering across the concrete.

Through my daze, I saw someone jump out of a black SUV, rushing forward with panic in their voice: "Oh my God, sir, are you okay?"

That's when reality hit - someone had pushed me to safety. Though I'd fallen, the SUV hadn't touched me. The person who'd taken the hit lay motionless in the street.

I struggled to stand up and limped to pick up my phone nearby. I looked toward the accident scene, my heart sank when I saw the familiar camel hair coat. I had a premonition it was him. I limped toward that person, with each step my heart beating faster. After what felt like a century, I saw the face clearly in the dim glow of the streetlights.

Jace Gillard!

"Eleanor? Ellie! What's happening? Talk to me!" Drew's worried voice carried from my phone.

I snapped back to reality, assuring him quickly, "I'm okay. There's been an accident."

"Were you hit?"

"No, no, I'm fine. Someone pushed me away... I need to check on them..."

"I'm coming right now. Don't move."

I ended the call and cautiously approached Jace. Blood trickled from scrapes on his face, and his expensive coat was torn and stained. His eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw clenched against the pain.

My heart rebels against my mind's decree. Each beat seems to whisper his name, while my conscience screams at me to honor my oath. I find myself caught in an endless spiral of gratitude and guilt, of longing and resistance.

"The ambulance is on its way," the driver said shakily, clearly in shock. A crowd of late-night pedestrians had gathered, their worried whispers mixing with the sound of approaching sirens.

When the EMTs arrived minutes later, I hesitated only briefly before climbing into the ambulance with them. The snow was falling harder now, dusting everything in white as we sped toward hospital.