Chapter 50

Serena's POV

The soft lighting of Aurora's private dining room cast elegant shadows across our table as I watched Eleanor Yates take another generous bite of her wagyu steak. Her complete disregard for the typical celebrity's dining etiquette was... refreshing. No carefully measured bites, no strategic pushing of food around the plate - just pure, unapologetic enjoyment.

"You know," Eleanor said between bites, dabbing her lips with a napkin, "I have to admit something. I completely misjudged you at first."

I raised an eyebrow, taking a small sip of my wine. "Oh?"

"Yeah. I thought you were just another trust fund princess, the kind who clings to powerful men." She gestured with her fork, completely unapologetic. "But you're actually quite interesting. And gorgeous, I'll give you that."

The corner of my mouth twitched. "Let me guess - Ian Whitmore helped form that impression?"

Eleanor rolled her eyes. "That man has a talent for taking credit for other people's work, doesn't he?"

The words hit closer to home than I expected. Memories surfaced of late nights spent refining business proposals, strategizing market entries, all while Ian smiled for the cameras and accepted the accolades. At the time, I'd told myself it didn't matter who got the credit as long as we succeeded together.

How naive I'd been.

"It's funny," I said, swirling the wine in my glass. "Back then, I never thought to count how many of those successful ventures were actually my ideas."

Eleanor leaned forward, her expression suddenly serious. "Is that why you broke up? The credit-stealing?"

"No." I placed my glass down carefully. "He fell for my stepsister, Nina."

"That little devious pretender?" Eleanor snorted inelegantly, making me laugh despite myself. "Men can be so blind sometimes. No offense, but your ex has the emotional intelligence of a teaspoon."

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed. Vincent's name flashed on the screen.

"I have to take this," I apologized, standing. "It's about your ad campaign."

The next few minutes were spent in efficient discussion of promotional materials and release timing. When I returned, Eleanor had ordered a bottle of white wine.

"I hope you're planning to share that," I said, settling back into my seat.

"Obviously." She filled both our glasses with practiced ease. "We're celebrating our mutual good taste in moving on from toxic people."

Two bottles later, Eleanor's cheeks were flushed, and her usual sharp wit had softened into something more vulnerable. When I suggested calling her a car, she shook her head vigorously.

"No, no. I want to see your place." She leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a whisper. "We're going to be family soon anyway."

I froze. If I didn't know about her connection to Lucas, I might have interpreted that statement very differently. The thought made me bite back a smile.

"You're drunk," I said gently.

"Maybe." She grinned, unrepentant. "But I'm also right."

I'd always kept people at arm's length, especially after that scandal at eighteen. The isolation during my years abroad had only reinforced that habit, perhaps making me more susceptible to Ian's attention when he came along.

But sitting here with Eleanor, her guard completely down, I felt something I hadn't in a long time - the potential for genuine friendship. It was both terrifying and strangely comforting.

"Come on," I said, standing and offering her my arm. "Let's get you home before you say something else that makes both of us blush."

Her laughter echoed through the restaurant as we made our way out, drawing curious glances.

I gently closed my bedroom door, careful not to wake Eleanor. She had fallen asleep in the car, and since I couldn't get her address out of her, bringing her to my place seemed like the only option. Looking at her peaceful face against my pillow, I felt an unexpected surge of protectiveness.

The sight was oddly comforting - Eleanor Yates, the rising star who usually maintained such careful composure, now completely vulnerable in sleep. Dark lashes rested against her cheeks, her breathing deep and even. I adjusted the comforter, tucking it around her shoulders before placing a glass of honey water on the nightstand.

After a quick shower, I noticed my phone's screen repeatedly lighting up with incoming calls. Wrapping myself in a robe, I stepped onto the balcony, letting the cool night air settle around me. When Ian's name flashed across the screen again, I took a deep breath and answered.

"Signing Eleanor Yates as StarRiver's spokesperson?" His voice dripped with contempt. "You never cease to amaze me, Serena."

"Is there a point to this midnight call, Ian?" I kept my voice level, though my fingers tightened around the phone.

He laughed, the sound harsh and bitter. "Don't play innocent. You know exactly what you're doing. First Lucas Harrington, now Eleanor? Quite the cozy arrangement you're building there."

"I don't follow."

"Oh, please. You have already known about Eleanor and Lucas's little affair. Two women serving one man - how progressive of you, Serena. You've certainly come a long way from that naive eighteen-year-old girl."

The old wound he referenced stung, but I refused to let it show. "Fascinating theory, Ian. Though I'm more interested in hearing about you and Nina. How long has that been going on?"

His sharp intake of breath told me I'd hit my mark. "That's none of your business."

"Neither are my company's contracts. But since we're sharing opinions - how many times did Whitmore try to sign Eleanor? Three? Four? It must be frustrating, watching StarRiver succeed where you failed."

"Failed?" He spat the word. "StarRiver is nothing compared to Whitmore. You're playing in the big leagues now, Serena, and you're not ready."

"We'll see about that." I ended the call before he could respond.