Chapter 84

Eleanor's POV

In my dressing room, I was frustrated, recalling just events when Alice burst in, her phone still in hand.

"Eleanor, we have a situation." Her usual composed demeanor was cracking. "Evelyn Whitmore claims she's 'feeling unwell.' They want you to walk now."

I met my reflection's gaze in the mirror, noting the careful hours of preparation that had gone into my appearance. "When?"

"Ten minutes."

My fingers curled into my palm, but I kept my voice steady. "That wasn't our agreement with the organizers."

"I know, but-" Alice's phone buzzed again. She glanced at it and her face darkened. "They're saying Evelyn will walk last."

"No." I stood up, the silk of my gown rustling softly. "I agreed to walk the red carpet under specific conditions. If I walk now, the carpet closes after me. Those were the terms."

Alice nodded, already dialing. "Let me handle this."

I watched her pace the small dressing room, her voice growing increasingly heated. "What do you mean, 'circumstances have changed'? We have a contract... No, you listen..."

The argument continued, but my attention drifted to the mirror again. Years of careful image cultivation stared back at me. Every premiere, every red carpet, every interview-I'd built my career from scratch, refusing to trade on my family name. The thought of Evelyn using her connections to upstage me made my blood boil, but I couldn't let it show. Not here. Not now.

Alice's sharp intake of breath pulled me back to the present. "The company president is insisting," she said, her voice tight with anger. "Apparently, the Whitmores made some calls."

"Of course they did." I smoothed my expression into careful neutrality, even as my nails dug into my palms. "Tell him I'll do it."

"Eleanor-"

"It's fine." It wasn't, but I'd learned long ago to pick my battles. "But Alice? I need a moment alone."

Once she left, I allowed myself five seconds of pure, unadulterated fury. Five seconds to remember who I really was-not just Eleanor Yates, rising starlet, but a member of one of Manhattan's most powerful families. Five seconds to imagine telling Evelyn exactly who she was trying to manipulate.

Then I tucked it all away, just as I'd been doing for years.

The walk to the red carpet was a blur of assistants and last-minute touch-ups. Just before I stepped out, Alice caught my arm.

"There's something else you should know." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "About Evelyn and Jace."

My heart stuttered, but I kept my face carefully blank. "Oh?"

"They're together now. Or at least, that's what she's telling everyone. Given that he's Howard Harrington's adopted son..." She trailed off, watching me carefully.

The irony almost made me laugh. Jace Gillard-the one person in the industry who knew my real identity, the one connection to my old life I couldn't quite sever-and now this.

"Well," I said, adjusting my bracelet, "isn't that interesting."

The red carpet was a gauntlet of flashing lights and shouted questions. I moved through it with practiced grace, each pose and smile perfectly calculated. Then I heard her voice.

"Eleanor, darling!" Evelyn's saccharine tone carried clearly over the chaos. "I'm so sorry about earlier. You don't mind, do you?"

I turned slowly, taking in her calculated appearance of fragility. The perfect victim, should anyone be watching. And people were always watching.

"Not at all," I replied, matching her sweetness with steel. "Though I've never been one to fight over scraps. That's more of a... dog's game, isn't it?"

Her smile flickered. "I'm not sure I follow."

"No?" I stepped closer, pitching my voice for her ears alone. "Good dogs know their place, Evelyn. You're in mine."

The next few moments played out like a carefully choreographed scene. As Evelyn took a step forward, her heel somehow caught on the perfectly smooth floor. She stumbled dramatically - too dramatically - and fell with a graceless thud.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" One of the event staff rushed forward, right on cue. I noticed a few photographers turning their cameras in our direction. Of course they would.

"I-I think I've hurt my leg," Evelyn whimpered, her hand clutching her ankle. "The pain... I don't think I can make it to my assigned seat."

A small crowd had gathered now. I could hear the whispers, see the phones recording. This was exactly what she wanted - an audience for her little performance.

"Should we call a doctor?" Another staff member asked anxiously.

Evelyn shook her head, her perfectly styled hair somehow still immaculate despite her fall. "The event's about to start... I just need somewhere to sit. Somewhere closer..." Her gaze drifted meaningfully to my seat.

I'm seated in the front row, right near the cameras, while she's tucked away in the corner of the third row. It's obvious she's trying to take my spot to grab more exposure and attention.

I felt my jaw tighten. The audacity of this woman never ceased to amaze me. "How convenient," I said, my voice carrying just enough edge to make several heads turn. "That you'd fall right here, right now."

"Eleanor," she gasped, managing to look wounded. "Are you suggesting I did this on purpose?"

I let out a short laugh, the sound cutting through the manufactured tension. "Suggesting? No, Evelyn. I'm stating it outright." I took a step closer, towering over her in my heels. "You want my seat? Is that what this little performance is about?"

"I-I just can't walk to my assigned spot," she stammered, though I caught the flash of calculation in her eyes.

"Oh, really?" I let out a cold laugh. The fury in my eyes was unmistakable.

I hadn't grown up being anyone's pushover. As a child, my stubborn temper meant I'd fight anyone who crossed me. Hell, I'd even made Drew Yeager cry once.

"Since Miss Whitmore seems so fond of injured legs," I enunciated each word with deadly precision, "let me help make that injury real. I, Eleanor Yates, never take the fall for someone else's games."

I raised my foot, my stiletto heel glinting dangerously, and kicked her leg with all my might.

In this world, there wasn't a single person I was afraid to take on.