Eleanor, in a daze, saw a face with heavy brows and a hint of fatigue. Sparse moonlight seeped through the curtain’s gap, gently falling on his shoulders.
She jolted awake, startled out of her sleep, gathering the quilt, and sat up.
"How did you get in?"
Cillian Grant hadn’t expected her to wake suddenly. Seeing her frightened out of her wits, he turned on the bedside wall lamp, "Is there any room in the Grant Family that I can’t enter?"
The light from the wall lamp was dim yellow and not piercing. Eleanor could see his neatly dressed suit, her heart slightly relaxed, yet she still wrapped the quilt and sat a bit farther away.
"It’s late. Do you have sothing to discuss?"
Cillian Grant sat on the bedside without moving, conceding to her alertness, maintaining the distance she deed safe, "Simon isn’t trustworthy. You should never see him again."
Eleanor frowned. The clear breeze and bright moon seed trustworthy, but who really is? Who enters uninvited in the middle of the night, sits at soone’s bedside, is trustworthy?
But she didn’t argue back. In one more day, she’d be gone.
Indeed, they wouldn’t et again in this lifeti, "Alright."
Cillian Grant had been brushed off with insincere words too many tis. He stared at her intently for two seconds, "Really?"
Eleanor didn’t like lying, even less becoming a liar. But in front of Cillian Grant, with her days numbered, she made up hundreds of lies every day, becoming a liar in the end.
Cillian Grant, naturally, wouldn’t believe a single word, casting suspicion and scrutiny.
"Really."
Maybe because she was about to leave, Eleanor said two truthful sentences, "I don’t like blind dates, nor do I intend to develop anything with him."
She doesn’t go soft at the sight of a man, a re glance igniting the heart; a few words triggering heated passion, sharing a path, and falling irrevocably in love.
Yearning endlessly, unable to survive without seeing.
Cillian Grant was shrewd and insightful; he wouldn’t miss her sincerity.
Yet he remained silent.
Eleanor held her breath, feeling his gaze growing deeper, stirring extre, conflicting secrets that were infinitely magnified under the dim, hazy glow, transforming into an impenetrable net covering her.
Suddenly, he reached over.
Eleanor retreated, tangled in the quilt.
Cillian Grant grabbed her ankle, pulling her closer, "Have you thought it through?"
Eleanor froze for a second, understanding what he ant.
But how was she supposed to have thought it through?
Being driven away from the Grant Family, kept at The Erald Residence, perhaps rewarded with a child for serving well?
Especially when he was inviting society’s daughters to a birthday party blind date.
She lowered her head, knowing she should brush it off, keep him steady for tomorrow’s farewell.
But she couldn’t open her mouth or make a sound.
Cillian Grant didn’t get angry as usual. He leaned over, gently hugged her into his arms, along with the thin soft silk quilt, holding her completely.
"You don’t have to answer," Cillian Grant slightly tilted his head, observing her closely, "Earlier you asked for a chance to breathe; I’ll trust you once more."
Unable to restrain herself, Eleanor tilted her head to examine his expression.
But he was extrely deep, impossible to judge whether he was testing or sincere. So Eleanor vaguely nodded, saying nothing unnecessary.
Cillian Grant was amused by her nodding like a chick pecking grain, the pressure on him easing unknowingly, "Within a deadline."
Eleanor’s nodding paused.
She knew Cillian Grant wouldn’t easily grant leniency.
"Before Damian Sinclair’s wedding at the end of the month."
Eleanor lowered her head, staying silent.
Cillian Grant took it as her agreent, stood up, and began undressing.
Eleanor hurried to stop him but was scooped up into the bathroom.
.........
The next day, when Eleanor woke, Cillian Grant was already gone.
She sighed with relief.
The excuse of her physiological period was gone last night, and after her evident resistance, they both stepped back, not taking it to the end.
He left quietly this morning, a stark contrast to before when Mrs. Grant blocked him in her room, even when she pleaded, he still brazenly exposed the door.
Eleanor was surprised Cillian Grant genuinely wanted to give her a chance to breathe.
But she didn’t need it anymore.
For breakfast, Eleanor still didn’t eat at the Grant Family.
Mrs. Grant’s attitude was clear; soon everything would be laid bare.
Eleanor only hoped the dagger would wait until after tomorrow to appear.
She simply packed a few clothes, taking the pink sapphire butterfly hairpin given by Mr. Grant.
On her way out, she happened to et Mr. Grant, just returning from his morning exercise, wearing ivory Tai Chi attire, his face radiant, his deanor elegant and composed, not at all appearing sixty.
The Grant n, looking several generations back, were all like this: handso appearances, tall and strong bodies, bone beauty surpassing skin beauty, remaining taut in old age, naturally skilled at retaining youth.
"Going to see Elaine White so early?" Mr. Grant noticed her hairpin, smiling warmly, "Eleanor’s a grown woman now; these accessories should be worn more often."
Eleanor wore a smile on her face, "Father’s good intention, I’ll surely wear them more often."
Mr. Grant asked again, "That boy, how did your conversation go, have you t?"
Eleanor, "t him yesterday."
Mr. Grant’s eyebrow twitched imperceptibly, didn’t ask further, changing topics instead, "Liam Xavier had a car accident, the child wasn’t saved, his wife remains unconscious. The culprit lies within The Xavier Family themselves. Handling it is quite troubleso, a real headache. You and Cillian aren’t on good terms; best not to provoke him these days."
Eleanor halted.
Mr. Grant looked at her leisurely, explaining gently, "Liam Xavier acted rebelliously; The Xavier Family has long prepared to deal with him, yet Cillian seized the opportunity and supported him, but that woman is different."
No matter the difference, it’s just picking soft persimmons to pinch. n’s mistakes are laid on won; they enjoy the benefits while won bear the consequences.
Eleanor’s expression was suitably portrayed, showing slight pity without letting Mr. Grant notice a flaw.
Leaving the Grant Family gate, her expression crumbled like collapsing bricks, tumbling down, scattered and fragnted.
Mr. Grant wouldn’t inform her of Liam Xavier’s wife’s fate for no reason, yet pointedly ntioned Cillian would be busy these days, it felt like both a prediction and a warning.
A prediction that the truth was near, a warning to avoid stubbornness.
Eleanor found it peculiar. Mr. Grant continually asked about blind dates, it seed like hinting at her awakening and leaving through marriage.
But this was rely her speculation. Mr. Grant’s depth was too elusive; false and real may often lead one to think they’ve seen through, willingly jumping into a bottomless pit.
She first went to Elaine White’s place, put her luggage away, accompanied her to have breakfast at a street stall, soy milk substituting for alcohol, boldly downing five or six cups in a farewell feast, totaling seventeen dollars and fifty cents.
Eleanor paid.
Elaine White used this as an excuse, transferring all her WeChat money to Eleanor as travel funds, also giving a card, saying it was milk money for her goddaughter.
Eleanor didn’t accept and wouldn’t leave.
They dragged on till ten o’clock, initially Eleanor was heading to Stonewell, but suddenly received a ssage from Jolly God pulling her into a group chat.
Opening it, the group na was [Grant Loves , Please Be Tough]
Eleanor froze, considering leaving the group.
The next second, the group flooded with videos; she clicked to view.
Paper flowers spraying colors, dragons and phoenixes dancing, the walls, floor, ceiling a colorful ss; glimpses of a cleaning lady, standing at the corridor in a death stare.
Jolly God stood amidst the chaotic scene, climbing onto a table, instructing people to play music, "Don’t stop, keep the music going, keep dancing..."
Eleanor, "..."
Previously, Jolly God complained that working was like attending a funeral, but after making money, Eleanor thought he looked even happier than a ghost.
The next second, soone even happier appeared.
Tilly tugged at Jolly God’s pants, climbing onto the table, "Contract signing bonus twenty thousand, thank Grant Group, my father, thank President Byron, my mother. I’ve got my house down paynt together; I have a house in Soldane Province now..."
"I’ve saved enough for dowry—"
"I can build my mom’s house in the countryside—"
"I can get treatnt, I have a child—"
"..."
There was no need to shout this one.
She watched till the end, and Jolly God @her, "Eleanor, your bonus has been issued too; when you have ti, your lordship should deign to co to this broken office."
Eleanor didn’t reply.
Elaine White fastened her seatbelt, "Still heading to Stonewell?"
Eleanor shook her head; everyone thanked Mr. Grant. It seed that Cillian Grant’s disturbance wasn’t taken to heart.
She looked at the spring cherry blossoms in the greenbelt outside the window, quickly thrown behind, suddenly smiling, "A great woman aspires far and wide, no need to make a fuss over parting, sleep well tomorrow, don’t see off."
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