Chapter 60

Victoria blinked, her eyes wide with practiced innocence, her voice soft and fragile.

Men, however, seemed blind to the most obvious performances. And this particular act worked on them like a charm.

Eleanor knew Alexander would agree without hesitation. Sure enough, within seconds, she saw him nod. "Stay, then."

Predictable.

Eleanor found it laughable. From the corner of her eye, she could feel Victoria's smug gaze, taunting her.

But Victoria's triumph was short-lived.

Alexander turned to Mrs. Harrington. "Prepare a guest room for Miss Lancaster," he ordered.

Eleanor, mid-sip of her soup, nearly choked.

The smugness on Victoria's face vanished instantly.

What the hell?

Victoria couldn't believe it. Is he referring to me?

Eleanor frowned. This didn’t make sense.

How could Alexander dismiss the woman he supposedly loved?

Yet, he had.

Watching Victoria struggle to maintain her composed façade while her forehead vein threatened to burst, Eleanor felt a dark satisfaction.

But she didn’t fool herself into thinking Alexander was deliberately slighting Victoria. No, he was probably just unwilling to flaunt their affair in front of the housekeeper.

Later that night, Eleanor had barely settled into her room when Alexander walked in.

Exhausted, she watched as he slowly undressed. "Alexander," she said flatly. "What do you want?"

Silence.

Only the sound of rain tapping against the window filled the room.

Then, his cold voice cut through. "Don’t you want to keep being Mrs. Blackwood?" He turned, his dark eyes glinting with something unreadable. "If you’re so desperate to hold onto the title, then you should fully embrace it."

His tone was calm, but a chill ran down Eleanor’s spine, seeping into her bones, making her shiver.

The next morning, the house was eerily empty.

Eleanor knew better. Victoria had been humiliated last night—she wouldn’t let this slide.

Not wanting to walk into another trap, Eleanor left immediately, returning to Olivia’s place.

Olivia was still asleep but bolted upright when Eleanor recounted everything. "Alexander didn’t divorce you?" she gasped. "Evie, did he finally grow a conscience? Is he trying to make amends?"

Eleanor shook her head, a bitter smile on her lips. "He doesn’t care about me. He’s only doing this because of his grandfather. The woman he loves is Victoria."

Yes.

He had told her—from the moment he met Victoria, he had wanted her as his wife.

He loved her. He would never let her suffer, not even out of guilt for what he had done to Eleanor.

And if he could ignore his own child, why would he care if Eleanor lived or died?

A sharp pain lanced through her chest, the tumor throbbing violently. Eleanor quickly swallowed the pill Benjamin had given her.

Sweat beaded on her forehead. She bit her lip hard, the pain keeping her painfully alert.

Her thoughts drifted to the daughter she had lost before ever holding her. Tears blurred her vision.

She had to hold on.