Chapter 243

Eleanor's POV

I was preparing breakfast in my open-concept kitchen when Drew finally woke up. I watched as he pushed back the covers, his face a picture of confusion as he took in his surroundings, taking several moments to realize he was in my apartment.

When his eyes found me, I offered him a smile. I knew my eyes crinkled at the corners when I smiled like that-it was the kind of smile that always seemed to melt his defenses.

"Finally awake?" I asked, keeping my voice light and teasing.

"Last night, I..." he trailed off, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

"You drank like there was no tomorrow," I finished for him, my tone matter-of-fact but gentle.

"I... it's all Spencer's fault, that devil," he growled, channeling all his frustration toward Spencer Sherwood.

I set two plates of breakfast on the table. "Enough of that. You spent all night cursing him already-his ears must be burning. Just don't drink like that again, okay?"

"Okay," he nodded obediently, like a chastised child.

As he started eating, he immediately launched into his usual exaggerated praise: "This is amazing, absolutely incredible, the best breakfast in the world..."

I gave him a pointed look. Asking Drew to judge my cooking was like asking a fish to critique air quality.

"How did I get here last night?" he asked suddenly, between mouthfuls of food.

My hands tightened imperceptibly around my utensils, but I kept my voice casual as I replied, "Jace brought you."

His eyes widened at this revelation, and I quickly explained, "He would have found out eventually anyway." Then, remembering something important, I added with a touch of worry, "Oh no, I forgot to tell Jace not to mention this to anyone. If your mother finds out..."

"Jace knows how to be discreet," Drew interrupted, his trust in his friend absolute. "He understands what should and shouldn't be said."

Just then, his phone rang. He hurried to the bedroom to answer it, and I heard him say "Mom" in a tone that told me everything I needed to know. From his expression, I could tell Vivian was furious on the other end.

I continued eating my breakfast at a leisurely pace, watching as he gestured to me before stepping out onto the balcony. Despite his attempts to keep his voice down, I could still hear him defending our relationship.

When he returned, we chatted briefly, and he even volunteered to wash the dishes. I thought we might actually get to enjoy a quiet morning together, but then his mother called again, threatening that if he didn't come home immediately, he'd "regret it for the rest of his life."

Watching him prepare to leave, I felt a familiar ache in my chest, but I managed a soft "okay." Before he left, he promised fervently that he'd return that evening, declaring his love for me with the passion that always made my heart flutter despite my better judgment.

"I love you too," I smiled as I watched him leave.

I spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon in the apartment, waiting for his return. But when the doorbell rang later that afternoon, it wasn't Drew standing outside-it was Vivian. My smile froze on my face as I took in her imperious presence.

She stood there in the hallway, her posture rigid and her eyes cold as winter frost. The silence between us stretched taut like a wire about to snap. Her expression made my stomach clench with apprehension.

We held each other's gaze for what felt like an eternity. Time seemed to stand still in the heavy silence.

"Eleanor Yates." Vivian finally spoke, her eyes scanning me from head to toe, searching for changes in my appearance since she'd last seen me. I could feel her cataloging every detail, every subtle difference from the woman I used to be.

"You came looking for me?" I asked, fighting to keep my voice steady.

"Who else would I be here for? Drew?" The sarcasm in her voice was unmistakable. Of course, her presence here meant she already knew about my relationship with Drew Yeager. Nothing stays secret for long in our circles.

"Come in," I invited her, gesturing toward the living room. "Don't bother with shoes. I don't keep extra slippers around."

She entered my home, her critical gaze sweeping across every corner. The apartment wasn't large or particularly luxurious, but I had made it cozy and inviting. I watched as she settled onto the sofa, her posture rigid and formal. I poured her a glass of water, noting the subtle surprise that flickered across her face. Perhaps she hadn't expected me to have learned to be so... domestic after everything that had happened to my family.

"Drew bought this place?" she asked with calculated indifference.

"Yes." I answered directly. There was no point in hiding it. For someone like her, discovering the owner of this apartment would have been child's play.

"How long have you and Drew been together?"

"Three, maybe four months."

"So... right after your family's situation changed, he swooped in." She did the mental calculation, her voice taking on an edge.

"More or less." I kept my response neutral.

"Drew certainly knows how to seize an opportunity, doesn't he?" The bitterness in her tone was unmistakable.

I pressed my lips together, choosing silence over defense. What could I say that wouldn't sound like justification?

"I won't approve of this relationship." Her words came sharp and clear, exactly as I had expected. Even without considering my current circumstances, my previous connection to Clara Harrington alone would have been enough reason for her disapproval.

"I know it might not carry much weight now, but what Drew and I have is real. Your unilateral rejection of our relationship will only make him resent you." I met her gaze steadily.

She studied me intently, and I could feel her reassessing me. Despite losing everything that once defined my social status, I maintained my composure, my eyes unwavering, accepting my new reality without shame.

"You grew up in our world, Eleanor. Between his momentary resentment and his future prospects, which do you think I value more?" Her question hung in the air between us, heavy with implication.

I bit my lip, all too familiar with our society's obsession with suitable marriages. The unwritten rules that governed our world hadn't changed just because my circumstances had.

"If not for your... unfortunate situation, I would have gladly blessed your union with Drew. I genuinely liked you, Eleanor. Not just for your former status, but for who you were. And I'll be honest with you - Clara is currently introducing her daughter Maeve to my son. I've met Maeve, and truthfully, she doesn't hold a candle to you in any aspect."

My expression flickered at this revelation. I was surprised that Clara would try to match Maeve with Drew. While Drew might act carefree and irreverent at times, his family's influence was undeniable. I understood Clara's strategy - she wanted to ensure Maeve would have a powerful male ally besides herself as she established her position in Manhattan society.

Every move, every calculation, all centered around Maeve's success.

I pressed my lips together again, forcing my features into a mask of indifference. But inside, my thoughts were churning.

I sat there, watching as Vivian said, "The difference in our social standings makes it impossible for me to let Drew choose you over Maeve," while reaching into her purse to pull out a bank card.

Looking at the card she held out, I couldn't help but laugh-a bitter, ironic laugh. How absurd that I would find myself in such a melodramatic situation, being paid off like some character in a soap opera.

"There's half a million in there. It's not a small sum for someone in your position," Vivian said.