Chapter 4

It didn't take long for Eleanor and Eric's argument to reach Alexis's ears. Alexis was currently living in the very room Eleanor had once called her own—the best in the villa, boasting the finest lighting and view. The princess-like décor, in pastel pinks and whites, was every bit the romantic young girl's dream, each detail carefully chosen to reflect sweetness and youth.

Sipping her favorite latte, Jennifer watched her daughter's sweet face and asked with genuine confusion, "That little witch is already at rock bottom. Why don't you just kick her out? Having her around is still a risk."

Alexis smiled brightly. "Why kick her out? The more miserable and humiliated she gets, the better it makes me feel."

Jennifer frowned, her concern palpable. She had once been the woman Dominick held dear. "But… what if one day…"

"Easy, Mom," Alexis interrupted, waving a confident hand. "Dominick will never rekindle anything with her. As long as she's under my thumb, that possibility is zero."

Jennifer remained uneasy, her worry lines deepening. "Better safe than sorry. Dominick's young, but he's very calculating."

"Mom, I've got it all under control," Alexis said, casually slipping on a pair of pearl earrings. "That stupid girl will never understand how much Dominick hates her. She thought she could waltz back into his life? I've been waiting for this moment for years. I'm not going to let such a perfect opportunity slip away!"

Alexis stood from her wheelchair, her legs moving gracefully as she crossed the room and selected a moon-white dress from the wardrobe. The ease of her movement belied any suggestion of leg injury, a fact Jennifer apparently found unremarkable.

After dressing, Alexis admired her reflection with a satisfied smile. Lightly touching her face, she murmured, "Mom, there's one thing you're right about: better safe than sorry." She was confident Dominick had long forgotten Eleanor, but she couldn't allow any possibility to arise. She could only rest assured when Eleanor was destroyed.

Meanwhile, Eleanor remained unaware of Alexis's machinations. Following her argument with Eric, her hunger intensified. No one brought her food; Alexis and Jennifer had replaced the familiar servants, and Eric, a mere lapdog to them, offered no assistance.

By midnight, feeling returned to her legs. Pushing through the pain, she slowly dragged herself from bed, using the walls for support as she made her way to the kitchen. The villa was dark, only a dim light flickering. The kitchen was empty, devoid of food, even a scrap. This was deliberate; they knew she would seek sustenance.

Eleanor's face fell. She refused to return empty-handed. Grabbing a bowl, she filled it with cold water and drank it down, a meager measure to quell her hunger. It wasn't her first experience with starvation; prison had taught her to find humor in suffering. But she wouldn't submit easily. A cold laugh escaped her lips as she surveyed the empty kitchen.

After a night's rest, Eleanor felt considerably better; the leg pain had subsided significantly. Years in prison had hardened her body. Waking at 5:30 AM, she listened for sounds from the kitchen and dining room, anticipating the Reed family's lavish breakfast.

When the servants announced breakfast, Alexis and the others entered the dining room, only to find Eleanor already devouring the spread.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Maria, the cook, shrieked, seeing her carefully prepared breakfast being consumed by a disheveled woman. She shoved Eleanor away.

Chapter 1

Eleanor swallowed a bite of omelet, flashing a bright smirk. "I'm hungry. This is my home. I can eat whatever I want, whenever I want. Who's going to stop me?"

"The food was meant for the masters, not you!" Maria snapped, glaring at the mess Eleanor had made.

Eleanor rolled her eyes, sandwich in hand, taking a large bite, ignoring Maria's rant.

"Goddamn it! Where's your decency and table manners? You're acting like a beggar! You're embarrassing us all!" Gregory's voice seethed with anger.

Gritting her teeth against the leg pain, Eleanor sat, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "If you don't eat for days, you'll forget about damn table manners and decency, too."

Alexis interjected, having observed enough of the drama. "Dad, don't get worked up. Eleanor's starving. She probably went through a lot in prison."

Gregory, a man obsessed with dignity, had pampered Eleanor when she made him proud. But after her scandal and prison sentence, he avoided large gatherings, terrified of facing those who might mention his incarcerated daughter.

At the mention of prison, Gregory's face darkened. He shouted, "Get back to your room, Eleanor! I don't want to see you—"

"Dad, calm down," Alexis cooed, flashing a sweet smile at Eleanor. "Dominick is taking me out soon to pick out our wedding rings."

At "wedding rings," Eleanor's face froze, the sandwich losing its appeal. A cold glint flashed in Alexis's eyes. Eleanor, as expected, still hadn't let go of Dominick.

Gregory's expression softened. He turned to Alexis with fondness. "Well, then make sure you pick out something nice. If you see something you like, just tell me. I'll pay for it."

"Dad, you're so sweet," Alexis beamed.

Eleanor watched them with a detached, cold gaze. Their fake father-daughter affection nauseated her. Then, her eyes fell to the table: Dominick was actually planning to marry this woman. The thought made her heart clench painfully.

She hadn't returned merely to reclaim what was hers; she was here to confront the man who had once held her in his heart. She wanted to ask him why, based solely on Alexis's words, he'd condemned her. Was their bond so fragile?

As she brooded, a servant rushed in, practically bursting with excitement. "Mr. Vanderbilt's car is waiting outside."