ELOISE

"You son of a bitch!” 

“Eloise, please, let me explain first!” He pleaded, there's desperation in his voice.

“There’s nothing left to talk about! Fuck you!” I spat back, my hands gripping the car door, trying to steady myself. My heart was pounding, fury surging through every vein.

“Eloise, come on! We’re going to crash! Damn it, fix your issues when we get home!” Eduard shouted from the back seat, his voice frantic, but I barely registered it. 

“Stop the car! I can’t stand looking at your fucking face! Stop the car!” I screamed, tears burning my eyes.

The car swerved, and suddenly, everything was spinning—

I jolted awake, gasping for air, my heart still racing as if I’d just lived through it all again. Reality came crashing down as I looked around and realized where I was.

Elijah’s penthouse.

Not his. Not that night.

I closed my eyes, trying to calm my breathing, pushing the nightmare to the back of my mind. After a few moments, I threw the blanket off and got up. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, and I knew exactly what I needed. 

I quietly made my way to the kitchen and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. The soft clink of the glass against the counter was almost soothing in the silence of the house. I poured myself some milk and took a long drink, the cold liquid calming my nerves a little.

As I stood there in the kitchen, I suddenly noticed the clothes I was wearing. They were clean, and they definitely weren’t mine. Elijah must’ve had someone change me while I was asleep. 

Typical. 

I shook my head, letting out a small sigh. This wasn’t new to me, waking up in Elijah's penthouse, wearing clothes I didn’t remember putting on. 

Still feeling restless, I grabbed my glass of milk and wandered into the living room. The silence of the place was heavy, so I figured a movie might help pass the time. I flipped through the streaming options and settled on a horror film.

I curled up on the couch, sipping my milk as the opening scene played out. Screams, jump scares, eerie music—all the usual. But instead of feeling on edge, I felt... bored. 

I rolled my eyes at another cliché scene. How many times can they use the same tricks?

Just as I was about to get to the good part, the screen froze, and a message popped up: Subscription Expired. Please renew to continue watching.”

I stared at it in disbelief, annoyance bubbling up inside me. “Are you kidding me?” I muttered, setting the glass down on the coffee table with a thud. 

Seriously, the one night I needed to escape my thoughts, and this was what I got? I grabbed the remote and mashed the buttons, hoping it was just a glitch, but nothing changed. The message stubbornly remained.

“Great. Just great.” I leaned back against the couch, crossing my arms in frustration. I should’ve known better than to expect anything to go smoothly.

I glared up at the second floor where Elijah’s room was. Seriously, this guy was a billionaire, and he couldn’t afford a lifetime subscription to a streaming service?! 

Elijah freaking Dawson—Asia’s youngest billionaire, who built his empire before most people even graduated college. At 17, he made his first million, and by 20, he hit his first billion. His company dominated the market with high-end car parts and luxury vehicles. Every big name in the industry wanted a piece of what he was selling. The guy practically breathed money, and yet, here I was, staring at an expired subscription.

Annoyed, I climbed the stairs and knocked on Elijah’s door. No response. I knocked again, louder this time. Still nothing. “Figures,” I muttered, twisting the doorknob, surprised to find it unlocked.

The door creaked open, and the sound of running water echoed from the bathroom. Curiosity got the better of me, and before I knew it, I found myself stepping inside. Through the slightly ajar bathroom door, I could hear Elijah cursing under his breath. 

“Damn it, Elijah, you’re losing it!”

I raised an eyebrow. What’s his deal now? I pushed the door open just a little more, peeking in. There he was, in the middle of his shower, still muttering to himself angrily, unaware of my presence.

Despite the fogged-up glass wall, I could clearly make out Elijah’s form inside the shower. His frustration was evident as he ran his hands through his wet hair, pacing in the small space. He slammed his palm against the tile, muttering something I couldn't fully catch, but it sounded like he was angry with himself.

I leaned against the doorframe, silently watching him. A part of me knew I should leave—give him privacy—but something kept me rooted in place.

Not until. He touched himself. 

His dick. He touched his dick up and down. 

“Ahh… Fuck… Eloise!” 

What the… Did he just touch himself while calling my name? 

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck me, Eloise! Fuck me! Ahh…”

I raised an eyebrow, unfazed. Of course, he was thinking about me. It wasn’t the first time something like this happened, someone I caught fantasizing about me and it definitely wouldn’t be the last.

“Suck… Suck me, Eloise! Ah… Fuck! Suck me…”

I can't blame them though, I mean, with one slutty look, I can assure you that I can give you a bulge between your legs. 

“Fuck… Eloise… Ahhhh… Ohhhh. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I wanna fuck you! Fuck this!”

I didn’t flinch or feel embarrassed. To me, this was just another typical night in the chaotic mess we called life. With a shrug, I stepped back, deciding to leave him to his… moment. This was normal, right?

I went downstairs, not even bothering to think about what Elijah was doing upstairs. It was none of my business, anyway. But when I glanced at the clock, a wave of irritation hit me. 3 AM. Way too early to be awake, but too late to bother going back to the room I had slept in earlier in the end of the hallway. 

Sighing, I made my way to the guest room on the first floor. The idea of climbing back up the stairs again felt like too much effort, and laziness won. The moment my head hit the pillow, I drifted off to sleep, not caring about anything else.

—

A loud scream and the sound of furniture crashing startled me awake. I sat up, eyes still heavy with sleep, and was about to open the door when a familiar voice cut through the chaos. 

I knew that voice all too well.

Instead of stepping out, I grabbed my electric cigarette, took a long drag, and leaned back against the door, deciding to stay put. The tension and noise didn’t faze me. I just sat there, listening to the mess unfold outside, letting the smoke fill my lungs. 

Same old drama. Nothing I hadn't heard before.

“What the hell are you thinking, Elijah?! You still haven’t cut ties with that lunatic bitch?!” Elijah’s mother shouted, her voice echoing through the house.

“She has a name, Mother! Stop it!” Elijah snapped back, his frustration clear.

I just sat there, listening to their argument from the other side of the door, taking another slow drag of my e-cigarette. Their fight was loud, but it didn’t bother me. It was almost entertaining in a twisted way.

"She may have a name, but she has no face! She has no shame! And how long will you keep dragging your name through the mud for that woman, Elijah?! Someone photographed the two of you last night at the police station while she was smoking like some cheap bitch you could pick up on the side of the road!"

I couldn’t help but smirk. What a nice choice of words. 

“Mom, stop it! Stop this madness!” 

“And you think I’m the one being unreasonable? Oh my God! You’re so insensitive!” his mother shot back, her voice laced with emotion. 

I leaned back against the door, my fingers idly tracing the edge of the wall as I listened to Elijah’s mother unleash her anger. The words cut through the air, but I felt oddly detached from it all. 

“Mom, please, stop it! She also lost a husband! It's not us who only suffered on Matthew’s death!” Elijah’s voice was strained, thick with frustration.

“Then what do you want me to do, Elijah?! Act like she doesn’t exist? I can’t just forget the pain she caused us!” 

The venom in her words didn’t touch me; I felt as if I was watching a scene unfold on TV, removed from the chaos. It was almost amusing how worked up they both were over me.

“Have you forgotten?! When they buried your brother, that woman didn’t even shed a tear! She was just there like a fucking mannequin!” 

I rolled my eyes, smirking slightly to myself. A mannequin? Sure, I didn’t cry, but I had my reasons. Emotions were a luxury I couldn’t afford when everything felt so numb.  

I took another drag from my e-cigarette, letting the vapor curl around me. I could feel the tension outside, but it was almost entertaining. I was a ghost in this argument, observing the fallout of a past I had long accepted. 

“Maybe you should just face the facts,” I thought, smirking. “You’ll never be able to get rid of me.”

With that, I leaned back against the door, letting their words wash over me like a soothing wave. I wasn’t going to let their drama get to me. I was Eloise Hart, and I survived worse than this.