LOGINThe Valemont estate had once been a place of warmth, filled with the scent of lilies and the sound of her father’s booming laughter. Now, it stood like a mausoleum on the hill, shrouded in the gray mist of the morning.Eleanor stood in the center of the grand foyer. Dust covers draped the furniture like ghosts. The air smelled of neglect and stagnant time."It’s cold," Leo whispered, pressing his face against Eleanor’s leg."It’s just a house, Leo," Eleanor said softly, resting her hand on his head. "We’ll warm it up. Sarah is in the kitchen making hot chocolate. Go find her."Leo hesitated, looking at the shadowy corners of the unfamiliar house, but the promise of chocolate won out. He scampered off toward the back of the house, his sneakers squeaking on the dusty marble.Eleanor watched him go as her expression hardened."You are exposing him," Alistair said. He was standing by the window, checking the perimeter security feeds on his tablet. "Bringing him here, to the place Simone i
The heavy door of the armored limousine slammed shut, sealing out the flashing cameras of the paparazzi that had swarmed the hotel entrance. The interior was a sanctuary of cream leather and tinted glass, silent save for the hum of the engine and the quiet, contented sounds of a child unwrapping a chocolate bar."I’m sorry, Mama," Leo said, his legs swinging back and forth on the plush seat. "I didn't mean to be bad. But the elevator buttons were shiny."Eleanor didn't answer immediately. She sat rigid on the opposite seat, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles were white. Her chest was heaving with shallow, controlled breaths, the adrenaline of the confrontation crashing into the terrifying reality of what had just happened.They saw him.The thought played on a loop in her mind, a frantic drumbeat.Simone saw him. Lucian saw him."Mrs. Chen," Sarah, the nanny, squeaked from the corner seat. She looked like she was about to cry again, wringing her hands in her apr
The air in the cavernous boardroom was so thin it felt as though all the oxygen had been sucked out by the sheer force of Eleanor’s presence.The shouting was over. The legal threats had ceased. What remained was the heavy, suffocating silence of total defeat.Simone Rothschild sat at the head of the mahogany table, a position he had usurped only days ago. Now, he looked like a man sitting on a throne that was rapidly crumbling beneath him. His face was a mask of controlled fury, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the leather armrest.Across from him, Eleanor Valemont—now Eleanor Chen—stood calmly as she gathered her files. She didn't slam them. She didn't gloat. She simply tapped the edges of the dossier against the table to align them, the sound echoing like a judge’s gavel in the quiet room."The injunction is filed," Eleanor said, her voice cool and devoid of the trembling hesitation that had plagued her three years ago. "My team will begin the audit of the hostile takeo
YEAR ONE: THE EXILEShanghai was like a living, breathing organism of neon and steel. To Eleanor, standing on the balcony of the penthouse Alistair had provided, it felt like a cage made of light.The first six months were a blur of nausea and grief. She spent her days in the library of the Sentinel Group’s headquarters, reading voraciously about corporate law, international trade, Mandarin, Sun Tzu, and… pregnancy. She treated knowledge like a weapon she was sharpening. She spent her nights staring at the ceiling, her hand resting on the swell of her stomach, fighting the memories in another city of a man with eyes like storm clouds.Alistair was true to his word. He appeared in public with her, played the part of the devoted partner, and deflected the inquisitive press with the ease of a man who had been lying to the world for two lifetimes. But in private, he was a mentor."You are too soft," he told her one evening over tea. He placed a dossier on the table. It was an acquisition
The Grand Ballroom of the Rothschild estate was a cavern of gold leaf and crystal, designed to make anyone standing inside it feel small. Tonight, however, the mood was not one of intimidation, but of raucous, self-satisfied triumph.To an outsider, the gathering looked like the social event of the season. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the hum of a string quartet playing Mozart with mechanical precision. Waiters in white gloves moved like ghosts through the crowd, refilling flutes with vintage champagne that cost more than a mid-sized sedan.To Lucian Rothschild, it looked like a circle of vultures picking over a fresh carcass.He stood near the French doors that led to the terrace, his back to the glass. Ideally, he would have been outside, letting the cold rain numb the feverish heat in his blood, but appearances had to be maintained. He was the prodigal son now. The loyal brother. The fiancé of the year.He held a tumbler of scotch in his hand, gripping
The silence that followed Alistair’s declaration was heavy, not with peace, but with the suffocating weight of a reality Eleanor was struggling to accept."We will live," Alistair had said. "And we will make sure that child will live too".Eleanor sat on the edge of the sterile hospital bed, her hands trembling as they hovered over her stomach. The concept was alien, terrifying, and undeniably real. A life. Lucian’s life. Growing inside her while the rest of her world had been reduced to ash.She looked up at Alistair. The man standing before her was no longer just a business partner or a cryptic ally. He was a mirror. He was a man who had died, who had lost his wife and son in a fire set by his enemies, and who had clawed his way back from the grave for retribution.He understood the game in a way no one else could."If I do this," Eleanor whispered, her voice cracking under the strain, "If I go with you... there is no going back. Eleanor Valemont dies here.""Eleanor Valemont was a







