All Chapters of Fated love: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

‎Jackson blinked twice, certain his eyes were deceiving him. Eleanor — the Eleanor Hart of the silver screen — sat there in his club as though she belonged to another, more refined world. Her posture was composed, elegant, a quiet storm wrapped in silk and poise. Even the low lighting couldn’t dim her radiance.‎‎For a moment, he simply stood still, absorbing the sight. Then, his signature smirk tugged at his lips as he sauntered toward her, exuding that effortless charm that had always been his armor.‎‎“Well, well,” he drawled as he approached. “Look who fate decided to drop into my world tonight.”‎‎Eleanor turned her head slightly, her glossy dark hair brushing her shoulder as she met his gaze. Her smile was faint — polite, practiced. “Mr. Royce,” she said in that melodic voice that could make even a simple greeting sound like a performance. “It’s been a while.”‎‎Jackson slid into the seat beside her, his eyes drinking her in like a man deprived of art and beauty. “A surprise

‎The Week That Followed‎‎Days passed faster than either of them expected. The week blurred into a rhythm of work, shared glances, quiet breakfasts, and unspoken warmth.‎‎Edward found himself distracted during meetings, his thoughts drifting to the way Claire would frown at her computer screen when she was deep in focus, or how her laughter could dissolve his worst moods in seconds.‎‎Claire, on the other hand, found herself trying — and failing — to keep her heart from fluttering every time he called her his girlfriend in private. There was a depth to the way he looked at her lately — as if he was seeing something he hadn’t realized he was missing all his life.‎‎And before they knew it, the weekend arrived.‎‎‎---‎‎Saturday: The Celebration Awaits‎‎The morning of Edward’s grandfather’s birthday began with the buzz of anticipation. Edward had already dressed sharply — navy suit, silver tie, the kind of quiet elegance that spoke of his upbringing. He stood by the car, check

‎The orchestra’s melody deepened, flowing through the ballroom like a living heartbeat. Edward sat back, one arm draped casually over his chair as he watched Claire. Her laughter came softly, blending with the music, a sound that had the strange power to quiet the noise around him. Every time she turned to him, her eyes glimmered through the mask, full of warmth and mischief.‎‎But Edward’s senses were too sharp not to notice the subtle shift in the air — the glances, the whispers, the unspoken curiosity of people who lived for gossip. He could already tell some of them were watching him, waiting for something, though he didn’t yet realize his brother Conrad had already begun setting the stage for embarrassment.‎‎Meanwhile, Eleanor had slipped into the crowd, her mind a blur after her awkward exchange with Jackson. She needed a moment to breathe, to shake off the tension that lingered in his eyes when he’d called her name. But she couldn’t quite escape the strange pull she felt tow

‎Morning comes quietly to the Smith manor — too quietly. The golden light that once danced through the grand hall the night before now filters weakly through the curtains of a bedroom upstairs. Outside, the world is calm, birds chirping faintly beyond the windows, but inside the air is thick with something heavier — regret, confusion, and the remnants of a night that no one fully remembers.‎‎Edward stirs first.‎‎A deep frown creases his forehead as his senses begin to return. His head feels heavy, his throat dry as sand. He blinks against the bright light slicing through the curtains, his mind foggy. Slowly, he pushes himself upright, groaning as he feels the ache in his limbs. His vision adjusts, and he looks around — the room is unfamiliar. The faint scent of perfume lingers in the air, sweet but cloying.‎‎Then he turns his head to the side.‎His entire body goes still.‎‎There’s a woman lying beside him — her hair tousled, her skin bare beneath the sheets. Edward’s heart sto

‎Meanwhile, across the quiet city, Eleanor sits alone in her bathroom, her trembling hands gripping a small white stick. The silence feels deafening. The result appears clearly—two red lines. She stares at it for a long time, her reflection in the mirror blurring as tears fill her eyes.‎‎Her knees grow weak. She sinks to the cold tiled floor, the test falling beside her with a dull sound. Her heart beats painfully against her chest. Pregnant. The word repeats in her mind, relentless, echoing against every wall of her thoughts.‎‎Her throat tightens, her breaths come in ragged gasps. “No…” she whispers. “Not now… not like this.”‎‎Her mind drifts instantly to Edward. The man who once made her heart race with hope, who now barely looks her way. She knows what this means. He doesn’t love her anymore—if he ever did. And if he couldn’t even keep Claire’s child, what would he do if he knew about hers?‎‎A bitter laugh escapes her lips, choked and sad. “He doesn’t even care about me… no