Todos los capítulos de Married to My Enemy's Son: Capítulo 171 - Capítulo 177

They found Eleanor propped against pillows, considerably paler than Nadia had ever seen her, though her eyes remained sharp and alert despite the obvious physical toll the morning had taken. "You both look considerably more frightened than the situation requires," Eleanor said, her voice weaker but still carrying the same characteristic dryness that had defined her throughout every crisis this family had weathered together. "Eleanor," Caiden said, taking her hand carefully, his composure entirely gone now. "I know what the doctor told you," Eleanor said. "I insisted he be direct with me as well. I want to use whatever time remains properly, rather than pretending toward a recovery that isn't coming." Nadia felt tears falling freely now, no longer making any attempt to hide them. "I don't know how to do this without you," Caiden said. "I thought I would have more time to prepare." "No one is ever properly prepared," Eleanor said gently. "I certainly wasn't when my own husband di

The morning of the funeral arrived grey and quiet, a fitting reflection of the mood that had settled over the entire household as everyone prepared for the day none of them had wanted to face. The service took place in the small chapel on the estate grounds, the one Eleanor had specifically requested instead of any grander venue because, as she had written in her instructions, "genuine love requires no elaborate staging." Nadia's mother arrived early, having grown genuinely close to Eleanor over the years, and her own grief was evident as she embraced Nadia tightly before the service began. "She was remarkable," she said. "I'm so grateful I had the chance to know her properly." The chapel filled slowly with the family's closest circle: Cullen, Mei, and their children; Nadia's mother, Amara, and James; Blake, whose presence Caiden had specifically requested despite everything that remained complicated between them, understanding that Eleanor herself had valued Blake's fourteen year

May arrived with its customary renewal, the estate grounds blooming with the particular abundance that followed a long winter. Nadia found herself on a bright morning standing in the garden where Eleanor had spent so many of her final months, understanding that the arrival of spring carried a bittersweet quality it had never held in previous years. Harlowe joined her, now eight years old and increasingly thoughtful about the world around her, settling onto the bench beside Eleanor's empty chair with quiet contemplation. "Do you think she can see the garden now?" Harlowe asked. "From wherever she is?" Nadia considered the question carefully, understanding that it deserved genuine reflection rather than easy reassurance. "I don't know for certain," she said honestly. "But I like to think that the love she gave us, the way she taught us to see each other more clearly, continues regardless of where she is now. In that way, I think she's still very much part of this garden and part of

Years passed with the particular quiet acceleration that seemed to characterize family life once genuine crisis finally receded. Harlowe progressed through secondary school with the same fierce determination she had brought to everything since childhood, while Grace and baby Harlan grew rapidly in Singapore, their visits home becoming cherished and anticipated rituals rather than crisis-driven emergencies. By the time Harlowe turned fourteen, she had developed into someone genuinely and remarkably her own person: thoughtful, articulate, carrying both her father's careful analytical mind and her mother's genuine warmth, while increasingly asking questions about her family's complicated history with the particular directness of adolescence. "I want to understand everything," she told Nadia during a quiet evening conversation in the library, now old enough to process the full complexity that Eleanor's careful timing had always anticipated. "Not just the parts you've told me already. Ev