Chipettes Eleanor Novels & Stories

And I had my own empire to take care of. So in a way, I enabled this. I’m about to signal Benedetti to take her to safety while I gun down the place, but before I can act on it, Madame Eleanore reappears and puts a small paddle with the number sixty on the couch, winking at me. “If you like her, you better be ready to make it all rain,” she chirps at me happily, pointing at the little paddle meaningfully. Then she reaches over and taps Chiara on the shoulder. “Come on now, show the young man what you can do.”

“Damian.” The sound of that voice—firm, feminine, and far too calm for the moment—sliced through the haze like a bucket of ice water. His mother. Damian froze. So did Isabella. They turned, slowly, as if moving faster might shatter what little dignity they had left. Mrs. Eleanor Knight stood at the open door of the office. Elegant. Composed. Amused. She wore a navy Chanel suit, pearls at her ears and throat, her silver hair swept into a sleek chignon. In her hands: a white porcelain tray stacked with homemade chocolate chip cookies.

They all instantly got to work, everyone seeming to know their roles. Eleanor began to role up her sleeves. "What are you doing?" "Getting ready to cook with you." "Oh no, you are our guest. Let us serve you." Eleanor scoffed, "Yeah, no. I want to. Besides, I have help, right Chelo?" She looked down at the little one by her side. Jochelo jumped and shouted a loud yes, causing the women to laugh. "Well then, let us begin." Litea said, leading Eleanor, Anna, and Jochelo away. As they walked, Anna pressed up against Eleanor, and whispered,

KNIGHT MANSION Eleanor paced the room, her mobile pressed tightly against her ear, while Millie’s voice echoed with concern. “Millie, calm down,” Eleanor urged, her tone firm yet reassuring. “I'll talk to Mr. Smith. And no, your job is not at risk. I won't find another Professional Assistant like you." Millie, Eleanor’s trusted Personal Assistant, had called again with updates on their client, Mr. Smith. The upcoming shoot for a baby care product was crucial, with significant funds already invested. Eleanor couldn't afford to cancel the contract, not just financially but also for her career's sake.

Eleanor wore a sleek black dress, her confidence unshaken as they walked through the doors. Heads turned. Conversations halted. And at the center of the room, sipping a glass of wine, was Charles Whitmore. His lips curled into a smirk as he leaned back in his chair. “So,” Whitmore said as they approached. “The golden couple of Napa finally steps into the light.” Daniel pulled out a chair for Eleanor before sitting across from him. “You’ve been busy, Whitmore,” Daniel said smoothly. Whitmore chuckled. “Just keeping an eye on my investments.”

They were both tiny and beautiful, but so far they seemed as different as chalk and cheese. She had noticed that Eleanor didn’t seek attention at all. She dressed comfortably and simply. The fabric was as fine as any lady, but the dresses were not as elaborate and had fewer layers. She was well spoken in English, knew little Scotts, and was keen to pick up more. She was often quiet, and she seemed to hide from men whenever she could. That Izzy understood. Perhaps as bonny as she was, Eleanor had learned what men would do if given the chance and started hiding for the same reasons she herself hid from her father and his friends. Ellie was the kindest and most gentle soul Izzy had ever met, wi

Sophia said, instantly drawing Eleanor’s attention directly to her. Eleanor turned, looking at her with a puzzled expression. “Do I know you?” “Sophia Simone,” Sophia introduced herself, stretching out her hand for Eleanor to shake. However, Eleanor just stared at her hand with a cold expression. Sophia quickly retracted her hand, clearing her throat. “I am the Senior Consultant at King’s Construction.” “You work with Eric?” Eleanor asked, her eyes narrowing slightly before a look of sudden realization washed over her features. “Ah, you are the woman who was standing by Eric’s side during my father’s memorial celebration,” she said, humming softly at the thought.

Eleanor gushed. “It looks better here than in their ads.” “That alone is awesome,” I said. “Let's find some pool chairs or something before you dive in.” “I need some alcohol. No way am I leaving this place sober” Cassie said, downing the glass she brought from the limo. Eleanor and I laughed at her. “I'm just going to watch you be stupid with my camera.” Cassie raised her middle fingers and I snorted. We found two pool chairs which was enough. They were close to the pool though.

She picked up a rock and ran towards Lucien, intending to attack him with the rock in her hand. "Duuukkk ..." "Ugh ..." Lucien immediately kicked Eleanor's stomach, just before the rock landed on his head. Princess Eleanor grimaced in pain and fell to her knees, holding her stomach. "You bastard! do you know why I asked you to this place? I want you to be the food of my hungry dogs!" *** theoodof my hungry dogs!" ***

But the power dynamic had shifted completely. “Sit,” she commanded, gesturing to the same chairs we'd occupied during her previous attempt at intimidation. “We'll stand,” Killian replied. “Suit yourself.” Eleanor settled into her throne-like chair with theatrical grace. “Now, what's this about?” “Isabella Martinez.” Eleanor's expression didn't change, but something flickered behind her eyes. “I'm afraid I don't know anyone by that name.” “Maria Santos, then. Professional actress from Barcelona.” “Still not ringing any bells.”