Eleanor Bonneville Novels & Stories

The pain rippled through me but it was nothing compared to the pain in my chest. Marcus sat in his CEO chair, with Vivienne flanked behind him, her lips still curled into that triumphant smile that leaves me wondering where our sisterhood went wrong. I understand that we were never as close like sisters should but I have never imagined that she would be against me either. Even if she was, not in this manner. Not like this. “Elena has committed treason against me and the entire Hartwell Group.” I heard Marcus say—cold and authoritative—echoing through the conference hall.

Brittany shrugged, tilting her chin up with a smug smile, “My mother had it flown in directly from Milan. It is one-of-a-kind.” “You look like a real queen,” another classmate added, feeding her ego. “Well, someone has to keep the standards high around here,” Brittany replied, her eyes scanning the gates when the whispers around her instantly died down as the heavy iron gates opened once more and Eleanor and Eric stepped onto the path. Eleanor was dressed in a breathtaking, silvery-white dress that glowed with every movement and twinkled like fallen snow, making her look like an ethereal winter princess. The elegance of her silhouette had heads turning in unison.

He didn't waste time. Eleanor was in the formal sitting room when I walked in — She didn't look surprised to see me, the room she reserved for conversations that were meant to sound civilized, no matter how ugly they became. She was dressed for the afternoon, pearls on, the house moving around her with the quiet efficiency of a machine she'd been running for thirty years. I didn't bother with a greeting. "Vivienne used your name," I was still pulling out the chair when I said it. "She asked junior staff for 'funeral memory photos. While everyone else was burying Augustus"

The golden pavilion of the Metropolitan Museum buzzed with the high-society elite, but around the small circle of the Vance and Sterling families, the atmosphere had dropped to a sub-zero chill. "Alexander! Seraphina, darling!" Eleanor’s voice was high-pitched and dripping with false maternal affection as she closed the distance between them. Her silk wrap fluttered, and the heavy pearls cascading down her neck clicked softly against one another. "What a magnificent turnout. We are just so incredibly proud to see our girl settling into the Sterling family so beautifully. It truly feels like a match ordained by heaven."

She paid the bills, collected her medication, and called a cab. The ride back to the house she shared with Nicholas was quiet. She spent the whole time looking out the window as the city passed by in a blur. The cab stopped in front of the huge mansion that was her home. Or at least, it was supposed to be. But it had never felt like one. Eleanor paid the driver and made her way inside. The first person to greet her as soon as she stepped in was the housekeeper, Luna. “Mrs. Beaumont, you’re back!”

Cassandra, as always, would take advantage of people's weaknesses. Eleanor, who had been about to leave after going to the bathroom, put her phone away in her bag after hanging up. Raising her head, she looked in the mirror — her hair was a little messy, and there was a trace of struggle in her eyes. She took a deep breath. Lowering her head, she splashed cold water on her face. About ten minutes or so later, Eleanor returned to the coffee shop from the bathroom. What she didn't realise was that when the waitress in the coffee shop saw her return to sit opposite Writer Vane, a strange look flashed in her eyes.

And standing in front of it was Eleanor. She wasn't wearing a lab coat. She was wearing a simple, dark dress, her hair disheveled, her eyes sunken. She looked like a woman who had been living in a bunker for weeks, which she had. She didn't look up when we entered. She was staring at the glass cylinder with a look of terrifying, maternal longing. "She’s almost ready," Eleanor said. Her voice was a dry rasp, devoid of its usual melodic control. "The lattice is 98% mapped. She won't have your flaws, Isabella. She won't have the Sterling corruption. She’ll be the perfect archive."

Then, she turned and carefully helped another figure out of the car. Eleanor. She was a vision of carefully constructed frailty. She leaned heavily on an ornate walking stick, her other hand gripping Victoria’s arm as if she would collapse without the support. She was paler than usual, her posture stooped, every movement was a calculated performance of weakness. The Eleanor I knew was very strong. She never joked with her health. The cameras went into a frenzy, the clicking and flashing intensified. They ate it up. They bought her shit. Damien stood frozen, his earlier defiance evaporating as he watched the masterful play unfold.

“I heard about your parents just now. Good for you, standing up to them. They’ve been insufferable for years, always going on about their perfect Vivienne while ignoring what a gem they had in you.” I blinked, surprised. “You know about that?” “Darling, everyone knows. Catherine Sinclair has been boring people about her twins for decades. Some of us were just waiting for you to finally show them what you’re made of.” She winks. “Marrying a billionaire and making your sister look like the fool she is? Perfect revenge.” Despite everything, I laugh. “I like you,” Eleanor declares. “Dante, you’ve chosen well. Don’t fuck it up.”

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