Eleanor Chipettes Novels & Stories

too. Eleanor’s lip curled in disgust. She wasn’t as stupid as her daughter, Chloe. Chloe saw a friend in Autumn; Eleanor saw a parasite. She had watched Autumn for years, hovering around the family, playing the role of the quiet, suffering mouse. But Eleanor knew better. She could see that there was something between Eric and that "Winter Girl."

ASTRID I breeze into the headquarters of The Michiavelli winery, trying to quel my ever mounting excitement. It’s not everyday that lady Eleanor — the baddest bitch on the planet if I do say so myself — calls me into her office. It’s not everyday that she has something “urgent” to discuss with me. Lady Eleanor is my role model. I love that woman so much, I would give her my kidney in a heartbeat if she asked nicely. Hell, I would force the kidney on her even if she didn’t ask nicely.

His face was full of pride as he quipped, "That scammer just now was so amateurish. She even wanted to impersonate our aunt! Doesn't she know that we don't even have a dad, let alone an aunt! Foolish!" Eleanor's face turned red from the excitement, like a ripe tomato. She nodded in agreement, "Chris, you are really clever. I almost thought she was a good person just now. She said she wanted to chat with me after the awards ceremony, but luckily you saw through her tricks first." ***

Anastasia hissed. “You will not talk to me in such a manner,” Eleanor spat, her eyes darkening as she glared at her. Anastasia chuckled, “What manner? Calling you out for being what you think I am?” “How dare you?” Eleanor hissed. Anastasia moved closer, a smirk on her face, “You can act all high and mighty as you will, but you will never be anything but a gold digger,” Eleanor raised her hand, ready to smack her on the face, but Anastasia was faster, grabbing Eleanor’s wrist and holding her back from hitting her face.

However, Eleanor was not too concerned about these rebellious elements because her stepmother had loyal followers who would confront and deal with those planning to rebel. Therefore, her current focus was on one specific action: to kill Ivanka. This was her ultimate goal. But now, Chiara and her family seemed so incompetent that Eleanor questioned whether she had chosen the wrong pawn. She narrowed her eyes and fiddled with her phone, trying to stay composed. Standing beside her was a tall, handsome man named Alexander Valentine. He was her trusted confidant and lover. Seeing her expression, he could not help but ask, “Your Grace, we actually have ways to help. Why did you turn them down?”

Scarlett replied, refusing to help inflate his already huge ego. “One you find completely sexy right?” He said. She rolled her eyes in reply. He watched her unwrap her fish and chips and began eating, a soft moan of satisfaction leaving her lips when she bit into a chip. “Goddess I'm starved.” She groaned, licking the salt and vinegar off her finger. Not even noticing that Elijah was watching her, wondering how he never really noticed some stuff about her. Her ears were pierced several times including her tragus on her right ear, which he could see from where he sat. She had dimples when she smiled, her lashes were long and her face was pretty expressive.

“Of course! After all, it’s our boss’s seed. I’m not just stealing his woman… I’m stealing his kid too. Just to piss him off!” She chuckled, choosing not to respond to that last bit. “Come on, let’s go inside first.” “Alright!” Inside, she introduced me to Eleanor. “Alicia, Everett’s high-paid, top-tier bodyguard.” Then she turned to me. “My childhood friend and personal assistant, Eleanor Smith.” I extended my hand and shook Eleanor’s with ease. “Hello.” “Hello, you can call me Ellie. Scarlett mentioned you… she said you are not only skilled but also a master photographer.”

“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.

His face fills the screen, tie loosened, whiskey in hand. “. You owe me a yacht for killing Celeste’s video.” Ethan smirks. “You sank one in Paris. We’re even.” Dante laughs. “Fair. Lila, you look smug.” I hold up the tablet, its Eleanor’s portrait, her eyes are narrowed. “Working on her villain arc.” Dante whistles. “Frame it. Hang it in the nursery.” I throw a pillow at the screen. “Out.” **** Eleanor’s Townhouse.

He might pop over for some quick chit-chat, then promptly return to his duties. However, this year was different. Eleanor didn't come alone, nor was she accompanied by Sebastian or Alex. Instead, she was joined by a very elegant woman, Michelle Xia, seated right next to her. This was Michelle's second appearance at Ye Corporation. Though many didn't know her, some recognized her as the woman who had once shown up on Alex's 30th birthday, causing the notorious workaholic to knock off early.