Eleanor Noble Novels & Stories

I searched his eyes for an answer, but whatever it was lay deep in his heart, a place I couldn’t reach with just my eyes. “She was brought back to life,” he revealed. “Elena?” My heart hammered as her name escaped my mouth. “No, Rhoda. She was returned from the dead by the moon goddess. And now my brother won’t rest until he finds her killer,” he answered. It was more relieving to hear Rhoda was back to life than Elena. Not that it did any good for both of us, but at least, it wouldn’t be on my side to struggle from the beginning again. I sighed, shaking my head as thoughts evaded it. “So what’s going happen. Everything’s in place, you need to do something,”

“And this is? He asked, pretending it was the first time he was seeing me. Mr. Gabriel hesitated, but he knew Sebastian wouldn't like it however he spoke. “This is Selene's daughter, her name is Eleanor. She works at the skyline group, but I guess you haven't noticed her.” He walked up to me and towered over me. Suddenly, I felt the air around me get stiff, and it became hard for me to breathe. He extended his hand and held my face in front of everyone, giving me a ferocious look. “How did I not notice such a beautiful face?

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.

Nathan said gently. “Yes,” she replied, voice steady, “I do.” He studied her face for a moment. “You’re not going there as the wounded daughter, or the girl they tried to destroy.” She met his gaze. “No. I’m going as the woman who survived them all.” The villa in Monaco was precisely what Anita expected of Eleanor—opulence disguised as taste. Marble steps. Classical columns. A sea view so vast it felt like an illusion. Eleanor was waiting on the terrace, a glass of white wine in hand, her icy composure untouched by the scandal that had rocked her world. She wore white, as if she could bleach away the sins.

News from Sidonia came quickly. Eleanor had reappeared under the identity of a painter. She had changed her pen name and no longer called herself Robin Bell. She kept her face hidden, never showing herself in public, making her debut as a new artist. Not only that, but she was also now living in a luxury villa Richard had arranged for her. As the one who saved Richard's grandmother, she was being treated with great care. Eleanor had already bought a plane ticket to come see Richard three days later.

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.

What he didn't know was that Eleanor was doing all she could to gather as much knowledge as she could, so that she could help him out whenever he had to work. "We have been planning, Andre. If they do come, we're more than ready. If anything, I just want to get this over with already. Punk needs to die, asap." "Hopefully you don't die with him." She smiled cryptically. "We'll never know." "Don't joke like that." She giggled. "Yes, father." As soon as they'd stepped out of the realm, Eleanor locked eyes with a woman. Her eyes were dark brown, rimmed with gold and evasive shades of red. Their eyes seemed to reach to each other, touch, and lock with an intensity that assaulted the air.

I managed to rasp, my vision swimming. She didn't answer immediately. The air in the cell felt like it was ionising, charged with a toxic mixture of ancient grief and fresh blood. Eleanor’s movements were sickeningly methodical. She peeled off her leather gloves finger by finger, then shed her jacket to reveal a black dress that clung to her like a second skin. In any other life, she would have looked breathtaking. Here, she looked like a high priestess of slaughter. "Eleanor," I managed to rasp, the metallic taste of blood thick on my tongue. "What about Aria? How is she? Where is...?"

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."

“I can handle a lot.” He laughed quietly. “Fair point.” Eleanor Knight was not what I expected. She was tall and sharp eyed. She walked into my apartment at seven and immediately looked at the plant on the windowsill and said, “Good light there.” “That’s what I said,” Grayson told her. “You have your father’s eye for light,” she said. “Whatever else he got wrong.” She turned to me and took both my hands and looked at me properly. “Leo Carter,” she said.