Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine Novels & Stories

—Tristan— Eleanor was everything I’d hoped for and so much more. A queen in my game of chess, indeed. Noble and proud like a queen and arrogant and spoiled like one too. She made me want to break her. I emptied my scotch and hit the bar. Jerry refilled my glass. The whores had gathered at the other end of the bar as far away from me as possible. As usual. “She’s so beautiful,” the whore who had brought Ellie clothes said to the others. She was. Ellie was a masterpiece, almost too beautiful.

Three years old and already attached to a father he barely knows. The thought makes my chest tight. The bell above the door chimes, and I know without looking that she's here. The entire café seems to hold its breath as Eleanor Reid makes her entrance. She's magnificent in the way natural disasters are magnificent—beautiful and terrible and absolutely destructive. Her designer coat probably costs more than I make in six months. Every silver hair is perfectly in place, her makeup flawless despite the early hour. When her eyes find mine across the room, I feel like prey.

Hunter screams at me, and his eyes have this murderous look that makes my blood run cold. I’m actually thinking about running, but my feet feel too stiff to move. I can’t even make myself move when he’s holding me down with a glare like that. “Ten months ago, Hunter, you told me you found the solution to your little problem,” Eleanor says. Her voice is all clean and quiet, like she has perfect etiquette, but she’s still pinning me down with her gaze. “You said you’ve got the perfect woman. She’s resilient, building a tech empire from nothing, and she’s emotionally stranded. Therefore she’ll be the perfect candidate.”

And maybe, just maybe, that crack was making me see things that weren’t there. But the feeling refused to go away. It lingered. A faint laugh drifted up from the courtyard, light and melodic. I didn’t need to look to know it was Eleanor. She had taken to spending more time outside lately, surrounded by people, always smiling, always gracious. Always perfect. I exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down my face before pushing away from the railing. I had work to do. Reports to review. Matters that required my attention. But as I turned to leave, something caught my eye.

With luck, nobody had come this way in the past few days and the croft was as he’d left it. The smell of cooking onion pulled Eleanor from her slumber. She was warm, and comfortable, and could smell food. The soft sound of rain filled the air and something was wrapped snugly all around her. A niggling thought seemed to be trying to tell her that this was all wrong, but she paid it no heed, instead she burrowed down into the warmth and sighed contentedly. Suddenly the world shifted and she opened her eyes in surprise. The face looking down into hers was perfect. Dark brown hair framed a perfect face and equally dark eyes looked down at her with concern. Perfectly shaped lips curved slightly u

He said, referring to the combat that happened minutes ago. “Ofcourse,” the corner of Father's lips curved up. He directed his hand to the both female wolvens beside Alpha Reuel. “And this is the Skylarron’s Luna, Elena and their daughter, Stella.” “Pleasure to meet you, Oliver” Elena waved her hand to stop me from bowing my head to her. “I must say the description about your…beauty do not do you justice.” I faked a smile, hoping it doesn't come out as awkward as I felt. Elena wore a smile that brightened her face warmly. Her dark hair was swept to the back, braided and held with pins. “The pleasure is mine, Luna Elena.”

She didn't like the fact that it wasn't empty "Well, I’m only going to be here for a few minutes," she muttered to herself and adjusted her designer bag on her lap. She began looking around the dimly lit waiting area. The scent of strong coffee and cheap perfume mixed in the air, making her wrinkle her nose. A smell she hated She suddenly became aware of a woman staring at her from across the room. Eleanor became instantly irritated . The woman was dressed in worn-out clothes, her shoes slightly torn and her hair pulled into a loose, messy bun. She had that tired, defeated look Eleanor had seen in many lower-class people.

Olivia yells and tries to get to me. "I have no time for this drama," Eleanor rolls her eyes and in the blink of an eye, Olivia's heart is snatched out of her chest. My scream is full of terror, my heart stops beating and I don't know how to breathe. For some reason, Eleanor allows me to move again. I run towards Olivia and take her body in my arms.

Eleanor’s POV Freedom is not a plateau; it is a cliff. When I turned the Master Key and initiated the Seed Protocol, I expected the world to wobble, but I didn't expect it to shatter into a million jagged pieces of self-interest. For the first time in my life, I am not "CEO Richard." I am Eleanor, a woman living in the Coastal Hub of Cornwall, three hundred miles away from the empty, hollowed-out spire of the Richard Tower. We chose a cottage by the sea, a place where the air smells of brine and gorse, far from the "Resonance" that nearly consumed us.

“This weapon belongs to Eleanor Hart, who was declared incompetent by the same network of people. We are both here to demonstrate that we are precisely what he has spent years trying to prevent. Clear-headed. Angry. And in possession of records he cannot buy.” The men hesitated. That single pause was enough. Eleanor walked in behind me. The moment they recognized her the hesitation became complete stillness. She was supposed to be a rumour, a woman locked away and slowly erased. Instead she stood in the lobby in a silk robe and the expression of someone who had never truly surrendered her seat at any table. “Good morning,” she said. “I believe my place is still upstairs.” They stepped aside.