Chapter 1000:

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Sterling gestured to the butler. “Show the madam out.”

Two servants lifted Eleonora to her feet. She was a doll with its strings cut, a hollow shell. They half-carried, half-dragged her from the room.

After she was gone, Lara turned to her father. “Are we truly doing nothing?” she asked, her voice low.

Sterling stared into the fire, his eyes deep and thoughtful. “Let’s see what Donovan finds first,” he said. “If Cailin Morton is who I think she might be, this game is about to become far more interesting than any of us imagined.”

Lara nodded, a flicker of her father’s predatory light shining in her own eyes.

The heavy door of the waiting Bentley slammed shut with a solid, definitive thud, echoing the finality of Sterling’s rejection. It was the sound of a vault being sealed, a tomb being closed. In that one instant, Eleonora was severed from the Rhodes family, from her prestige, and from every safety net she had ever relied upon.

She collapsed against the leather seat, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. The silence of the car was oppressive, amplifying the ringing in her ears, the echo of her brother’s voice telling her that the Rhodes family did not pay for messes they created.

𝖠𝖽𝖽𝗂𝗰ti𝘷𝗲 𝗻𝗼vеls 𝗈𝘯 𝘨а𝘭𝘯𝘰v𝖾𝗅𝗌.соm

The driver, a man who had served her for years, glanced at her in the rearview mirror. Her face was a ghostly white mask.

“Back to the Van Doren estate, Madam?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

Eleonora’s body went rigid. The thought of returning to that house, of facing Donovan’s cold, suspicious eyes, was suffocating. She knew she couldn’t go back. Not like this. Not empty-handed.

A wave of nausea washed over her. The air in the car felt thick, unbreathable.

“Just drive,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Anywhere.”

The car pulled away from the curb, its movement smooth and silent, melting into the encroaching twilight. Eleonora stared out the window, watching the grand, unforgiving estates of Long Island slide past. She had never felt so alone.

She pulled out her phone, her thumb hovering over the screen. She needed to call the hospital, to check on Giselle. But a paralyzing fear gripped her. She was terrified of what she might hear.

Her finger trembled, suspended over the contact for Giselle’s lead physician.

Finally, the terror of not knowing became greater than the terror of knowing. Her finger tapped the screen.

The doctor’s voice was grave. The news was bad. Worse than bad.

Giselle’s organs were beginning to show signs of failure. The poison was winning. Time was running out.

Eleonora ended the call without a word. She clutched the phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. The smooth, cold glass felt like a weapon against her palm.

Despair was no longer a wave; it was an ocean, and she was drowning in it. Every conventional path was closed. Her husband. Her family. All doors had been slammed in her face.

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