Chapter 12 As If Seeing Through Hearts

The butler led Eleanor to Mr. Bennett's study.

"Grandfather, Miss Patterson is here," the butler announced with utmost deference, standing at the door.

It was nearing nine o'clock, and Grandfather Bennett hadn't retired for the evening; he was practicing his calligraphy in the study.

"Mm," he responded without looking up, his brush gliding across the rice paper. "Come in."

This was Eleanor's first visit to her grandfather's study. The sight that immediately struck her was the towering bookshelves, stretching up to the ceiling with a daunting number of volumes—reminiscent of a library.

She'd heard that Bennett's late first wife came from a cultured family and had a collection of books to rival any scholar's.

Under the imposing black shelves, a palpable aura of tension seemed to take hold of her.

She averted her gaze, remaining quiet in her dutiful and sensible manner.

She greeted, "Grandfather."

Bennett removed his reading glasses, giving her a brief glance, and placed his brush in its holder. "Come, tell me what you think of my handwriting."

Eleanor moved closer to Bennett's side.

There was no denying his skill in calligraphy.

His calligraphy works were valueless, drawing admirers and collectors alike, eager for a piece of his works not just for their beauty but for their prestige and status.
On the pristine rice paper, the characters were bold and vigorous, as if dragons and phoenixes were dancing through the clouds—a majestic sight indeed.

"The wise know others, the enlightened know themselves," Eleanor read, her eyes cast downward.

"How does that strike you?" Bennett asked once more.

She nodded slightly, a smile gracing her lips, "Grandfather's calligraphy is wonderful, and the meaning is profound."

A flicker of surprise crossed Bennett's gaze. He had never paid much attention to Eleanor before. She wasn't his biological granddaughter, and had been eight when she joined the Quinn family. Their bond was not strong, and he knew little about her.

Yet, to his surprise, she had a keen mind and had grasped the subtle hint in his message.

"You understand, that's good. The Quinn family has had a reputation for integrity for over a century. This sort of incident is unacceptable," Bennett said, his tone softer than before, reiterating his point.

Eleanor knew he was referring to her acceptance of a gift from Peter, but she neither admitted to receiving the present nor betrayed her mother.

Grandfather was no fan of her mother, Victoria, and especially disliked Eleanor. Had he known that the package was from Victoria, he would have done more than just drop a hint.

Such a disgrace could even get her thrown out of the Quinn family.

And that would be devastating for Victoria.

"How do you view Aaron's actions?" Grandfather asked casually as he picked up his brush pen once again.

Eleanor's heart raced, her nerves tense, but she replied with as much composure as she could muster, Aaron protected the Quinn family's honor and saved me from trouble. I'm truly grateful."

Grandfather chuckled and handed the brush pen to her, "I recall seeing your calligraphy before—it's been quite some time since you last practiced. Give it a try."

The pen was put into her hand with such finality that refusal was not an option.

Eleanor indeed hadn't written for a while, but the skills she'd honed in the past hadn't been lost. While her writing wasn't on par with her grandfather's, it was certainly presentable.

She grasped the pen, and her strokes were deliberate, without any pretense.

"Your writing..." Bennett hesitated, tapping his finger at the edge of Eleanor's script, then declaring confidently, "It resembles Aaron's."

He turned his head to look at Eleanor.

Those wise, battle-hardened eyes seemed to see right through her.

Eleanor stiffened under his gaze, her mind racing.

Since middle school, she had been copying Aaron's works, and although she hadn't written in years, those deep-seated memories, like lines of well-coded software, were triggered the moment she touched the pen, running the program with natural ease.
With a soft tap of his fingers, Eleanor broke out in a cold sweat.

There was a knock at the study door.

Aaron stepped in, his gaze skimming over Eleanor before settling on Grandfather, "Grandfather, so you're in the study."

Bennett removed his glasses, "You needed me for something?"

"Why are you still up so late?" Aaron loosened the top button of his shirt and strode forward.

Eleanor's tightened fingers slowly relaxed, though her heartbeat quickened.

"Aaron," she murmured softly.

Bennett, holding his glasses, pointed at her, "Just catching up with Eleanor here. And you—I thought you weren't staying at the Family Ancestral Home tonight."

"I've been trying to call big brother, but can't get through. I need to see him about something."

Aaron moved to glance over the desk, his eyes brushing briefly over the rice paper with its inscribed characters.

"Leonardo's surgery wasn't successful. He's in a bad mood and probably won't come back," Bennett frowned, his mood dampening.

Eleanor shot a surprised look at Grandfather. How could this have happened?

Leonardo Quinn, the eldest grandchild of the Quinn family, had always been the role model for his peers and was raised as the heir.

Sadly, at eighteen, he had a car accident while protecting Grandfather, which left him paralyzed from the waist down and confined to a wheelchair.

From glory and pride to a life of defeat, Leonardo had long lost his past haughtiness.

It was only two years ago that he resolved to go abroad for his health and surgery.

Eleanor had always been close to him; he pampered her like a beloved younger sister.

Hearing about his failed surgery, Eleanor felt deeply upset. No wonder he hadn't replied to her messages.

Aaron's brow furrowed slightly, "Is Leonardo okay now?"

"It's natural for him to be upset for the time being. You'd better not bother him," Grandfather said, easing himself into a chair.

Eleanor's eyes caught a glimpse of Aaron's left hand resting on the table.

His fingers were beautiful—long, fair, with well-defined knuckles. That same gentle touch had once measured her body, a touch that no longer belonged to her.

She recalled Vincent wearing a diamond ring on his right hand, an engagement ring.

Forcing herself to look away, she addressed Grandfather, "Grandfather, if there's nothing else, I'll excuse myself."

"Go ahead," Grandfather gestured dismissively.
Setting down his glasses, he shot a glance at the preoccupied Eleanor and said to Aaron, "No need to call you later, Aaron. Day after tomorrow, Vincent has her engagement dress fitting. Make sure you find the time to accompany her."

Eleanor's pace faltered for a moment before she continued toward the door.

Just as she was closing the door, Aaron's voice came with an affirmative "Okay."

Click.

The door closed gently.

Eleanor lingered at the doorway, stepping on her own shadow, until the butler ascended the stairs and greeted her, prompting her departure.

The car from the dealership hadn't arrived yet, leaving her without a ride.

Grayson was off today, and she considered calling him to pick her up from the Family Ancestral Home when she spotted Wesley at the corner of the entrance.

"Miss Patterson, Aaron's asked you to wait for him in the car."

Aaron's car was parked under the shade of a large tree near the entrance of the Family Ancestral Home—a tree Eleanor could never name, which, despite the fall season, was always lush. Over time, it had become Aaron's personal parking spot.

Without a second thought, Eleanor declined, "No, someone's picking me up."

"You mean Mr. Davis?"

Before Eleanor could respond, he smiled and said, "Mr. Davis has been notified of an impromptu training session and might not make it."

Eleanor choked, quickly recovering, "I've called for a ride."

Wesley seemed to see right through her, "You know how Aaron can be, Miss Patterson. All the excuses in the world won't change his mind."

Frustrated and not wishing to engage further, Eleanor stepped away, fully aware that Wesley wouldn't dare lay a hand on her, but after just two steps, her wrist was suddenly and familiarly seized.

She whipped around to meet Aaron's cold, indifferent gaze.