Chapter 36 Unable to Marry Aaron
When Eleanor returned to Victoria's hospital room, her mother hadn't awakened. The nurse suggested she would likely sleep through the night. Exhausted, Eleanor had barely caught a wink of sleep the entire day.
After asking the nurse to keep an eye on her mother for a while, she decided to head home, change clothes, and grab some personal care items—Victoria was particular and wouldn't settle for just anything bought on a whim.
Fortunately, her apartment was not far from the hospital, making the back-and-forth manageable.
In the taxi, she stared blankly out the window, her mother's words from the brief awakening echoing in her mind.
Originally, Peter's introduction to Victoria through Camila hadn't raised any suspicions—after all, a marriage alliance between the Thompsons and Quinns was a bona fide mingling of families. Their good relations had earned Camila's trust.
Eleanor remembered Vincent mentioning that she had heard of Peter overseas, but the truth was that Vincent knew Peter personally.
It was all arranged by Vincent.
Including the recent incident where her phone number and photos were leaked online. The police's explanation hadn't convinced her, sensing someone was up to something.
And that was Vincent.
No wonder Aaron had kept mum about that incident—he knew Vincent was behind it.
Her partnerships had been falling through one after another, and those collaborators had ties with the Vaughn family. Looking back, it seemed the Vaughns knew better than to mess with her, given the Quinn family’s protection. Vincent’s handiwork was likely involved there as well.
So it turned out that long before she knew who Vincent was, he had already been aware of her existence.
Vincent had been strategically undermining her at every turn.
With all the recent ordeals, she was determined to confront Vincent and demand justice.
The car halted in front of the apartment building, snapping Eleanor back to reality. She scanned a code to pay for the ride and stepped out.
The hallway light had been out for some time. She had reported it to the property manager, who apparently couldn't be bothered to fix it.
Exiting the elevator, she was greeted by pitch darkness, save for the faint green glow of the emergency exit signs.
Fumbling for her keys, she used her phone’s flashlight to find the lock.
A sudden flash. She let out a piercing shriek, collapsing to the ground, her face completely drained of color.
A table by her door was set up like a shrine, with fresh flowers and an aroma diffuser surrounded by white satin ribbons, hauntingly resembling a memorial hall. The green exit light and the dim glow from her phone created a ghostly atmosphere.
And there, plastered on her door, was a huge black-and-white photograph.
It was Peter, sporting a wide grin, deceased.
It was as if he might crawl out of the photo any second, clinging to her just like that terrifying night!
Another scream tore through the silence.
The horrific images of that night flashed through her mind, Peter’s black-and-white face looming larger and larger before her, sending chills down her spine, leaving her completely paralyzed with fear.
The elevator dinged open.
“Eleanor!”
Aaron, guided by the light from the elevator, saw the eerie makeshift shrine at the doorway. His face fell as he rushed over and knelt to embrace her. But Eleanor seemed not to see or recognize him, flailing wildly, trembling uncontrollably.
“Eleanor!” Aaron furrowed his brow.
“Get away! Leave me alone!” She was frantic, not allowing Aaron near her, her pale face framed by hollow eyes.
A heavy feeling sank in Aaron’s chest, and he forcefully pulled her into his arms. “Pull yourself together!”
When Eleanor first arrived at the Quinn household, a tragedy had befallen her family. She was thin and small, and the Quinns treated her like an outsider. Those of her generation called her "Eleanor," while the household staff referred to her as "Miss Patterson."
Only Aaron, who had never quite taken a liking to her, called her "Eleanor Quinn."
He didn't care for her, but he treated her like family.
He gave her a sense of belonging.
Hearing the long-missed and familiar nickname, Eleanor stared fixedly at Aaron. The emptiness in her eyes slowly lit up as tears began to well. Clinging to him like a lifeline, she threw herself into his embrace. Her body was icy and trembling uncontrollably; her pallor was bloodless. She panted in short, uneven breaths, her fingers gripping his sleeve tightly.
Her tears slipped into his slightly open collar, scalding his skin.
Aaron tightened his embrace just as Eleanor fainted in his arms.
He picked her up and kicked the unlocked door open. "Call Ashton!"
It was half an hour later when Ashton arrived. Eleanor hadn't come to, but he checked her vitals, and all were normal. He hadn't seen the scene outside Eleanor's place before coming in, but Wesley had quickly filled him in.
Ashton spat out an expletive, "Despicable!"
No wonder Eleanor had fainted—any man would be frightened by that sight, let alone a delicate woman.
He glanced at Aaron, seated by Eleanor's bedside, holding onto her hand. In truth, Eleanor had not let go even in her unconscious state, and Aaron, unable to pull away, simply allowed her to cling to him.
Feeling superfluous, he remarked, "Everything seems under control, I'll head out."
Just as he reached Eleanor's room door, he paused, the tone of his voice serious. "You've always been the most level-headed of us. You know what to do and what not to do, so I won't preach. But have you considered whether she can handle this?"
Aaron remained sillent.
Sighing inwardly, he closed the door behind him.
Eleanor woke up just as Ashton spoke those words. She didn't open her eyes, wanting to hear how Aaron would respond.
But she heard nothing.
Of course, she was never a factor in Aaron's decision-making.
"Awake?" came his voice from above her.
She muttered a weak confirmation.
Her face was still pale, the contours barely visible, like a delicate object that couldn't bear the slightest touch.
"Rest up," Aaron said, letting go of her hand and getting to his feet. "I've already arranged for someone to look after your mother at the hospital."
Beside the bed, she smoothed out the creases in her shirt, the ones that had been tugged loose.
"Did the Vaughns do this?" Her voice was hoarse and raspy.
Aaron frowned. "Don't worry about that. Just rest up."
Beneath the blankets, Eleanor's grip tightened on her phone, reading the text from Vincent: [Surprise?]
Suddenly, she grabbed Aaron's hand, tears swirling in her eyes, her voice trembling with fear, "I'm scared. Can you stay with me?"
Aaron paused, looking into her eyes.
That look sent shivers down Eleanor's spine.
She had thought about how to get back at Vincent.
Vincent, the prized daughter of the Thompsons and soon-to-be daughter-in-law of the Quinns, wanted for nothing. The world bent to her whims.
But Eleanor's sole wish was to marry Aaron, and she would ensure Vincent's desires remained unfulfilled.