Chapter 60 You're Just a Stand-In

Ashton was mid-game, fresh from a rest room break during which he had been called a newbie posing as a pro. He was gearing up for a counterstrike when the door slammed shut.

In walked Aaron, a stormy expression on his face.

Was he angry?

As he saw Aaron flicking a lighter, Ashton worried that his friend's temper might literally set the office ablaze. He quickly stood up, "Fight with somebody?"

Aaron wordlessly lit a cigarette, tossing the lighter aside, and grumbled, “Stubborn as a mule.”
No need to ask who it was. "She's a girl, cut her some slack."

Aaron didn't respond but walked to the window, gazing into the dense night. "How is she still not back to full strength?"

"She should be recovering by the day after tomorrow if all goes as planned."

Looks like he'd have to miss tomorrow's engagement party.

He flicked ash from his cigarette and cracked a window, letting the brisk air invade the room. Ashton shivered. "I don't mind the smoke, you know."

After saying that, he closed the window again.

Now he noticed that Aaron seemed a bit on edge.

With a click of his tongue, he said: "Seriously, you’re a grown man. Are you really upset with her?"

"Why not?" Aaron shot back with an icy glance.

Ashton quickly surrendered, "Of course, you can be. You're totally entitled."

When Aaron fell silent again, Ashton shifted the topic. "We've secured the light health resort project. Shouldn't that make you happy? You've wanted this deal for months, planning since two months ago."

Aaron took a drag on his cigarette, silent.

"But keeping me in the dark, huh? I thought you were seriously planning to get engaged to Vincent."

"The Thompsons don't give up projects that easily." Aaron looked down at the flickering cigarette ember. "I had someone check out Vincent; he's been living it up overseas, not the settling down type. Once he’s back, he’s bound to slip up. Jonah can't stand imperfections, and with his career at stake, he’d surely have to compromise with the Quinn family."

Ashton had known him for nearly two decades and in this moment found him rather intimidating, his long-game strategy chilling in its resolve.

Such depth of character and ambition was beyond Ashton's desires or capability. The daily grind of strategizing must be exhausting, right?

"All this for the project... is it because of her?"

Her?

Ashton didn't specify which 'her,' but Aaron knew all too well.

He pinched out the cigarette. “Why ask questions you don't want answers to?”

Outside the door, Eleanor's grip on the railing tightened, her complexion almost translucent.

She had returned to her room to find Aaron's suit jacket left behind. Despite their falling out, she couldn't bear to see him catch cold, so she went looking for Ashton's office, only to overhear this exchange.

So Aaron had never intended to get engaged to Vincent from the start—it was all a pretext, a shallow cover for his grand ambitions.

She had actually believed...

Last night she had gambled, betting that Aaron knew her whereabouts, that Vincent's people were planning to harm her.

All because on that one night, Aaron had visited while she slept, gently checking her fever with his own hand, she thought there might be some genuine affection.

Aaronial had a plan, a plot wrapped in the guise of ritual, and now even the walls whispered of deception.
She had thought that his breaking off the engagement and using Jonah to punish Vincent was for her.

How wrong she was. Her arrogance had blinded her to Aaron's true intent—to expose Vincent's scandalous actions as a ploy to entrap the Thompson family and secure the project.

It was never about her.

Yet when Ashton casually mentioned that Aaron's schemes were all for the sake of the project, and supposedly for her, Eleanor could no longer sustain the illusion she had woven for herself.

The 'her' Ashton referred to wasn't Eleanor. She knew that quite clearly.

The entrance was eerily silent, as if no one had ever been there.

In the office, Ashton was left utterly speechless by Aaron's retort. "Fine, I'll drop it. Happy now? You talk about Eleanor being stubborn, but with your temper, anyone who likes you must be blind."

"How can you bear to be mad at someone as adorable as Eleanor!"

"Adorable?" Aaron's brow furrowed.

Unfazed, Ashton continued, "Yes, adorable. She's also beautiful, has a great figure, ambitious—she's all-around fantastic."

With each compliment heaped upon Eleanor, Aaron's expression darkened, as if his face might drip ink. "You're the one who's blind," Aaron snapped.

After dropping that line, Aaron turned and strode out of the office. But as he opened the door, he saw his suit jacket draped over the bench by the entrance.

He picked up the coat, his eyes as dark as the twilight.

The next morning, Ashton arrived to check on Eleanor's progress and noted her complexion was worse than the day before. "Did you sleep poorly?"

You can't hide such things from a doctor. Eleanor nodded. "A bit of insomnia."

"You napped too much during the day. Try to balance your sleep tonight; it's important for your recovery." Ashton instructed the nurse to take notes, then reviewed Eleanor's lab results.

"You'll be discharged tomorrow."

Eleanor managed to eat a little and, with the nurse's support, got out of bed to move around—her condition was much improved from yesterday, now able to walk without assistance.

Unable to sleep during rest time, turning on the TV, she caught the news of the Quinn and Harris families' formal engagement party at a prestigious hotel.

That's when she remembered—today was Edward and Natalie Quinn's engagement celebration.

Aaron had known from the start she wouldn't attend. By baiting her with questions, he intended to let her know about Edward's engagement, to snuff out any hope she might have clung to.

Realizing that the man who didn't love her still sought to control her, Eleanor felt like nothing more than a joke.
The phone on the nightstand began to ring, the caller ID showing a string of digits that didn't look like any domestic number Eleanor was familiar with.

She rejected the call, only for it to ring again immediately.

Eleanor hesitated for a few seconds before lifting the device to her ear. "Eleanor! I'm going to kill you!" The voice on the other end was hysterical, raspy and harsh; she didn't recognize it at first. It took her a moment to place it.

Tentatively, she asked, "Vincent, is that you?"

Huddled in the corner of a hotel room, Vincent had just taken her eighth shower, but the stench still lingered on her skin, the pervasive musk of those men provoking her nausea. No matter how much she scrubbed, she couldn't rid herself of the smell. Her throat was raw from screaming, both dry and painful.

All thanks to Eleanor. "Feeling proud, are you? Think you've beaten me? I'm telling you, Eleanor, I didn't lose to you. What do you even amount to? Do you really think Aaron likes you?"

Eleanor listened to her disjointed ranting, sensing Vincent was unhinged. "I never intended to 'beat' you. You're the one who made me your rival, Vincent. You brought this on yourself."

"Do you dare admit that you had no ulterior motives? Can you honestly say you didn't sabotage my engagement with Aaron out of spite? You did, you just couldn't stand to see me engaged to him!"

Vincent let out a cynical laugh, "But really, Eleanor, what's the point of all your scheming? Do you think Aaron's fond of you? No, you know who he truly likes, you're just... vaguely reminiscent of that person."

Then, with a soft, venomous voice, she hissed, "You're nothing but a stand-in."
Fleeing the Embrace of My Obsessed Husband
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