Chapter 35

"Get real, Eleanor," Caroline sighed, tapping her pen against the desk. "This is supposed to be a heartwarming romance—sweet, tender, and healing! If we publish this version, our readers will have our heads on a platter."

She leaned back in her chair, studying Eleanor's troubled expression. "You know what? Take a break. Clear your head. I'm giving you two weeks off. Come back when you're ready to redraw this with the right tone."

Eleanor nodded, sensing Caroline's resolve. Arguing further would be pointless.

Caroline tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "So, what happened with Nathaniel? Weren't things perfect? You had a life most women dream of—meals prepared, unlimited credit cards, and a husband who gave you freedom. What went wrong?"

Eleanor avoided the question, stacking her sketchbooks neatly on the shelf. "You haven't eaten yet, have you? Let me treat you to dinner."

Lavender Grove was Coppersville's most exclusive restaurant, a place where only the elite could gain entry. Membership was a prerequisite, and the clientele consisted of the city's most influential figures.

Isabella rarely frequented such establishments. It didn't align with her carefully curated public image. But tonight, she made an exception, drawn by the man seated at the center of the private room.

The news of Nathaniel and Eleanor's divorce had spread like wildfire through their social circle. Tonight's gathering was ostensibly to "celebrate" Nathaniel's return to bachelorhood.

Though Nathaniel was known for his reserved demeanor, he wasn't unapproachable. When his friends suggested the outing, he didn't refuse.

As soon as Isabella entered the room, she was bombarded with questions. "Is it true? Did your sister really divorce Nathaniel?"

They wouldn't dare pester him directly, so they turned to her for answers.

Isabella nodded slowly, her expression carefully neutral.

The group erupted into laughter. "After all the trouble she went through to marry him, she just lets him go like that?"

"I was shocked too," Isabella said, feigning innocence. "They seemed fine just the other day..."

"Bet she messed up," someone interjected with a smirk. "Probably threw a tantrum, thinking Nathaniel would cave. But he didn't, did he? He just let her go."

Another voice chimed in, "Tell us, Isabella. Is she holed up at home, crying her eyes out?"

"I don't know," Isabella replied, shaking her head. "Eleanor came home, had a huge fight with our parents, and then... she just left. She hasn't been back since."

"Wait, what? Where is she now?"

"I have no idea," Isabella said, her voice tinged with concern. She glanced at Nathaniel, who sat silently, swirling a glass of wine. "Nathaniel, do you know where Eleanor is? My parents are worried sick. She hasn't been in touch with anyone."

Nathaniel's expression remained unreadable. He took a slow sip of his drink, his gaze distant. The room fell silent, waiting for his response. But he said nothing, his silence speaking volumes.

Isabella's lips curved into a faint smile, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of unease. The game was far from over, and she intended to play her cards carefully.