Chapter 39

"Oh, it's nothing. What have you been up to lately? I haven't seen you in months," Eleanor said, forcing a smile.

"Nothing much. I'll be around more often from now on," she replied, her tone light but her eyes betraying a hint of exhaustion.

The caregiver, a kind woman in her late fifties, casually began chatting with her. At noon, Eleanor finally left the hospital, her mind heavy with thoughts she couldn't quite shake.

To make her trips to the hospital easier, she had deliberately rented a small apartment nearby. The distance was short enough that she could effortlessly walk home with a parasol, shielding herself from the harsh midday sun.

Surprisingly, Margaret was waiting at her door. Her mother stood there, her face filled with contempt as she scrutinized the modest surroundings. With furrowed brows, she covered her nose and mouth with a handkerchief, as if the very air around her was tainted.

When she saw Eleanor, she blurted, "About time you're back."

Despite saying she would sever ties with the Bennetts, Eleanor couldn't help but ask, "Why are you here?"

"You think I'd be here if you didn't refuse to come home?" Margaret glanced at the rusted door on the side, her disdain palpable. "I see you've moved to a place like this after the divorce. You've gone nuts, Eleanor!"

"This is my choice, and you shouldn't have to get worked up about it," Eleanor replied, her voice steady. She was well aware of Margaret's disdain toward the place. Thus, she didn't bother to unlock the door or invite her in.

Margaret drew a long breath, her patience clearly wearing thin. "Did you just come from the hospital? You went to see her, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Eleanor admitted, her tone flat.

"Get this into your head, Eleanor—without the Bennetts, you can't afford to pay her medical bills!" Margaret's voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife.

"I'm aware," Eleanor replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Why are you still—"

"Why don't you just state your purpose here?" Eleanor interrupted, her patience wearing thin. She was unconvinced that Margaret had come out of pure worry for her.

Since the phone call from Thomas, she knew the family had something to ask of her. To save time and effort, she decided to be straightforward.

Margaret was about to answer her, but someone came up from the staircase. Eleanor's unit happened to be on the third floor, right around the stairs. When the person passed by, they casually glanced in their direction. Though it was merely a passing look, Margaret found it all too revolting.

Her face scrunched in disdain as she questioned, "Are you not planning to invite me in at all?"

Indeed, that was Eleanor's plan. However, in the end, she pursed her lips and unlocked the door.

The room was in better shape than Margaret had imagined. It was cramped and crowded, but at least it was clean.

After sweeping the room with her critical gaze, Margaret sat on the couch and placed a tablet before Eleanor. "Take a look."

"What's this?" Eleanor asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"Just take a look," Margaret urged, her tone impatient.

Albeit confused, Eleanor took the tablet and subsequently saw a photo.

"What's the meaning of this?" She placed the tablet back onto the table, her voice cold.

"This is the son of the Hughes family. He's 30—"

"You're the one who's gone nuts. I'm fresh out of a divorce," Eleanor said in a strained voice. "If I'm not mistaken, Mr. Hughes is disabled."

"And? Are you finally aware of how good you had it with Nathaniel? Why did you even divorce him? Do you know how many people were looking forward to this day so they could make fun of you?" Margaret's words were sharp, each one cutting deeper than the last.

"Now that you're a divorcee, this is the only kind of man you're entitled to."

Eleanor's hands clenched into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "I don't need your help, Margaret. I can take care of myself."

Margaret's eyes narrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. "You think you can survive on your own? You're delusional, Eleanor. Without the family, you're nothing."

Eleanor met her mother's gaze, her own eyes blazing with defiance. "I'd rather be nothing than be a pawn in your games. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

Margaret stood, her expression a mix of anger and disbelief. "You'll regret this, Eleanor. Mark my words."

As the door slammed shut behind her mother, Eleanor let out a shaky breath. She sank onto the couch, her head in her hands. The weight of her decisions pressed down on her, but she knew she couldn't go back. Not now. Not ever.