Chapter 82

In the end, Eleanor chose a local hotpot restaurant. The steaming, spicy broth and the array of fresh ingredients seemed out of place with Nathaniel in his tailored suit, but she didn’t care.

Truthfully, she wasn’t sure what Nathaniel was trying to achieve. Was he still treating her as a pawn in his game? But his recent actions didn’t quite align with that. Even during their marriage, they rarely dined out alone. He would gift her expensive jewelry, but never something as personal as a cake. Now, his behavior felt almost... like he was trying to win her over.

The thought flickered in her mind, but she quickly dismissed it.

"Do you like this place?" Nathaniel asked, unfazed as he took the seat across from her.

"Yes," Eleanor replied, nodding. "I grew up in Creston City. Spicy food is in my blood."

But after returning to the Harrison family, she was forbidden from indulging in such meals. In their world, food had a hierarchy—spicy dishes were at the bottom. They caused flushed lips, teary eyes, and lingering tastes, all of which were deemed unacceptable at the Harrison dinner table. The same rules applied in the Carter household.

Honestly, Eleanor wasn’t particularly passionate about food. Right now, she was more curious about Nathaniel’s reaction. But he remained stoic, his calm demeanor leaving her slightly disappointed.

She didn’t press further, focusing instead on her meal.

"Here," Nathaniel said suddenly, sliding an invitation across the table.

Eleanor froze when she saw the name on the card. "What’s this?" she asked, her voice steady but her heart racing.

"It’s a charity auction," he replied. "Would you like to attend?"

Eleanor pursed her lips, her silence speaking volumes. Nathaniel didn’t hesitate. "We’ll go together next month."

Her fists clenched under the table. "Why?" she asked, unable to hold back.

"Why what?"

"Why take me?" Eleanor’s voice was sharp. "Mr. Carter, don’t you think you’re crossing a line?"

As soon as the words left her mouth, she noticed the subtle shift in his gaze.

She pushed the invitation back toward him. "Even if I did go, it wouldn’t matter. I don’t have the means to bid on anything."

Nathaniel fell silent, his expression unreadable.

Eleanor didn’t look at him again, focusing on her food.

Then, out of nowhere, Nathaniel chuckled. "Do whatever you want," he said, standing up and walking away.

The invitation remained on the table, a silent reminder of his presence.

It wasn’t until he was out of sight that Eleanor slowly lifted her head, her eyes fixed on the card. It was just a piece of paper, but at that moment, it felt unbearably heavy.

The waiter approached with another dish, about to place it on top of the invitation. Eleanor quickly reached out and grabbed it.

"Sorry, I didn’t see it," the waiter apologized.

Eleanor shook her head. "It’s fine."

"Actually, ma’am, we have a birthday month promotion. If it’s your birthday this month, showing your ID will get you a complimentary dessert."

"It’s not..." Eleanor started to decline, but then she remembered.

In a few days, it would be Nathaniel’s birthday.

The next day, Nathaniel drove himself to Carter Manor. Victoria had gone abroad for a jewelry exhibition, leaving only Clara at the estate.