Chapter 130

Eleanor's POV

My cheek burned with the stinging aftermath of Evelyn's slap. The sound echoed in the air, leaving even the security guards frozen in shock. I touched my face, the heat beneath my fingertips a stark contrast to the cold wind.

I had expected Evelyn to be surprised, maybe even angry, but physical violence? That was new. Her eyes blazed with fury as she jabbed a finger in my direction.

"Eleanor Yates, have you no shame?" She practically spat the words. "How dare you show up here! After what you did this afternoon, preventing me from meeting Jace's parents?"

The security guards exchanged uncertain glances, clearly torn between their duty to maintain order and their reluctance to intervene in what appeared to be a personal dispute. I felt my own anger rising - in all my years, no one except Jace had ever dared to treat me this way.

My hand was already rising for retaliation when a firm grip caught my wrist. Jace. Of course.

"Stop." His voice carried that familiar commanding tone that used to make my heart skip. Now it just fueled my anger.

Evelyn immediately ducked behind him, her expression morphing into one of calculated vulnerability. The transformation was almost impressive - from attacking tigress to wounded dove in seconds.

"Let go," I demanded, my voice ice-cold.

"Violence isn't the answer," Jace said, still holding my wrist. "If you need to hit someone, hit me instead. Consider it payment for what I owe you."

A cold smile tugged at my lips as I glanced between him and Evelyn. Her triumphant smirk from moments ago had faltered, replaced by uncertainty.

"How touching," I replied, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "Such devotion. How can I hit you if you don't let go?" I shifted my arm.

I could feel Jace's grip loosening slightly. The moment his fingers relaxed, I yanked my hand free. But instead of striking him as he'd expected, I spun around and slapped Evelyn hard across her face. The crack echoed in the air.

"You-" Evelyn's shriek cut through the air as she stumbled backward, her hand flying to her reddening cheek. "How dare you!"

"How dare I?" I adjusted my sleeve calmly, smoothing out an invisible wrinkle. "I simply returned what was given."

Evelyn lunged forward, but Jace caught her arm. Her perfectly styled hair had come loose, matching her unraveling composure. "Let go of me! Who does she think she is? Some nobody who sneaked her way into the Harrington mansion?"

I watched her tantrum with detached amusement, noting how quickly her polished socialite facade had crumbled. The corners of my mouth lifted in a cool smile.

"Nobody?" I arched an eyebrow, my voice dropping to a silky whisper. "Perhaps you're right. I'm just Howard Harrington's granddaughter."

The words fell like stones into still water. Evelyn's face drained of color, her mouth opening and closing without sound. Jace's grip on her arm went slack.

"His... what?" Evelyn finally managed to choke out.

"His granddaughter," I repeated, savoring each syllable. "Though I suppose 'nobody' does have a certain ring to it. Less complicated than explaining how I'm his daughter's daughter, don't you think?"

The silence that followed was deafening. It was fascinating, really, watching her worldview shift in real time.

"You're lying," Evelyn spat, but her voice trembled. "If that were true-"

"If that were true, what?" I cut her off smoothly. "Would you have thought twice before raising your hand to me? Or are you only concerned about consequences now?"

I stared at Jace without a hint of concern for Evelyn's obvious rage. I really didn't want to look at him, but sometimes it was unavoidable.

"You should remember your place," I said coldly. "You're only my grandfather's adopted son. You have no blood ties to the Harrington family, and absolutely no right to inherit any part of Harrington International Holdings. To us - the real Harringtons - you're nothing but an outsider. Someone dispensable. So you have no right to demand anything from me. I'll hit whoever I please!"

Only those who truly know each other understand exactly which words cut the deepest.

"Understood. I'll keep that in mind next time," Jace replied, accepting my harsh judgment and belittlement with cold detachment.

He knew just as well how to wound me most deeply.

I turned and walked away. When you get used to something, it stops mattering altogether.

Evelyn's POV

My world tilted on its axis. Eleanor's words echoed in my head like a nightmare I couldn't wake from. Howard Harrington's granddaughter. The phrase kept repeating, each iteration making less sense than the last.

I sought refuge in denial, grasping at the familiar contempt I'd always felt for her. The shabby wannabe actress, the desperate social climber - those were the comfortable labels I'd assigned her. But now those certainties were crumbling like sand castles at high tide.

"That's impossible," I whispered, my voice betraying me with a tremor. My fingers twisted the strap of my bag, the leather creaking in protest. "The Harringtons would never..."

The proof was right there in Jace's face - that carefully blank expression he wore when confirming uncomfortable truths. My stomach lurched as memories crashed over me: every snide comment, every orchestrated humiliation, every time I'd dismissed Eleanor as nothing more than an opportunistic gold digger.

"Tell me it's not true," I pleaded with Jace, hating how weak I sounded. The manicured gardens of the Harrington estate seemed to spin around me. "Jace, please."

His silence was devastating. The gentle rustle of leaves in the spring breeze felt like mocking laughter.

"I didn't know," I stammered, the words tumbling out in desperate justification. "How could I possibly have known? She was just some struggling actress, she never..."

My legs threatened to give way as the full implications hit me. I'd spent months tormenting Howard Harrington's granddaughter. The man whose social connections could make or break entire dynasties.

Eleanor's retreating figure blurred as panic clawed at my throat. The irony was excruciating. All this time, I'd looked down on her as a social inferior, when she'd been born into the very inner circle I'd spent my life trying to penetrate. I felt sick.