Chapter 194

Quinn's POV

The setting sun cast long shadows across my desk as Serena and I finished reviewing tomorrow's court documents. I gathered my things, ready to head home, when her voice stopped me.

"Quinn?"

Something in her tone made me pause. We'd grown closer these past weeks, and I'd learned to read the subtle shifts in her expression. Right now, the slight furrow in her brow spoke volumes.

"What's wrong?"

"Have you... heard from Eleanor recently?"

The question caught me off guard. Eleanor had been unusually quiet. She'd promised to clear her schedule to support Serena during the trial, but I hadn't seen her in weeks.

"No, actually." I set my bag down. "Why?"

Serena's fingers fidgeted with a pen on her desk. "There's something you should know." She took a deep breath. "Eleanor... she isn't actually a Harrington."

"What?" The words didn't make sense. "That's impossible. Have you seen her and Grant? They're practically carbon copies of each other!"

"I know it's hard to believe-"

"Hard to believe? It's ridiculous!" I pulled out my phone, already scrolling to Eleanor's number. "When did you last hear from her?"

"About two weeks ago."

My finger hovered over the call button. Two weeks of silence from Eleanor was unprecedented. She was the type to send random memes at 3 AM or show up unannounced with takeout and gossip.

The phone rang. And rang. Just as I was about to give up, there was a click.

"Quinn." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

My eyes met Serena's across the desk. In that moment, we both blinked back tears.

"Where are you?" I demanded.

"That doesn't matter." She sounded tired. Defeated. "How's Serena? Is she ready for tomorrow?"

"Don't change the subject. Tell me where you are."

"I can't come back, Quinn."

"The hell you can't!" My voice cracked with emotion. "So what if you're not a Harrington? You think that changes anything? You have us - your friends. What are we, chopped liver?"

"Quinn-"

"No, you listen to me, Eleanor Yates. This isn't the end of the world. We're your family too, and we're not going anywhere. So whatever hole you've crawled into, get out of it and come home."

Eleanor's POV

"I'm fine, Quinn," I managed, my voice eerily calm even to my own ears. "Please don't worry about me."

"Don't worry? Are you kidding me? Elle, whatever's happening, we can help. Serena's already-"

"No," I cut her off, perhaps more sharply than intended. "Serena needs to focus on her case. And you... you're Spencer Sherwood's wife now. You can't get involved in this mess."

"Elle-"

"I have to go." I ended the call, turning off the phone before she could call back.

My eyes were burning with unshed tears. I hadn't thought about contacting Serena or Quinn. I couldn't bear to drag them into my mess.

Serena was already drowning in lawsuits, and her relationship with Lucas was... complicated enough. She had her own battles to fight. If she got involved with my problems, she'd have to face the Harrington family too. They loved each other deeply. But there were too many obstacles standing between them, too many things left unsaid. They had such a difficult path ahead - I couldn't let my problems distract them.

And Quinn... her situation was just as delicate. The Sherwood and Harrington families had been close for generations. Mrs. Sherwood and Clara Harrington were close, meeting three or four times every week. As a Sherwood daughter-in-law, even though the family adored and pampered Quinn, getting involved in my situation would only make things harder for her.

I couldn't bear it. My misfortune was my own to bear. I refused to let it shadow their happiness.

Now here I was, in the dingy motel on the outskirts. With my so-called mother.

After I fainted that day, I woke up here. A shabby motel room - small, messy, and dirty. Maya Coleman tried to make it more "comfortable" for me by changing the sheets. They're clean but worn so thin I can almost see through them. She took the couch in the living room area herself.

I don't refuse this arrangement.

I don't feel touched by her gesture either.

I just... exist here. Numb. Taking it all in with a detached acceptance that surprises even me. My mind feels as vacant as this room, refusing to process what's happening.

Until. Last night.

The thunderous knocking came at 3 AM, violent pounding that shattered the silence. In the past, such violent knocking would have terrified me to death. But now, I felt an eerie calm wash over me, as if I'd become numb to the world's chaos.

The brutal hammering was followed by the sound of the door being wrenched open. Then came the crashes - things being thrown and shattered. Maya Coleman's voice drifted up, pleading and desperate. "Please, lower your voice. Please. I've given you everything I have. I don't have any more money. Just leave us alone..."

"Don't you have a daughter? Pretty and gorgeous, isn't she? Go sell her! Sell her and give me the money, or I'll beat you to death!" The man's voice was guttural, dripping with menace.

"I really don't have any money left, I really..." Maya kept repeating, her voice trembling.

"I don't want to hear your excuses! Give me the money, or I'm going to sell your daughter!" Heavy footsteps approached the bedroom.

"Please, leave her out of this. I'm begging you - how much? How much do you want?" Maya's voice cracked with desperation.

"Thirty grand."

"What? Where would I get that kind of money? I couldn't earn that much for the rest of my life..."

"Then I'm taking your daughter." His words fell like lead in the darkness.

"No, you can't go in there..."

The bedroom door exploded inward with a violent crash. Through the dim light, I could make out a middle-aged man with a crew cut, his face contorted with rage. His bulky frame filled the doorway like a nightmare made flesh.

In the weak lighting, he couldn't see me clearly enough to realize I wasn't Maeve. He lunged forward, reaching for my arm. "Come on, move!"

My body was weak from days of fever and barely eating. After collapsing at the Harrington house, I'd been burning up for days. The fever had finally broken, but I'd hardly eaten anything since, just enough to keep myself alive.

"Don't touch her! Don't you dare touch her!" Maya's scream was followed by the scraping of a chair across the floor. She swung it at the man with all her might.

He froze for a moment, stunned by her sudden rebellion. Then his hand shot out, striking Maya with such force that for one terrifying moment, I thought he'd killed her.

Maya crumpled to the floor like a broken doll, lying motionless for what felt like an eternity.

Having dealt with Maya, the man turned his attention back to me, his heavy footsteps echoing against the floorboards as he approached.