Chapter 1
### Riverford: The Airfield “Nightingale… Nightingale…” Clara Meadows held her phone in trembling hands, anxiously wringing them in front of her. Her expression was hesitant as she looked into the eyes of Eleanor Nightingale, who was seated comfortably in the VIP lounge, carefully removing her makeup. Eleanor’s figure was elegantly outlined in a striking red mermaid gown, and her flowing long hair gave off a captivating scent. Noticing Clara’s troubled look, Eleanor paused in her makeup routine, a faint smile slipping onto her face. “What is it?” With a soft sigh, Clara replied, “I just heard back from the company. The executives have decided to cast Lydia Hawthorne as the lead in 'Beauty's Lament.'” Eleanor’s smile faded, revealing a more distant expression. She gazed into the mirror, her eyes cooling in intensity. “Which executive board?” Eleanor finished her makeup removal, revealing a natural beauty that was both delicate and striking. Her long, well-shaped eyebrows were perfectly defined, and her thick eyelashes framed her captivating eyes that seemed to pierce through the air. Eleanor possessed the type of striking features that could easily weaken a strong man with just a smile, yet it seemed these attributes hadn’t been enough to break through the industry’s barriers. Clara watched Eleanor closely, feeling a pang of sympathy. In an industry full of breathtaking beauties, none rivaled Eleanor’s face. Unfortunately, despite having resources at her disposal, Eleanor had yet to find her breakout moment in the last two years, leaving her still struggling on the lower rungs of the industry ladder. Clara sensed a force working against Eleanor’s ascent. Otherwise, with such beauty, she would have long since joined the ranks of the leading stars. “You’ve been shooting in Seaside Town for the past two months, so you might not be aware of everything going on. I heard from a little bird at the company that Lydia Hawthorne has been cozying up to Sebastian.” Clara leaned closer to Eleanor, whispering the details. Sebastian Ashford was the formidable head of Merrick Entertainment, a prince among the highborn of Riverford’s elite. Clara continued her tale, oblivious to the surprise and contemplation gradually forming in Eleanor’s expression. Lydia Hawthorne was the latest darling of Merrick Entertainment, fresh off a series of popular online dramas that had skyrocketed her into the limelight. Eleanor had seen Lydia before. With her youthful girl-next-door appearance and an effortlessly sweet demeanor, Lydia was the perfect fit for the role of a high school sweetheart in any teenage drama. As these thoughts crossed Eleanor’s mind, she instinctively pressed her fingers together, rubbing her thumb and forefinger gently. Her hypnotic eyes fixated on her phone screen, and within moments, she opened her chat with Sebastian Ashford. The last message she’d received from him was two months ago. Sebastian had opposed her taking the job in Seaside Town, but Eleanor had loved the script, torn between his wishes and her ambition. She had ultimately decided to go against his desires, heading off to shoot, only to find that he had completely cut off contact for the past two months. Now it seemed he’d found a new favorite, a canary named Lydia Hawthorne. --- ### Royal Haven As she stepped into the Royal Haven, a layer of dust coated the luxurious furnishings and windowsills. It was clear that since she had departed Riverford for Seaside Town, Sebastian Ashford hadn’t set foot in this villa. Sebastian had given her this estate as a birthday gift—a testament to his generous disposition toward the women in his life. The villa was designed in a charming rustic style, featuring expansive windows that let in the gentle breeze, adorned with flowing white drapes that added a romantic touch. Eleanor slipped off her heels and padded barefoot toward the large bay window. The flowers in the garden were starting to wilt, a stark reminder that she had left in the height of summer, and here she was now, facing the fall. The warm golden light of the waning afternoon sun streamed through the window, casting soft shadows on the plush carpet as Eleanor peered out into the fading garden, lost in thought about yellowing leaves and promises unkept.
Chapter 2
Eleanor Nightingale had just finished tidying up The Villa when she noticed two missed calls from her best friend, Cecilia Rowan. Wiping her hands dry, she made herself a steaming cup of tea and dialed back. Two rings later, Cecilia's voice burst through the speaker, bubbling with energy. "Oh my gosh, honey! I can’t believe you’re back! Why didn’t you give me a heads up? I would’ve come to pick you up!" In the background, the ambient noise of The Wayward Tavern—laughter, clinking glasses, and the low thrum of music—was unmistakable. Eleanor surveyed the empty, cold interior of The Villa, her heart fluttering uneasily. "Cecilia, are you at The Wayward Tavern?" --- A short while later, inside The Wayward Tavern... "Girl, listen to me! There are plenty of fish in the sea! Why are you pinning all your hopes on Sebastian Ashford?" Cecilia exclaimed as she lifted her glass, adorned in a dazzling, sparkling short dress, her upper body framed by a thin, flashy tank top. Her hair was a striking silver, styled to embody that edgy, daring spirit. In stark contrast stood Eleanor. Her long hair flowed straight down her back, and the makeup she wore subtly downplayed her natural allure. She opted for a little white dress that reached her ankles, radiating an air of innocence and simplicity. Cecilia was Eleanor's closest friend, having known each other since childhood, though their social statuses diverged significantly. Cecilia was the vivacious daughter of the prestigious Rowan family, while Eleanor’s background was murkier as she was the daughter of an unknown father, raised in the shadows of society. At the mention of Sebastian Ashford, Eleanor remained silent, her lively, expressive eyes scanning the corners of the Tavern intently. Their gaze caught multiple sets of unwanted eyes watching her from the shadows. Noticing her hesitation, Cecilia shot back a glare at the onlookers before tugging on Eleanor’s arm, suggesting they retreat to a private booth. “I’m fine here; I'm actually just looking for Sebastian Ashford,” Eleanor replied, shaking her head. Cecilia's face fell. “Come on, Nightingale, what do you see in him?!” Eleanor didn’t answer, her eyes still locked on something in the distance. --- Meanwhile, in an exclusive booth upstairs... “Come on, man, you’re not going to check out what's happening?” one of Sebastian's friends urged. The commotion outside was visible on the screens displaying surveillance feed, and they all knew Eleanor was out there. Yet, Sebastian, a reserved, stoic figure, remained quiet as he observed. He watched as Eleanor exchanged some words with Cecilia, the latter displaying an expression of uncertainty. Moments later, Cecilia abruptly got up and headed off, leaving Eleanor alone where she was. One by one, individuals approached Eleanor, some bold enough to make unwelcome advances, attempting to brush against her. Sylvester Greystone, lounging in a corner, noticed the scene unfold. He seemed indifferent but couldn’t help but feel sorry for Eleanor. “If this were Ivy Brighton, I bet Sebastian would’ve dashed out by now. What a shame for such a delicate girl.” --- Eleanor kept track of the time, mentally tallying the minutes since Cecilia had left her side. Over ten minutes passed without a sign of Sebastian. She was painfully aware that he was in the Tavern but chose not to show his face. Was he bored? Had he lost interest? An unwelcome presence crept closer, closing the gap, growing more invasive. Eleanor’s patience wore thin. She focused her gaze on her drink, a cocktail that had been spiced up, and her expression turned icy as she stared at it. She locked her gaze on the glass for a few fleeting seconds before breaking into a soft laugh. The man beside her took that as a good sign, smiling widely. “Now you’re getting it, beautiful! Just come with me to Wainwright, and name your price! My dad’s loaded!” Eleanor turned her head to look at the overly confident man beside her and chuckled lightly, unable to suppress her disdain. “Screw you,” she muttered. In one sudden motion, she grabbed her drink and splashed it across his face. The liquid soaked through his clothes, staining his cheek as the man recoiled in shock and hurt. Eleanor quickly seized the opportunity to dart away before he could fully recover, slipping through the crowd. After letting out her frustration, she wanted to avoid being the next target for commentary in The Town Crier. But honestly, she wasn't overly concerned. This was Sebastian's territory; she would be safe as long as he was around. After following him for over two years, that much comfort she knew she could rely on. Cecilia waited for her in the car parked outside. Eleanor made her way discreetly through the throng of people, finally escaping The Wayward Tavern, blissfully unaware of the chaos left behind her. --- Inside The Wayward Tavern... The man sat crumpled on the floor, face pale as he clutched his abdomen in pain, casting terrified looks around at the crowd. “I... I didn’t mean to offend… I’ll go apologize to her... Please, show mercy!” --- (END OF CHAPTER)
Chapter 3
Eleanor Nightingale climbed into the car, feeling deflated. “Can you take me home?” she asked Cecilia Rowan. Cecilia Rowan Fortin shot her a skeptical look, exuding a sense of disapproval. “I’ve known Sebastian Ashford was a jerk for ages,” she sighed, shaking her head. “He’s even more heartless than I thought. I really can’t wrap my mind around how my brother ended up friends with him.” Eleanor inhaled deeply, bracing herself to recount what had just happened, when Cecilia’s phone buzzed, interrupting her thoughts. Cecilia glanced at the screen, a smirk creeping onto her face. “Ugh, it’s my brother. He’s probably calling to hurry me back to Fairwind.” “Hey, Oliver, what’s up?” she answered lazily, her tone casual. “Do you need something?” “Get Eleanor Nightingale out of your car. Now.” Cecilia rolled her eyes, but Eleanor heard Oliver’s directive loud and clear. “Wait, how do you know I’m with Nightingale?” she asked incredulously. Before he had a chance to respond, a pair of glaring headlights cut through the dark. A tall man swung open the door of a sleek Bentley and stepped out, his presence magnetic as he approached. His sharp features were handsome and refined, sporting a crisp white shirt and dark suit pants, a few buttons undone to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of his collarbone and neck. Cecilia stared, entranced, at his charming but aloof aura. “No wonder you’re acting all different… how can anyone resist that?” she murmured, wide-eyed. Eleanor remained silent, her own gaze locked on the man before her. She felt an immediate sense of unease. Was this really Sebastian Ashford, showing up like this? Surely, he’d seen everything. She cursed herself for letting her impulse take over earlier, nearly complicating things further. “Who could resist that kind of charisma?” Cecilia exclaimed, lost in thought. “It’s no wonder you’ve changed so much since you met him…” Eleanor didn’t respond, but her mind buzzed with thoughts. Yet speculations remained as the man stood there, his attention on her. His lips barely moved, but she heard him clearly in the silence. “Come here,” Sebastian Ashford mouthed, his intense gaze locking onto her. It was a strange confirmation; she hadn't been abandoned after all. Steeling herself, Eleanor exchanged a glance with Cecilia before sliding out of the car and moving toward him. Cecilia watched her friend with a mix of concern and intrigue. Oliver’s warning echoed in her head—“Eleanor Nightingale isn’t someone everyone can handle.” But now it appeared that Eleanor was being swept away. Sebastian stood like a powerful storm, his presence overwhelming. After two months apart, Eleanor felt a strange disconnection, caught off guard by his intoxicating, perhaps too strong, scent. Had he been drinking? Without hesitation, she looped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest, her fingers gripping tightly as if trying to seep into him. For a brief moment, time stood still.
Chapter 4
Two seconds. Sebastian Ashford remained unfazed, his hands casually stuffed in his pockets, completely ignoring Eleanor Nightingale's advances. Eleanor, with a flicker of vulnerability, curled her fingers around his neck, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder, inhaling deeply. "Sebastian, I miss you... don't shut me out..." She sounded as pitiful as a lost kitten. It took an agonizing ten seconds before Eleanor felt his hand on her waist, a gentle caress that made her exhale with relief. But unbeknownst to her, the deep brown of Sebastian's eyes was glinting with an inscrutable coolness, and his heart was a storm of indifference. With a single arm wrapping around her waist, he leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "Eleanor, cut the act. Didn’t you leave two months ago with such flair?" His voice was deep and sultry, painting vivid images in her mind. But Eleanor froze; an icy wave rushed down her spine. She looked up into his piercing eyes and stammered, "This script is incredible. I've been waiting for this opportunity for so long, I—" Then, hot, glistening tears streamed down her cheeks. Tears were a woman’s best weapon, and Eleanor knew it well. However, she also understood that a few drops wouldn’t be enough to soften Sebastian’s heart. He chuckled softly, though his eyes held no mirth. With deliberate movements, he pinched her delicate chin between his fingers. “What’s with the tears?” Before she could respond, he continued, “Save your energy; you’ll have plenty of chances to cry later.” — The Palace of Serenity As soon as they stepped through the door, Sebastian pushed her against it, her back hitting hard enough to daze her. His lips descended upon hers—a blazing, eager kiss that traveled from her mouth to her neck, then lower. The thin fabric of her dress barely held his attention. Eleanor knew he was venting his frustration, seeking revenge, and all she could do was endure it. When they reached the couch, Sebastian tossed a cushion to the floor with ease, pinning Eleanor’s hair with one hand, forcing her to look up at him. “Tomorrow, get someone in to replace this rug with something softer. For tonight, we’ll manage with this.” Eleanor was taken aback. What did that even mean? Under his glaring gaze, realization dawned on her, and a surge of indescribable dread embraced her. She felt trapped. — After a long time In the bathroom, she gazed at her swollen lips in the mirror, bitterness seeping into her expression. Sebastian hadn’t needed her; once he had exhaled his pent-up rage, he simply dressed and left the Palace of Serenity. In the living room, her suitcase lay untouched. She dug into her bag, retrieving two small white bottles, pouring a few pills into her mouth and swallowing them dry. The clock read midnight. She had no desire to keep fussing. Ignoring the disorder on the couch, she padded barefoot upstairs, curling up in bed with the light on, surrendering to a deep slumber. In a haze, she felt a coolness on her lips, the faint medicinal scent brushing her nose. When Eleanor slowly opened her eyes, Sebastian’s face came into focus, his hand holding an ointment. Was this some cruel joke? Hitting her and then offering her a band-aid? She almost chuckled but bit it back, clinging to her composure, not wanting her hard work to evaporate. Her tongue felt numb, making it difficult to form words. “Didn’t you leave?” She squeezed out a few tears, casting a pitiful glance at him, like a silent accusation. Sebastian didn’t reply. “Don’t move,” he warned, “you know my patience is thin.” Eleanor wisely stilled, refraining from any further protests. It seemed the storm had passed. Noticing her unusual tranquility, Sebastian observed her closely and reminded, “Eleanor, remember to be a good girl and listen.” His sudden command left her momentarily stunned. After a few seconds of silence, she forced a smile. “Okay.” I will be obedient, but only to a point. In the dead of night, countless solitary souls became sentimental and fragile. Eleanor wondered if Sebastian, too, had such moments, yet there were things she refused to drag out. So, after he finished applying the ointment, she grasped his hand, gazing into his eyes with unyielding sincerity and asked, “Who is Lydia Hawthorne?” Some days later. Sebastian was furious. “Who was that guy who had lunch with you today?” Eleanor replied nonchalantly, “Hmm? Oh—him? That’s the famous actor, White Sedgewick. You don’t know him?” Sebastian inhaled deeply, barely keeping his rage at bay. “What about the guy who visited your set?” Eleanor paused, pretending to think. “Oh, you mean the one in the white shirt?” Sebastian, now barely containing his anger, pressed further, “The one you were holding hands with…” Eleanor had an epiphany. "Oh, him? Just my past crush, Oliver Young. Nothing serious—” — Young Simon's voice echoed in frustration: “You’re driving Sebastian nuts! Driving him nuts!” (The End)
Chapter 5
Sebastian Ashford's demeanor was cold and calculating as he weighed the pros and cons. His eyes, once warm, shifted to a depth of icy detachment that left Eleanor Nightingale feeling icy in her core. Beneath this facade, a mocking laugh danced in her heart, even as she forced her face into a mask of sorrow. With tears brimming in her eyes, she slowly brought her hand to her face, letting the curtain of her lashes obscure the flurry of disdain swirling in her mind. In just two months, she had been replaced in his heart. "Aria, is it over between us?" she questioned softly, acutely aware of the lessons learned from her time by his side. After two years accompanying Sebastian, Eleanor knew exactly how to play the part of the perfect girlfriend. She wouldn’t push him or pry into his thoughts about their relationship. With a man of his stature, vulnerability was the safest route to take, a tactic she had come to master. Sebastian was a man burdened with immense responsibility, and it was a quality she found both comforting and confounding. “Don’t be silly. You’re just a friend’s sister, nothing more,” he retorted, his gaze still fixed on her. Eleanor felt her heart clench. She batted her fluttery lashes, her eyes red from the recent tears. “Please, just don’t be upset with me anymore…” She nestled into his embrace, seeking solace in his warmth. “Aria, if you want my forgiveness, it’ll take more than pretty words,” he breathed, his voice heavy with unspoken intent. Realizing where this was heading, Eleanor slipped out of his arms and pointed to her lips playfully. “Is this not enough?” His eyes narrowed, the corners of his mouth curling up in a sly smile. “Two months with no acknowledgment? Eleanor, you’re testing my patience.” Her heart sank. Wasn't he claiming not to want her just moments ago? “You’ve got to be kidding me.” With frustration bubbling inside her, Eleanor was starting to come to terms with the realization that the next three days would likely not be kind to her. Why had she ever thought she could manage to steer her way through the tempest that was Sebastian Ashford? It felt as if she had willingly boarded a storm-tossed ship with no land in sight. She only wished he had been a gentler captain; someone more generous who wouldn’t let her feel so thoroughly trapped. “Open up,” he commanded, his eyes locked onto her lips. A flicker of panic surged through her as she instinctively covered her mouth. “But… I just put on lip balm!” His gaze darkened, firmly pushing her hand away. “I know.” Oh, she wished she could believe that, misunderstandings were inevitable, especially not when he appeared to be intoxicated. Eleanor’s palms grew sweaty as she felt the gravity of his hold. No matter how much she pleaded, Sebastian showed no signs of compassion. “Eleanor Nightingale,” he said, gripping her chin and forcing her gaze into his with an intensity that left her breathless. “Do you know who I am?” Her lashes fluttered, removing the lingering fog of confusion. Beneath his rugged façade, she could see the weight of urgency mixed with insatiable desire. She gazed at his glossy lips, caught in a moment of hesitation before burying her face into the crook of his neck. “Aria…” she breathed, her voice trembling with longing. The room crackled with unspoken words as the moon hung high outside, casting a silvery glow on their intertwined bodies. After two arduous years, Eleanor had morphed from an innocent girl to a woman well-versed in the complexities of passion. From the day Sebastian walked into her life at eighteen, she had known there was an undeniable magnetism that would forever tether their fates. Tick-tock, the clock on the wall echoed the passing moments, each tick a reminder of her surrendering will. Eleanor had come to understand Sebastian's capabilities. Thus, she stored her energy, preparing for the inevitable struggles that lay ahead, unwilling to exhaust herself before the storm truly hit.
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