Between Love and Legal Battles

Chapter 1

Five Years Apart from Her Husband

The courtroom was a solemn place. As the gavel slammed down with a heavy thud, yet another case had been resolved.

“Isabella Montgomery, congratulations! You’ve won again.”

“Can you believe it? They brought in a high-profile lawyer from overseas, but you still crushed it, Isabella!”

Eleanor Hawthorne felt the ripple of praise wash over her as she gathered her papers.

She was slender, dressed in a sleek, tailored suit that hugged her figure, with her long hair neatly pulled back into a bun. Her crimson lips curled up just slightly in response to the accolades, but there was a cool detachment in her demeanor that hinted at her expert handling of praise.

Beside her, her assistant, Grace Hawthorne, whispered excitedly about upcoming appointments, her eyes sparkling with admiration.

In Ravenhurst, Eleanor Hawthorne was practically a household name. No matter how complicated the case, she maintained a flawless record—a hundred percent win rate that had begun to feel mythic within the industry.

Rubbing her temples, Eleanor couldn’t help but wonder why her firm was inundated with divorce cases lately; it seemed like clients were practically lining up at her door. But today, at least, she could finally call it a day.

All she wanted was to get home, sink into a hot bath, and finally relax after these intense weeks of never-ending legal battles.

As she turned the corner, a sharp, mocking voice cut through the air. “Oh look, it’s just a divorce lawyer, breaking up families for a living. At nearly thirty, I bet no man would want her.”

Eleanor hesitated, her pulse quickening. Competitiveness and petty rivalry were par for the course in her profession, and jealousy often found its way into whispered comments. But Eleanor had long learned not to let such jabs disrupt her focus.

“Whether or not any man wants me is none of your business,” she shot back, her voice icy. “Maybe if Kris Chandler spent less time gossiping, they wouldn’t miss so many details about their clients. It might save them the embarrassment they just faced today.” She paused, letting the words linger in the air. “Honestly, with how nosy Kris seems, they might find a better gig as a tabloid reporter.”

With that, Eleanor strode past her rivals in her sharp heels, her expression unreadable. Behind her, the assistant was left fuming, but Eleanor knew she wouldn’t give her an ounce of satisfaction.

Once back at her car, she decided to let Grace leave early. Finding a nearby restaurant, she ordered her favorite seafood pasta and nestled into a cozy corner booth, scrolling through her phone.

Yet the sting of the earlier insult echoed in her mind. No man wanted her? A soft laugh escaped Eleanor’s lips as her fingers brushed against the necklace that hung at her collarbone.

The pendant—a delicate circle adorned with diamonds—wasn't just an accessory. It was her wedding ring.

Yes, she was married. But that little tidbit was a secret she kept from everyone, even her closest friends.

How long had it been since she’d last seen her so-called husband? Three years? Five? She shook her head, trying to dispel the memories. Since the day after their wedding, he had vanished from her life completely, to the point where Eleanor sometimes forgot she was still tied to him.

Just then, her phone buzzed with breaking news. She almost swiped it away until something caught her eye—a familiar name in the headline.

“Love Affair Uncovered: Starlet Eliza Fairchild Spotted on a Cozy Date with Billionaire Heir William Ellis.”

A giant exclamation mark accompanied photos of the two looking inseparable, the tall, handsome man emanating an air of wealth and privilege. Eliza Fairchild's youthful beauty lit up the frame; together, they seemed a perfect match.

Though Eleanor didn’t frequently follow celebrity news, she couldn't help but recognize the name of Eliza Fairchild. The rising star was known for her pristine public image, with no scandals to tarnish her reputation; a rarity in Hollywood.

But it was the man wrapping his arm around her waist who made Eleanor’s heart sink—William Ellis, her husband.

She furrowed her brow, but her expression quickly returned to neutrality. After all, her marriage to William had always been a transaction, devoid of any real emotion.

To be honest, she was just a pawn shuffled into place after her older sister Catherine had cheated on William just a month before the wedding, leaving the family scrambling to avoid scandal. To appease his fury and salvage Hawthorne Enterprises’ reputation, Eleanor had been pushed into an unwanted union.

She would never forget the ghostly chapel on their wedding day, empty of guests, bereft of any warmth. The only thing William had offered her was a box containing her wedding ring and the stony remark, “Don’t get your hopes up about this marriage. You’re just here to atone for your sister’s sins.”

True to his word, William had kept his distance, not bothering to show up in her life for the past five years. But honestly, Eleanor had no desire to confront a man she had never formed any emotional bond with.

As she finished her meal, she felt a sense of relief wash over her. Whatever William was doing with Eliza, it was none of her concern.

With a contented sigh, she settled the bill and headed home, her thoughts drifting back to the silence she found so comforting.

Chapter 2

Eleanor Hawthorne had grown accustomed to the silence of her sprawling home nestled in the Eastbridge suburbs, especially in Whiterose Estates. The ornate black gate swung open gradually, leading to a grand yet lonely European-style mansion that had felt empty for five long years. It was a house bought by William Ellis—the man who had never set foot inside since they signed the papers—leaving Eleanor to navigate its vastness alone.

But today, as she unlocked the door and stepped inside, a murmur of voices caught her attention drifting from the living room.

“Margaret, why are you still here this late?” Margaret was supposed to be William's hired help, ostensibly there to keep the place clean. However, Eleanor had long suspected her presence was also meant to keep an eye on her. Margaret had always been friendly enough, but Eleanor felt that friendship was thin, barely concealing what lay beneath the surface.

Yet instead of hearing Margaret’s familiar voice, Eleanor caught a breathy moan, interspersed with soft gasps that hinted at something decidedly intimate.

Eleanor froze, barely processing the sound before a deep, inviting voice broke the stillness. “You’re back.”

Her breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight of him. William Ellis stood there, tall and commanding, draped in a tailored suit that spoke of money and power. His silver tie hung loose, and a cool air of aloofness wrapped around him like a cloak. That chiseled face, as if carved from stone, struck her with an intensity that made it hard to look away.

It had been five years since they had seen each other, and now, out of nowhere, he was standing in her home with none other than the infamous Eliza Fairchild, the actress whose name had been synonymous with scandal in the tabloids lately.

William’s brow creased slightly, a flash of irritation sparking in his dark eyes. “Eleanor Hawthorne,” he stated, his voice slicing through the air with an edge. “Effective immediately, you’re handling Miss Fairchild’s divorce case.”

Eliza sauntered to her feet, her stiletto heels sinking into the plush white carpet. She exuded both grace and allure, her long legs partially obscured by a flowing cream dress that clung to her waist, embellished with a delicate belt of sparkling gems. She spoke with a melodic timbre, almost dismissive as she appraised Eleanor, her eyes narrowing slightly with a flicker of envy.

“William, who is she?” Eliza asked, her tone sweet but laced with an undercurrent of hostility, revealing that she regarded Eleanor as a potential threat.

Eleanor met Eliza’s glance head-on, noting the brief flash of jealousy that crossed her face. She understood the dynamics at play here. No matter how simple her attire might seem against Eliza’s glamour, she could sense the contempt radiating like heat waves from the starlet.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” William quickly interjected, offering Eliza a reassuring touch to her hair before shifting his focus back to Eleanor. “You need to get this done. Your professionalism is essential here.”

Eleanor felt a flicker of defiance. “I’m not taking this case.”

Her declaration hung in the air like a detonated bomb, sending shockwaves through the room. William's expression morphed into disbelief, dark eyes locking onto hers as though he could not comprehend her audacity.

“What did you just say?” he demanded, his voice low but charged with fury.

The stark glow of the overhead lights cast harsh shadows on his perfect features, turning his alluring presence into something chillingly predatory. Eleanor clenched her jaw, biting back the retort that danced on her lips but feeling convinced that this was not a battle she would lose.

A soft, ironic laugh slipped through her. “Catherine heard me just fine, didn’t she?”

He stiffened at the mention of her late sister, and she could feel the air shift—five years filled with resentment crackling between them like electricity. Part of her reveled in his shock; she didn’t want to be a pawn in his games anymore, certainly not to assist him in clearing up the mess with his latest conquest.

William's stare deepened, a mixture of anger and astonishment flashing across his face. In that moment, the realization hit him: no longer was Eleanor the passive, obedient wife he had once taken for granted.

Eliza stood to the side, wide-eyed; she'd never witnessed anyone dare to speak to William Ellis in such a manner before. In Eastbridge, he was royalty, the son of the esteemed Ellis family whose grip on the commercial empire of the city had earned him legendary status. The notion of standing in the way of his intentions was as reckless as it was sensational.

If this little attorney was bestowed with a death wish, Eliza would love to see how it unfolded. Her intuition told her there was more to this situation than she had first realized—an air of unresolved history crackling between Eleanor and William, simmering just beneath the surface.

And as Eleanor squared her shoulders, lips pressed together in defiance, it became clear that the past had finally returned to claim its stake in the lives of them all.

Chapter 3

Eliza Fairchild's mind swirled with questions as William Ellis calmly instructed his secretary to escort her out. Despite her reluctance, she had no choice but to comply, leaving Hawthorne Manor with an aching heart.

As she exited, she shot a seething glare at Eleanor Hawthorne. If it hadn’t been for that audacious woman, she and William would have been enjoying their much-anticipated romantic evening instead of parting ways under such tense circumstances.

Moments later, the grand house echoed with silence, save for the remaining two occupants: William Ellis and Eleanor Hawthorne.

William cast a sharp glance at Eleanor, leaning back against the plush sofa, his lips tightly sealed, his eyes cold as ice. “Eleanor Hawthorne, you don’t get to say ‘no’ to me. You should remember your place.”

“And what place is that?” Eleanor Hawthorne replied, her gaze darkening with an icy undertone. “If I tell Miss Fairchild about my place, I wonder what she’d think?”

At her words, William's expression darkened even further.

With a cigarette pinched between his fingers, the faint glow of the ember flickered in the otherwise shadowed room. His chiseled features momentarily concealed by the lazy swirl of smoke exuded a breathtaking intensity that felt dangerous in the hushed intimacy.

His long fingers drummed restlessly against the soft, velvet upholstery, a habitual sign of his mounting impatience.

"Eleanor Hawthorne," he warned, voice low and menacing, "you won't be able to handle the consequences of making me angry."

She offered a half-smirk, her heart chilled by the truth of his words. The consequences of his anger were indeed great, ones not just to her, but to the entire Hawthorne family. Otherwise, she would have been living happily with the man she truly loved, not trapped here at the mercy of her husband.

She was tired—tired of it all.

With a determined stride, she crossed to the sofa opposite him, her striking blue eyes fixed on his. “William, let’s make a deal.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by her sudden boldness, but remained silent.

Eleanor pressed on, “If I win my case for Miss Fairchild, we divorce. Mr. Ellis, as a savvy businessman, must realize our marriage is devoid of emotion and offers you no significant profit. You know that better than I do.”

William scrutinized her face for what felt like an eternity, his piercing gaze narrowing.

Without warning, he stood, crushing his cigarette into the ashtray with force. He stepped closer, leaning down so his heated breath brushed against her ear, stirring an involuntary shiver along her spine.

Their faces were mere inches apart; his handsome features were chillingly serene as he whispered, “Eleanor, you’re delusional. For the rest of your life, you’ll atone for your sister’s choices. Blame Catherine Hawthorne for leaving you and the family behind.”

He smirked, his jaw hardening. “Don’t forget, I can make Hawthorne Enterprises teeter on the brink of disaster—and I could finish the job.”

“William Ellis, you’re despicable.”

Eleanor spat back, a spark of fear igniting within her. She hadn’t realized how deeply his obsession ran after five years.

He was a titan in Eastbridge’s business scene, a self-made man dominating the entertainment world, unstoppable in his pursuits.

If William Ellis wanted something done, it would be done—no exceptions.

Eleanor clenched her fists, recalling how this man had burst into her life, shattering her peace and dragging her into his relentless power games.

William chuckled softly, reclining against the sofa, a languid perch that accentuated his striking form. Any woman would fall for him, yet Eleanor understood the lethal danger he embodied—poisonous and inevitable.

He brought Eleanor’s every change in emotion into focus, a shadowed smile lingering at the corners of his mouth, his aristocratic features exuding a chilling elegance. “Tomorrow, all your case materials will be delivered to Silver Oak Agency. Hawthorne attorney, I look forward to seeing what you can do.”

Embarrassment rippled through her chest. At that moment, she felt cornered, stripped of the ability to fight back against his iron grip on the Hawthorne legacy. She couldn’t afford to act recklessly.

Once the heavy door clicked shut behind him, a wave of relief washed over her. She released a long, shaky breath, her fists still clenched tight.

Suddenly remembering something, she grabbed her keys and bolted out the door, racing toward the nearest preschool.

“Lucas!”

The sound of her voice drew a small, cherubic boy with bright eyes and round cheeks. He let out a gleeful shriek, charging toward her, crashing into her embrace. “Mommy!” he squealed, nuzzling against her, desperate for the warmth of her affection.

Chapter 4

Eleanor Hawthorne ran her fingers affectionately through her son Lucas’s hair, her heart finally lightening as she gazed at his blissful presence. Lucas was safe, and for the moment, that comforted her.

It seemed that William Ellis had no idea Lucas existed.

But she couldn't help wondering how long she could keep that under wraps. As William was back in town, it was the perfect opportunity to wrap up their marriage once and for all and take Lucas away from this city for good.

“Lucas, darling,” she said softly, “Mommy’s going to be a bit busy for a while, but don’t hold it against me, okay?”

Lucas nodded enthusiastically, then, catching Eleanor off guard, pressed a wet kiss onto her right cheek. “I love you the most, Mommy! My friends say you’re the most beautiful mom ever.”

His small face beamed with pride, and Eleanor felt a warmth engulf her. Moments like these filled her heart with pure happiness. Every time she saw her sweet boy who was so sensitive and caring, it fueled her determination.

“Soon, sweetheart, I’ll be able to spend every day with you,” she promised.

Lucas cheered, clapping his hands in delight.

As she watched him, a steely resolve formed within Eleanor. She needed to sever ties with William for good; he would never be a fit father, and she wanted to provide Lucas with a nurturing environment.

That night, her sleep was fitful, haunted by thoughts of the impending confrontation.

The next morning, she arrived at work early, only to find her desk piled high with neatly stacked case files. She flipped through them, unable to suppress a sigh. Just like William—for all his faults, he was nothing if not efficient. In one night, he had compiled all of this information.

For the next few days, she immersed herself in case analysis. A divorce wasn’t some insurmountable mountain, yet it could quickly turn contentious, especially when it came to asset division and custody over children.

But one thing was non-negotiable: the public had to hear nothing about this divorce.

No wonder William had chosen her as Eliza Fairchild’s attorney. He had leverage that guaranteed her silence, as well as the motivation to secure a favorable outcome.

Eliza’s marriage had remained under wraps primarily because her husband, Kris, worked overseas. On top of that, the management company was likely suppressing any gossip. If the truth leaked, Eliza’s image would hit rock bottom.

“Eleanor!” A bright, cheerful voice interrupted her thoughts. Suddenly, a flash of crimson approached like a whirlwind.

“Amelia!” Eleanor exclaimed, her surprise palpable. Amelia Peregrine, her closest friend, had been a fixture in her life since their college days. They had always shared a special bond.

Though Amelia had a prim-sounding name, her personality was anything but; she was bluntly honest, especially with Eleanor.

“Seriously, Eleanor, have you really been holed up in the office again? If you keep this up, you’re never going to get married,” Amelia chided, poking her finger playfully against Eleanor’s forehead.

Amelia had always been stunning, and Eleanor sometimes wondered why she was still single. Every time Amelia hinted at matchmaking, Eleanor brushed her off, insisting she hadn’t met anyone worthwhile yet. Dating just wasn’t in her plans.

“Tell me the truth, Eleanor. You’re still hung up on Oliver Blackwood, aren’t you?”

At the mention of Oliver, Eleanor’s heart dropped. Her fingers instinctively clenched into fists. She fought to control her emotions, but the memories surged back, impossible to ignore.

“Amelia, come on. We broke up ages ago.”

Amelia’s lips tightened. Five years prior, when she was studying abroad, Eleanor’s breakup with Oliver had shocked her. She had daydreamed of returning home to see her friend’s wedding, only to find out everything had crumbled.

“And now I have Lucas,” Eleanor added sharply, the weight of the words hanging in the air. Lucas was five now, and though his presence brought her joy, his existence came with whispers and judgment. She’d never revealed the identity of Lucas’s father, a taboo she had strictly kept, and Amelia knew better than to pry. Yet Eleanor could see the questions lingering in her friend’s eyes.

If Eleanor was right, the sudden end of her relationship with Oliver was tied to the child she had been forced to raise alone.

“Right. New chapter, new beginnings,” Amelia said lightly, her bright eyes sparkling. “But that doesn’t mean you can stop living. We’re celebrating our six-year reunion, and you have to be there! Our class beauty can’t miss it!”

With that, Amelia continued to nudge Eleanor until she finally gave in. Without changing her clothes or giving herself a second thought, Eleanor stepped out the door, ready to face whatever awaited her.

Chapter 5

Reunion Revelations

The high-rise hotel pulsed with opulence. Crystal chandeliers shimmered under the soft glow, casting dazzling patterns that danced across the lavish décor.

Long-lost classmates reunited, laughter and clinking glasses filled the air, creating an atmosphere thick with nostalgia and warmth.

Eleanor Hawthorne, however, felt her head grow heavy after just a few drinks. The past few sleepless nights weighed on her, amplifying her discomfort.

“Amelia, I need to hit the restroom,” she said, trying to maintain her composure.

Amelia Peregrine watched her friend with a mix of concern and warmth, ready to accompany her, but Eleanor waved her off. “I’ll be fine.”

Eleanor stumbled to the restroom, splashing cold water on her flushed cheeks, but the redness refused to fade. Frustration coursed through her; typically, she prided herself on her self-control. But seeing familiar faces stirred up memories of Oliver Blackwood, the man who once held her heart. It was only natural that she’d overindulged.

On her way back, Eleanor found herself lost in the maze of corridors. The hotel’s interior was a labyrinth, and without her phone, Amelia was nowhere to be found. The alcohol clouded her memory, leaving nothing but a vague recollection of the suite number.

Rounding a corner briskly, she collided with a man.

“Excuse me!” she gasped, stepping back.

But he didn’t let it slide. A bloated face morphed into a scowl, and he eyed her disdainfully. “You think saying sorry is enough? Do you even know who I am?”

Before Eleanor could retort, he gripped her wrist tightly.

Sickened by the oily sheen of his skin and his predatory gaze, Eleanor struggled against his hold, but he was surprisingly strong.

“Let go of me!” she demanded.

He only laughed, a lewd smirk stretching across his face. “Feisty little thing, aren’t you? I like that. You keep me entertained, and I might let you off the hook.”

His hand strayed towards her waist, while the men behind him sneered, enjoying the spectacle.

The sound of a sharp slap echoed through the hallway, stunning everyone into silence.

Eleanor’s hand stung from the impact, but the fellow gasped in shock. “You little bitch! How dare you hit me?”

Eleanor scowled, adrenaline surging as that slap had emptied her remaining strength. The alcohol combined with the effort made her feel lightheaded.

The man—Edward Kingsley—wasn’t ready to let it go. “Grab her! I’ll show you how to handle a woman.”

Before he could act, a tall silhouette stepped in front of Eleanor, effectively shielding her.

“Back off,” he ordered, his voice steady.

Kingsley hesitated before letting arrogance take over. “Who the hell do you think you are? Get out of my way.”

“Leave with your friends now, or—” he leaned closer, whispering low enough for only Kingsley to hear, “the tax evasion numbers from your company will be released tomorrow.”

Kingsley’s bravado faltered, and the mockery vanished from his expression as he exclaimed, “You’re bluffing!”

The stranger nonchalantly rattled off figures that sent Kingsley’s confidence crumbling. Panic replaced his bravado; it was as if the air was sucked from the room. This man knew what he shouldn’t have known.

In seconds, Kingsley’s demeanor shifted completely. “Uh, misunderstanding! We were just messing around!” He turned to his entourage. “Let’s go! Now!”

As they fled, Eleanor’s heart raced. The stranger slowly turned back to her, his eyes piercing yet soft. “Eleanor…”

A tremor ran through her; her heart stopped. That familiar scent of cedar and sandalwood wafted over, memories flooding her senses.

“Oliver?” she whispered, disbelief clouding her voice.

And there he was—Oliver Blackwood, the same man from five years ago, though he looked a touch thinner now. But the elegance that had drawn her to him remained untouched, as did the enigma that had wrapped around her heart.

“Eleanor, don’t go,” he pleaded, a mix of urgency and nostalgia in his tone, grasping her wrist gently. He stepped forward, arms outstretched.

Eleanor felt a whirlwind of emotions. Without thinking, she instinctively stepped back, absorbing the weight in the air.

Oliver’s hand hesitated, suspended between them, and a flicker of pain crossed his face just before he withdrew.

“Thanks for stepping in. I really should get back,” she stammered, her heart pounding, a storm of thoughts churning inside her. She hadn’t prepared for this encounter. Amelia hadn’t mentioned Oliver would be here—he’d been abroad for years. How could he suddenly reappear?

The man she once adored stood before her, his presence still magnetic after all this time.

“Eleanor, please—” Oliver began again, reaching out, but she could barely focus as the weight of that night hung heavy in the air.

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