Chapter 5
Eleanor POV
The morning at Four Seasons Florals was a whirlwind of activity. I'd received a last-minute commission to create centerpieces for the Boston Symphony Orchestra's charity gala—a prestigious event that could bring significant visibility to my shop.
While working on sketches for the gala pieces, the bell above the door chimed constantly as customers streamed in throughout the morning.
A young man nervously selected roses for a first date. An elderly gentleman purchased a weekly bouquet for his wife of fifty years—a tradition he'd maintained faithfully every Thursday. A harried executive rushed in for a last-minute anniversary arrangement, grateful when I assembled something beautiful in minutes.
Between customers, I carefully conditioned the fresh shipment of peonies that had arrived from Holland, their lush petals still tightly furled but promising spectacular blooms. My assistant helped a bride-to-be choose flowers for her winter wedding while I finished a delicate arrangement of orchids for a regular client's home office.
By two o'clock, I realized I hadn't eaten since breakfast. I unwrapped a sandwich with one hand while sorting through email orders with the other. Sunny dozed contentedly in the small bed I'd set up behind the counter, occasionally waking to watch customers with curious eyes.
My phone rang just as I finished approving a wedding proposal for next spring. Catherine Wells' name flashed on the screen, sending a jolt of anxiety through me. My mother-in-law rarely called unless something was wrong—or unless she wanted something.
"Hello, Catherine," I answered, keeping my voice pleasant.
"Eleanor." Her tone was cool, as always. "I need you to come to the house this evening. There's a matter we need to discuss."
No greeting, no pleasantries. Typical Catherine. "I'm quite busy with a commission for the Symphony gala," I explained. "And I have plans with Olivia after closing the shop."
"This won't take long," she replied, in a tone that made it clear she wasn't making a request. "Six o'clock. You'll still have plenty of time for your... social engagements afterward."
The line went dead before I could respond. I stared at the phone, a familiar knot forming in my stomach. Visits to the Wells mansion were never pleasant affairs for me. Despite having lived there from age thirteen until my marriage to Derek, I'd always felt like an intruder in their world. Now that Derek and I had our own apartment, I avoided the mansion whenever possible.
I called Olivia for moral support, but got her voicemail. "Catherine summoned me to the Wells fortress," I said after the beep. "If I don't call you by seven, send a search party. Or better yet, a good lawyer."
The Wells mansion was a monument to old Boston money—a five-story brownstone with immaculate grounds and a view of the Common. As the car service dropped me off at the wrought-iron gates, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever awaited inside.
Catherine received me in the sitting room, perfectly poised in a cream Chanel suit, her silver-streaked hair swept into an elegant chignon. She didn't rise when I entered, merely gestured to the chair across from her.
"You're late," she noted, though my watch showed it was exactly six o'clock.
"I came directly from the shop," I said, sitting down. "What did you want to discuss?"
Catherine studied me for a moment. "Mrs. Hughes called me yesterday."
Of course. I should have known this was coming. "I see."
"She was quite upset," Catherine continued. "After fifteen years of loyal service to our family, she was dismissed without warning or explanation."
I met my mother-in-law's gaze steadily. "I had my reasons."
"Which were?"
I hesitated, memories flooding back. One month ago, I'd overheard Mrs. Hughes on the phone with a friend, unaware I was in the apartment. "Derek's in London chasing other girls," she'd said. "Poor Eleanor, married for convenience and too naive to see it. Everyone knows he was forced to marry her as some kind of family obligation. The whole thing's a farce."
The words had cut deep, not because they were untrue, but because they were painful truths I'd been trying to ignore. What hurt most was knowing that our staff—people I lived with and trusted—viewed me with such pity and disdain.
"I overheard her discussing my marriage in inappropriate terms," I told Catherine, keeping my explanation vague. "She crossed a line."
Catherine's nails tapped against the armrest. "Household staff gossip, Eleanor. It's what they do. A woman of your position should be above such petty concerns."
A woman of my position. The words stung. Even after all these years, Catherine still saw me as the charity case—the orphaned girl her family had graciously taken in, never quite one of them.
"A woman in my position deserves basic respect in her own home," I countered quietly.
Catherine's eyes narrowed slightly. "This is about more than Mrs. Hughes, isn't it? Derek mentioned you've become... assertive during his absence."
I almost laughed. Derek and I had barely exchanged a dozen sentences since his return, yet he'd found time to complain about me to his mother. "Perhaps I've simply grown tired of being treated as an afterthought in my own marriage."
"The terms of your arrangement with Derek were always clear," Catherine said, her voice hardening. "Three years. That was the agreement when you accepted his proposal."
"I'm well aware of the terms," I replied, fighting to keep my voice steady. The reminder that our marriage had an expiration date—that it had been a business transaction rather than a union of love—never failed to hurt.
Catherine leaned forward slightly. "Have you already discussed divorce with Derek? Is that why he seems distracted?"
The directness of her question caught me off guard. The eagerness in her tone was unmistakable—she wanted this marriage over as much as Derek did.
"No," I said, my voice barely audible. "We haven't discussed it yet."
"I see." Catherine sat back, disappointment flashing briefly across her features before her composed mask returned. "Well, the three-year mark approaches. I assume you'll be honoring the agreement."
It wasn't a question. It was a reminder—a warning, perhaps—that I was expected to walk away quietly when the time came. The prenuptial agreement ensured I'd be financially comfortable, but not wealthy by Wells standards. I would return to being what I'd always been in their eyes: an outsider who had temporarily occupied space in their world.
"Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?" I asked, rising from my seat. I couldn't bear to sit across from her for another minute, watching her plan my exit from her son's life.
Catherine studied me for a long moment. "You've changed, Eleanor. London seems to have had quite an effect on Derek—and on you, despite the distance between you."
I didn't bother correcting her assumption that I'd been to London. Let her believe what she wanted. "People change, Catherine. Even those of us who weren't born into privilege."
As I gathered my purse and turned to leave, the sitting room door opened. Derek walked in with his father, Jonathan, both dressed in impeccable suits from what appeared to be a business meeting. Their sudden appearance stopped me in my tracks.
Derek's eyes met mine briefly before sliding away, his expression unreadable. Jonathan, however, offered a polite smile that never quite reached his eyes.
"Eleanor," he said, sounding genuinely surprised. "I didn't know you were visiting. Where are you off to in such a hurry?"
The casual question hung in the air as I felt Catherine's gaze on my back and Derek's studied indifference before me—three Wells family members boxing me in with their collective presence.