Hovering over her, he asked, "If you're not jealous, then why are you angry?"
"Who's angry? Don't flatter yourself, Charles. Let go of me!" Eleanor struggled beneath him, her face flushed and her eyes blazing with fury. But to Charles, she didn't seem like she was trying to escape—she seemed like she was drawing him in.
What he saw in her eyes was no longer the disgust or desperation he once knew. There was no hint of that old revulsion—no more threats of "touch me and I'll die right here."
Charles's Adam's apple bobbed, his ears reddening slightly. Without warning, he lowered his head and kissed the corner of her eye.
The warmth of his lips, laced with a familiar assertiveness, sent a shiver through Eleanor. She trembled in his arms, a soft gasp escaping her lips.
The sound seemed to provoke something in Charles. His kisses continued—from her lashes to the bridge of her nose, finally landing on her lips.
His kiss was deep and forceful, draining Eleanor's strength, leaving her flushed from head to toe.
"I won't make the same mistake again," Charles whispered in her ear. "There won't be a next time. I'll never doubt you again."
What?
Eleanor blinked, dazed. She hadn't quite caught what he said. She stared at him, bewildered.
Charles kissed her misty eyes again and leaned in further…
Since she had already begun to change, he figured it was time for him to trust her too.
---
Meanwhile, Edward Brooks received a call from the British entrepreneur, informing him that the company had decided, after careful consideration, to decline the investment and hoped for future cooperation.
"What? Everything was agreed upon before. Why the sudden change?" Edward asked, stunned. "Can you at least tell me the reason?"
The caller, clearly prepared for this reaction, responded flatly, "Mr. Charles Harrison gave the order. He said this is punishment for not recognizing your position."
"Him…"
Edward was speechless. He never expected Charles to actually follow through with such a move. Before he could respond, the caller hung up.
Staring at the now silent phone, Edward's face darkened. "Damn it!"
"Dad, what's wrong?" Emily descended the stairs, sensing something was off.
Edward didn't respond right away. Instead, he frantically tried to call Eleanor, dialing her number over and over. The cooperation with British entrepreneur was crucial—without it, the company's operations for the second half of the year were in jeopardy.
"I'm sorry, the number you have dialed is not available…"
After five or six failed attempts, Eleanor still hadn't picked up. Frustration boiled over, and Edward hurled his phone against the wall.
The device shattered on impact.
Emily rushed to his side. "Dad, calm down! What happened?"
"Charles Harrison canceled the deal with British God today… because of Eleanor!" Edward seethed.
"What?" Emily's voice rose in disbelief. "Charles actually did that—for Eleanor? That's insane!"
She stared at her father in shock.
Emily's heart dropped like a stone, her anger twisting inside her like a coiled serpent. She clenched her fists, seething with a quiet fury that made her wish she could tear Eleanor apart.
Everything was ruined.
According to the original plan, once British Entreprenuer invested in the company, they would fully back her entry into the entertainment industry. But now, even if she managed to break in, her presence would barely make a ripple.
Eleanor Brooks... just wait and see!
---
Eleanor dreamed she was sinking into a soft pile of cotton, completely smothered—unable to move or breathe. She struggled in panic, trying to lift her head, but it felt impossibly heavy. Just as she was about to lose consciousness, she jolted awake—only to find a pair of wide, round eyes staring back at her.
"Good morning, Mom!" said a cheerful little voice.
Eleanor realized it was her daughter, Cathy, who had disturbed her sleep.
"Good morning. But please move over—I can't breathe," she said groggily.
Cathy giggled and obediently sat up. "Let's go eat breakfast!"
Eleanor rose lazily and shuffled toward the bathroom to freshen up, with Cathy trailing behind her like a little tail.
When Eleanor came downstairs with Cathy, she was pleased to see that Charles was still at home. She walked over with a warm smile and greeted him.
"Good morning, dear!"
Charles was reading a stack of documents. He paused briefly, then gave a noncommittal, "Hmm."
Still, Eleanor was satisfied—even a syllable from him meant acknowledgment. She picked up a bowl of porridge and gently placed it in front of him, offering to feed him herself.
"By the way," she said casually, "I want to start looking for a job. Preferably as a screenwriter."
In her past life, she'd wasted her energy fighting Charles and chasing after Thomas, completely losing sight of who she was. Now that life had given her a second chance, Eleanor didn't want to waste the creative gifts she inherited from her mother—especially her talent in painting and writing. She also happened to know which genres and themes were about to become popular in the coming years. This time, she intended to make something of herself.
"Great! Then you can let me read everything first!" Cathy chirped excitedly, raising her hand.
Charles remained silent for a moment, and Eleanor thought he might disapprove. She quickly added, "I don't mean anything by it—I just want something to do. I don't want to sit around the house all day."
"Okay," Charles finally said with a nod. "I can arrange a position for you. There's a film and television company under my Friend name I will make him contact you soon."
As soon as the words left his mouth, he hesitated. Would she think he was trying to control her?
Before the doubt could take root, Eleanor's face lit up.
"That's perfect! I was actually planning to submit my script to Hitzs Company. If you're offering to arrange something, that's even better."
Eleanor had already been considering them as her first choice.
"And since the owner of Hitzs is your friend," she added, "it's not like I'd be letting the fat water flow into someone else's field."
Charles's expression visibly softened, and for the first time that morning, a faint smile touched his lips. "Hmm. That's good."
---
After breakfast, Charles headed to work. Along the way, the employees noticed something strange—his usually cold demeanor was unexpectedly gentle, making everyone wonder what had brightened his mood.
Meanwhile, Eleanor stayed home with Cathy, brainstorming ideas for her screenplay so she could submit a draft to Hitzs soon.
"Mom, are you working?" Cathy asked, propping her chin on her hands curiously.
"Yes. Want to sit with me and read a book while I work?" Eleanor said, brushing a hand through her daughter's hair.