Chapter 17

Eleanor didn't seem surprised to see him. She didn't even turn her head, only swirling the champagne in her glass as she spoke in a calm, detached voice laced with polite distance. "Mr. Grant, it's been a while. Whoever I spend time with doesn't seem like something I owe you an explanation for." That single "Mr. Grant", with its cool indifference, struck Alexander like an ice shard driven straight into his chest. He stepped closer, close enough to catch the faint chill of her perfume, his tone growing sharp and impatient. "Eleanor, it's been three years. Have you lost your sense of judgment? Don't you know what kind of man Luke is? He's never short of women. He's a spoiled, reckless playboy. What could he possibly give you?" At that, Eleanor finally turned to face him. Under the moonlight, her beautiful eyes lifted slightly, filled not with anger or hurt but with something that looked almost like pitying mockery. Her voice was calm, and her words came out crisp and deliberate. "M