Eleanor sat anxiously in the waiting room of Heaton Mersey Independent School. Although the headmistress, Stella Rimington, had reassured her that there was nothing to worry about, she couldn't help but feel uneasy. It was just an assessment to determine Freya's classroom placement, yet she found herself glancing at her wristwatch repeatedly, counting down the fifteen minutes as if they stretched into an eternity.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, Freya appeared in the waiting room, accompanied by a teacher. She looked perfectly fine as she walked straight into her mother's embrace.
The teacher smiled warmly. "Although she surpassed the level of a third-grade student during the assessment, considering her age, we've decided to enroll her in first grade. The children in that class will be around six to seven years old. Otherwise, she might feel lonely among older classmates."
Ethan stood up and extended his hand. "Thank you, Miss. What should we do next?"
The teacher replied, "We've already informed the admissions office, which is right beside the main entrance. If you head there now, they will guide you through the next steps."
After expressing their gratitude, the trio made their way to the admissions office. By the time they finished all the paperwork and emerged from the school, it was already close to noon.
Ethan turned to Eleanor. "Grandma is in town. If you don't have any urgent matters to attend to, let's have lunch at her villa."
Eleanor hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Okay."
Freya clapped her hands excitedly. "Yay! I want to see Great-Grandma!"
Ethan chuckled. "Alright then, let's go."
He helped them into the car and drove towards the outskirts of the city, where Fiona Raynor's villa stood amidst lush greenery.
***
As soon as they arrived, Fiona opened the door, her eyes lighting up as she saw her great-granddaughter. "My dear Freya! Did you miss your old great-grandma?"
Freya threw herself into Fiona's arms. "I missed you one million—no, one trillion!"
Fiona laughed heartily. "Well then, let's go inside. I'll make your favorite chicken noodle soup."
Freya beamed. "I love Great-Grandma's chicken noodle soup! Mommy can't make it as delicious as you do."
Eleanor playfully frowned. "Hey! Don't badmouth me. I cook plenty of delicious dishes for you."
Freya pouted. "But Great-Grandma is the best."
Fiona smirked. "Eleanor, just accept your defeat. I am the best!"
Everyone laughed as they entered the villa. While Fiona went into the kitchen to prepare lunch, Eleanor followed her, leaving Freya in Ethan's care.
As Freya busied herself watching cartoons, Ethan's phone buzzed. Recognizing the number, he stepped outside, making sure Eleanor wouldn't overhear him—even with her enhanced werewolf hearing.
"Mr. Raynor," came a hushed voice from the other end. "The Whitmore family is on the move. One of my colleagues has started investigating Miss Eleanor again, unofficially. They're currently trying to track her movements using yesterday's CCTV footage from Piccadilly."
Ethan's expression darkened. "Understood. I'll take care of it. Keep me updated."
He ended the call and immediately dialed another number. "I'll send you a bug. Make sure it gets planted in William Whitmore's phone. Just insert it into his charging port. It won't interfere with the phone's function, but it'll give us access to all his communications."
After issuing the instructions, he made a third call. "The time has come. Present that investment opportunity to Jennifer Whitmore. Make sure she invests every penny of their cash reserves. If you can push them to mortgage their properties for a bigger investment, there's an additional reward in it for you."
***
Meanwhile, across the city, James Clifford sat in his private villa, rocking in his chair while smoking a cigarette. He contemplated his next move.
"Eleanor must resent me after our breakup," he mused, exhaling a plume of smoke. "But I played my part well. I ended things after she got pregnant… it was the logical thing to do. There's no way she could know about my involvement in her kidnapping and assault."
His fingers tightened around the cigarette as he recalled those events. Even now, he shivered when thinking about Jennifer's ruthlessness. It had been her idea of rape and inject Eleanor with a high dose of Clomiphene before the assault, increasing the chances of pregnancy.
Although he had some issues with Eleanor, that stubborn girl never gave him a chance beyond a few kisses. Many times, he wanted to sleep with her, but she was old-fashioned and insisted that it should be saved for marriage. Every time, he had to release his frustration on Jennifer. It was a pity that her first time had been stolen by those thugs.
At first, he wasn't involved with Jennifer. Jeanne, his mother's cousin, was technically his aunt. One day, she approached him with a proposal that could benefit them both. She suggested that James pursue a romantic relationship with Eleanor, the primary heir to her family's business. Since James was the fourth son of the Clifford family, his chances of inheriting their business were slim due to his three older brothers. Considering this, he agreed.
But none of this would have happened if it weren't for Eleanor. It began on her birthday, years ago, when they were still teenagers. Eleanor's bosom had just begun to bloom, soft curves visible beneath the fabric of her dress… a detail he couldn't unsee. Later that night, after the party guests had left, he slipped into her room. They kissed as they often did, but this time, his hands drifted lower, eager to explore what her new silhouette promised. Eleanor stiffened. She shoved him away, her voice sharp as shattered glass. "Not before marriage," she hissed. "Never."
And just like that, she'd drawn a line in the sand… one he'd spent years resenting.
Frustration seethed in James' chest as he stormed out of Eleanor's room. The hallway air felt cold, sharp against his heated skin… until Jennifer appeared. Her voice was a balm, soft and coaxing, her touch steadying his restless hands. He didn't remember agreeing to follow her, yet suddenly they were in her room, the door clicking shut behind them. Words dissolved. Then her lips were on his, a spark to tinder, and every thread of restraint unraveled.
It was clumsy, their first time… a fumbling exploration guided by half-remembered scenes from films they'd watched in secret. Awkward laughter mingled with gasped breaths as they navigated unfamiliar terrain. No theory could have prepared them for the reality: the trembling, the missed rhythms, the way urgency clashed with hesitation. Yet in that haze of curiosity and rebellion, they pressed on, chasing a fleeting escape from the anger that had started it all.
After the defloration, Jennifer took the lead and rode on top. They both were young, and she was wild. James had sex with many girls after that, but no one was as active as Jennifer. That night, they tried side by side, sixty-nine, from behind, seated and many other positions. Due to Jennifer's encouragements they also did anal that night. Although he had some reservations about this particular way of sex, after the penetration and several thrusts, he enjoyed it more. Now, sometimes he goes to Brazil only to have anal sex. In his view, there was no ass like a Brazilian in the whole world.
That night, he lost count of how many times he erected inside and outside of her holes. There were many times, Jennifer took the lead to eat his sperm. Due to the excited states of their minds, they lost track of time. I was when the daylight came in from the window, they felt that they were dead tired after a long nightly activity. James had no energy to go to his home. So, he went to the guest room to sleep as he had stayed there before.
What they didn't know was that due to their inexperience, Jennifer's moan was so loud that it was heard from outside the room. When Jeanne came to check on Jennifer before sleep, she heard it. They also didn't turn off the light or lock the door. Jeanne slightly opened the door to check. When she saw her daughter with James, she locked the door and went to her room silently.
Instead of being furious, she saw an opportunity. The next day, she called them into Jennifer's room, and their plans took a darker turn. Jeanne convinced them that Eleanor needed to be removed from the equation. From that moment on, there was no turning back.
James snapped back to the present, stubbing out his cigarette. He pulled out his phone and dialed an overseas number.
"Eleanor Whitmore is alive. She's in Manchester," he said flatly. "I want her eliminated as soon as possible."