<h4>Chapter 80: Before Midnight</h4>


    Under the soft neon glow of the city streets, Edward’s luxury car glided smoothly through the quiet roads. Inside, he sat in silence, asionally casting a nce at the young woman beside him.


    The shifting colours of billboards and streetlights outside painted a kaleidoscope across Eleanor’s face, casting fleeting patterns over her wless skin. For a moment, Edward found her presence almost surreal... calm, beautiful, distant. She looked like a goddess lost in thought, untouchable under the moonlit mour of the night.


    After a long silence, Edward finally voiced the question that had been weighing on his mind.


    "Miss Raynor... how did you know about Grayson?"


    Eleanor chuckled lightly but didn’t turn to look at him. Her gaze remained fixed on the passing streets outside.


    "Mr. Miller," she said in a calm, almost amused tone, "I’m a cautious person. When twoplete strangers I’ve never seen before suddenlye up to me and start serving me without hesitation... do you think I’d just sit still and enjoy their attention?"


    She paused, then continued, her tone sharpening slightly, "Naturally, I ordered a background check. It didn’t take long to uncover the truth. They came to the banquet specifically for you. Without your help, theirpany is bound to go bankrupt in a matter of days."


    She nced at him briefly before adding, "I assumed you might have known Grayson from before. They figured that by impressing me, they could get to you. And to be honest, they weren’t wrong. You probably would have helped them eventually."


    Edward nodded slowly. That much seemed reasonable.


    Eleanor let out a lightugh and added, "But how could I sit back and allow someone who served me to be rewarded by you? That would be a disgrace to my name. That’s why I stepped in."


    Edward leaned back in his seat, brow furrowed. "Still," he said cautiously, "you didn’t need to go so far as to teach that boy a lesson. I mean... it might just be a lover’s quarrel. You might’ve made things harder for the family."


    Eleanor finally turned her head, meeting his gaze squarely. Her eyes were clear, cold, and unwavering.


    "Mr. Miller, you truly know very little about me. I am neither phnthropic nor impulsive. I don’t act without reason."


    She continued, voice level, "That Baxter boy proposed to Grayson’s daughter. She rejected him. Now, he’s using his family’s power to pressure Grayson’spany, threatening their livelihood... unless the girl agrees to apany him for a few days. That isn’t love. That’s coercion. That’s a scumbag."


    Edward looked troubled, unsure of how to respond.


    Eleanor added calmly, "And yes, you’re right... I didn’t have to go that far. But I chose to. Not for the boy’s sake... but to make an example."


    She turned her gaze back to the window, her voice dropping an octave.


    "Grayson’s family doesn’t know me yet. But after tonight, they will fear me like they fear death itself."


    Edward frowned. "You’re helping them through such a critical time. They should be grateful to you... not afraid."


    "As I said," Eleanor replied smoothly, "you don’t understand me. In the kingdom I rule, the queen doesn’t need love, respect, gratitude, devotion, or adoration."


    She turned back to him, her voice steady and chilling. "I demand only three things... loyalty, obedience, and fear."


    She looked away again and added, "By tomorrow morning, you’ll understand."


    A heavy silence fell inside the car.


    Edward didn’t say another word. There was nothing more to say. The woman sitting beside him wasn’t just clever... she was formidable.


    The car continued in silence until they reached Eleanor’s gated vimunity.


    ***


    Meanwhile, back outside the banquet venue, Grayson and Florence stood in stunned silence. The evening had taken such a surreal turn that neither of them knew what to say.


    Just then, Grayson’s phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking the silence. He fumbled to answer the call, still a little dazed.


    "Hello?" he said.


    "Am I speaking with Mr. Grayson Marsh, Chairman of Failsworth Construction Materials Limited?" a calm, professional voice asked from the other end.


    "Yes, speaking," Grayson replied, trying to remainposed. "May I know who’s calling?"


    "I’m calling from Purplebricks Limited. You are expected at our head office tomorrow morning at 9 a.m. Please give your name at the front desk when you arrive. If you need assistance, you may call this number."


    Grayson blinked, stunned. "May I ask...?"


    "And Mr. Marsh," the voice interrupted. "Don’t forget to thank Miss Raynor."


    Then the line went dead.


    Grayson stared at his phone, dumbfounded.


    Florence, noticing the change in his expression, asked quickly, "What happened? Who was it?"


    Grayson took a moment to find his voice. "That was from Purplebricks... They want me toe in tomorrow morning."


    He let out a stunnedugh. "Miss Raynor really did it. I... I can’t believe she made that call to Purplebricks."


    Florence’s eyes lit up. "Isn’t the CEO of Purplebricks also a Raynor?"


    Grayson nodded, finally snapping out of his daze. "Ethan Raynor. That’s right! Of course, how could I forget that? Wife, you’re brilliant!"


    His voice rose with excitement. "We’re saved. We’re really saved!"


    Florence sped her hands in gratitude, tears brimming in her eyes. "Thank God... Let’s go home and tell the others. They’ll be so relieved."


    Minutester, Grayson started the car and sped toward home. In the passenger seat, Florence was already on the phone with their children, her voice trembling with joy as she shared the good news.


    ***


    In a private vi on the other side of the city, James Clifford had returned home unusually early. He’d asked the maid to bring him something to drink.


    She returned shortly after and informed him there was only beer in the house.


    He considered sending someone out for whiskey or something stronger, but in the end, he waved the idea off. "Beer will do," he muttered.


    When she started to serve him, he stopped her. The young woman was his favourite maid... intelligent, beautiful, with a well-proportioned figure. He had slept with her many times in the past.


    But tonight... tonight she disgusted him.


    Compared to the dignified, radiant Eleanor who had taken over his thoughts, the sight of the maid pouring his drink felt like a cruel joke. It made his skin crawl.


    "That old bastard is probably enjoying Eleanor in his bed right now," James thought bitterly. "And I’m stuck with this lowly woman?"


    His heart twisted with envy and rage.


    He waved the maid away, his voice sharp. "Tell everyone not to disturb me tonight. I want to be alone."


    Now, he sat on the floor of his bedroom in the dim light of a singlemp. A half-empty beer bottle dangled from his hand. More empty bottles were scattered around him.


    He looked like a man unravelling.


    "Eleanor..." he mumbled aloud. "How could you forget everything and still live like a queen?"


    Images of her haunted him... her graceful smile, her effortless charm, the way she carried herself like royalty.


    He cursed and downed more beer.


    No matter what he did, he couldn’t push her out of his mind. One moment he fantasized about her... aching with desire... and the next, he burned with fury as visions of her wrapped in Edward Miller’s arms shed before him.


    Thebination of heartbreak and humiliation was unbearable.


    Eventually, the alcohol caught up with him. With a final groan, James copsed sideways onto the cold floor, unconscious. The room fell silent, save for the asional clink of a rolling bottle.