Chapter 147 Eloise’s Story
“Honey, do you really know who Leo is?”
Caroline’s question dropped out of the blue like that, completely
sideswiping Alistair.
Okay, if I’m not mistaken, he’s her actual cousin, right?
But Alistair knew Caroline well enough to know she wouldn’t ask
something so blindingly obvious.
And he already knew about the musical genius, the mega–star
status.
What else is there?
Caroline’s mood seemed to dip. “I never told you Eloise’s story, did I? Her background?”
It hit Alistair like a jolt of electricity, a shiver running straight through him. “He’s…”
Caroline just nodded with a quiet Mm–hmm.
Alistair fell silent.
Back before he and Caroline had really connected, before they
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were on the same wavelength, he’d occasionally let his mind wander, wondering who Eloise’s biological father might be.
Later, when he found out Caroline had adopted Eloise, his
curiosity about her origins was piqued.
Caroline had told him bits and pieces. Her own mother had died in childbirth, and her father was a world–class scumbag.
But never in a million years would he have guessed that Eloise’s biological father was a household name, a celebrity practically everyone on the planet knew…
Eloise’s birth mother had been a huge fan of Leo’s, not much older
than Caroline herself.
Right before she went into labor, she’d somehow managed to track down Caroline’s email address. Maybe she’d had some kind of premonition, a feeling that she wasn’t going to make it because she’d sent Caroline an email, a desperate plea for Leo to come
and see her one last time.
She’d promised she would never, ever bother him again.
Over a year later, Caroline finally logged into that old email account and stumbled across the message. She’d been stunned. After a ton of digging and dead ends, she finally found Eloise, a tiny, underweight, sickly little girl.
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The very first moment she laid eyes on Eloise, Caroline knew she
had to adopt her.
Alistair’s heart clenched, a wave of pain washing over him for
Eloise, losing her mother the moment she was born, then being. passed around, treated like nothing more than a burden.
Thank God she’d found Caroline.
Hearing the full story of his precious little girl’s beginnings, Alistair
felt a fresh wave of fear, a retroactive chill.
What if Caroline had just blown off that email and dismissed it as
some crazy fan thing? Where would Eloise be right now? What would have happened to her?
Her birth mother had been a smart girl, a college student who’d
managed to escape her small, remote hometown.
But having a baby out of wedlock? In their family, in their town, that was the ultimate disgrace, a massive scandal.
After she died, Eloise was just given away.
Maybe, for a little while, her adoptive parents had genuinely tried. Maybe they’d even loved her as their own. But it didn’t last. Not long after they took Eloise in, the adoptive mother, who’d
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struggled for years with infertility, miraculously got pregnant with her own biological child.
Once Eloise’s adoptive parents had their own flesh and blood, they completely lost interest in raising Eloise. They just dumped
her with an elderly relative, basically forgetting she existed.
Caroline had searched tirelessly for days, following faint trails and rumors, until she finally found Eloise abandoned in a literal dirt pit,
her cries so weak they were barely audible….
Even though Caroline told the story in a low, matter–of–fact voice, just imagining that scene made Alistair’s chest ache with pain so
sharp it almost took his breath away.
He suddenly missed Eloise.
I just want to kiss her little face, hug her tight, swing her up high in
the air, and hear her giggle.
He’d always prided himself on being a good father, a doting father. He truly loved Eloise and had given her every ounce of
paternal affection he possessed, holding nothing back.
But now, hearing this? It feels like it isn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
He’d dropped Eloise off at Mabel’s earlier that day. Mabel adored
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telling her stories while they took the dog for a walk. Yesterday’s story had been a long one, and they hadn’t quite finished it. So, they had made a solemn pact to continue the adventure today.
A question suddenly popped into Alistair’s head. “Does Leo even know? Does he have any idea he has a daughter?”
Caroline let out a short, sharp scoff. “That deadbeat dad? The kind who loves them and leaves them? He doesn’t deserve to be
Eloise’s father.”
My wife. Always with a spot–on moral compass.
Alistair gently reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Is that why you and your cousin don’t get along?”
Caroline shook her head slightly. “Not entirely. I can’t stand his
mother.”
It took Alistair a beat to connect the dots. Leo’s mother was
Caroline’s aunt.
To this day, Alistair hadn’t met a single one of Caroline’s direct
relatives, except for Mabel.
Mabel’s roots were in New York, so she’d chosen to retire there.
She was the main reason Caroline had decided to stay in New
York herself.
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Caroline’s father and her aunt both lived down in Atlanta. From
what Alistair could gather, their relationship with Caroline was
incredibly frosty, practically non–existent. He’d certainly never
seen or heard them make any contact with each other.
In Caroline’s own words, they were all just irrelevant outsiders.
Even her own father and her aunt, people who should have been family, were just irrelevant outsiders to her.
Alistair’s first reaction wasn’t to judge her for being cold or
unfeeling. His first, overwhelming instinct was a pang of deep,
profound sympathy.
So why is she so close to her grandmother but completely cuts off her father and aunt? What happened there?
There has to be some serious, ugly backstory.
Bottom line. My wife must have gone through a hell of a lot of crap
growing up.
Alistair thought about his own relatively ordinary upbringing. His mother had died young, his father had remarried, and even that had brought its own share of challenges and difficulties most people couldn’t even imagine.
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Drama in a super–rich, powerful family? That has to be a whole other level of toxic and messy.
“Aaaah!!”
Eight o’clock at night, in a park nestled near some upscale
condos, a sudden, bloodcurdling scream ripped through the otherwise peaceful evening air.
“What the hell was that?”
“Sounded like someone took a nasty fall.”
“Holy crap! No way! The one who wiped out… Is that Freya?”
So that’s Freya?
Alistair stared, completely dumbfounded, at the woman currently sprawled out, limbs akimbo, in the middle of the park fountain.
Maybe she was super famous. And yeah, maybe her legendary rain dance was a thing of beauty. But none of that could save her from looking utterly ridiculous right now, flailing around ungracefully in the shallow fountain pool.
Worried that Freya’s frantic splashing was going to soak his wife,
Chapter 147 Eloise’s Story
Alistair instinctively pulled Caroline into his arms and took a
couple of quick steps back.
“Help me! Somebody help!”
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Freya shrieked, then seemed to realize the water only came up to
her knees…
She stumbled out of the fountain, dripping and disheveled, pointed an accusing finger straight at Alistair and Caroline, and immediately launched into a tirade. “You think you can just shovel me into a fountain and then walk away like nothing happened? This is attempted murder, you know! I’m calling the police!”
Alistair just sighed, a wave of weary disbelief washing over him.
He and Caroline exchanged a look.
Is she freaking serious right now? She clearly wasn’t watching where she was going and took a header all by herself. We were a good six feet away when she went down!
Noticing the crowd that was starting to gather, Freya dramatically covered her face and started sobbing pitifully. “I know, as a public figure, some people aren’t going to like me, and that’s just normal. But what did I possibly do to deserve this? Don’t I even have the right to take a simple walk in the park like a normal person anymore?”
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Freya’s entire public image was carefully crafted around being sweet, innocent, naive, and kind–hearted. Not long ago, she’d launched some big Save the Stray Animals charity initiative, and her popularity had skyrocketed. Her adoring fans affectionately. called her their Most Beautiful Angel.
So, with that deeply ingrained, universally beloved persona, combined with her current soaked, pathetic appearance and her tear–choked, aggrieved voice, it was a no–brainer. Of course, everyone just automatically believed whatever she said. No.
questions asked.
The clueless onlookers immediately turned their collective gaze on Alistair and Caroline. One particularly indignant man yelled, “You anti–fans are absolutely disgusting! You’re nothing but a bunch of jealous, hateful trolls, can’t stand to see anyone else
succeed!”
“This is attempted murder, plain and simple! Someone call the
cops! People like them should be locked up and the key thrown.
away! Freya, don’t you worry. When the police get here, we’ll all be eyewitnesses. We’ll make damn sure you get justice!”
Freya sniffled gratefully, her voice thick with emotion. “Oh, thank you all. Thank you so much. Having you all here… It’s the greatest honor of my life.”
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“It’s the least we can do! Oh my god, look at you, your clothes are absolutely soaked, you must be freezing! Here, take my jacket. Hurry up and put it on before you catch your death of cold.”
Some people were frantically dialing 911. Others were fussing over the famous starlet, cooing words of comfort and concern. A few of the more aggressive ones formed a loose circle around Alistair and Caroline, clearly determined to make sure they couldn’t make
a run for it.
But they didn’t seem fazed at all.
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