The CEO’s Unspoken Love (Eleanor and Derek) novel Chapter 151

Chapter 151

Olivia POV

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The early morning light filtered through Eleanor’s cream-colored blinds, casting thin golden ribbons across her bedroom walls. Į slowly opened my eyes, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar ceiling. The sheets felt luxurious against my skin-another reminder of Eleanor’s meticulous attention to comfort, even in her most private spaces.

Turning on my side, I found Eleanor already awake, her gaze fixed on the textured ceiling. My breath caught when I noticed her

swollen eyelids-puffy and red-rimmed, unmistakable evidence of tears shed while I slept soundly beside her. The contrast between

her porcelain skin and those inflamed eyes made my heart constrict.

“Oh my God, Ellie,” I whispered, gently reaching out to touch her puffy eyelids with the pad of my thumb. The skin felt warm, and

tender beneath my touch. “Your eyes…”

She turned to me with a self-deprecating smile that didn’t reach those wounded eyes. “Look like two little dinner rolls, don’t they?”

Her attempt at humor only highlighted her pain. “Cried too hard last night.”

I stroked her face, my fingers tracing the delicate curve of her cheekbone, feeling a familiar surge of protectiveness wash over me.

Eleanor had been my rock through countless breakups and career disappointments, and seeing her reduced to this shell of herself

made fury bubble inside me.

“I hate seeing you like this,” I said, unable to keep the edge from my voice. “All because of that bastard Derek.”

A flash of pain crossed her face-quick but unmistakable-before she quickly masked it with composed resignation. Her fingers

nervously adjusted the satin trim of her pillowcase, a habitual movement I’d noticed whenever Derek’s name was mentioned.

“It’s fine,” she murmured, her voice still raspy from sleep and crying. “Just consider it the aftermath of watching a sad movie before

bed.”

I studied her carefully, noting the dark half-moons beneath her eyes and the slight tremble in her forced smile. Her hair was tangled

against the pillow, nothing like her usual maintained appearance. In that moment, watching morning light illuminate the tracks of

dried tears on her cheeks, I made a decision. This couldn’t continue. Not on my watch.

In the kitchen, Eleanor moved with practiced grace, her silk robe cinched tightly around her waist as she prepared breakfast as if

nothing was wrong. The kitchen gleamed with polished granite countertops and copper cookware hanging above the center island-

another realm where Eleanor found control when her emotional world was chaos. The rich scent of frying bacon filled the air as she

expertly cracked eggs into a ceramic bowl with one hand, a skill I’d never mastered despite my attempts.

I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her methodical movements. Even in distress, there was something

captivating about Eleanor’s elegance, the way she handled even the most mundane tasks with precision.

“You know, you look quite enchanting when you cook,” I said, hoping to coax a genuine smile from her. “Like some domestic goddess

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Chapter 151

from a lifestyle magazine.”

The corner of her mouth lifted slightly as she slid a perfectly plated breakfast onto the antique wooden table-bacon crisp but not

burnt, eggs with perfectly runny yolks, toast golden-brown with a pat of butter melting into it.

‘I hope it’s to your liking, she replied, her voice soft but distant, as though part of her was somewhere else entirely.

I took a bite and couldn’t help my enthusiastic response, the flavors exploding on my tongue. “God, this is delicious!” I exclaimed,

closing my eyes briefly to savor the taste. “Whoever marries you will be the luckiest person alive.”

The words tumbled out before I could stop them, and I immediately regretted my thoughtlessness. An awkward silence fell between

us, heavy and suffocating like a wool blanket in summer. Eleanor’s shoulders tensed visibly, her knuckles whitening around her fork

as she focused intently on her own plate, suddenly fascinated by the pattern of her grandmother’s china.

“So,” I said quickly, desperate to change the subject, my voice unnaturally bright, any special orders at the flower shop today?

Something challenging to distract you?”

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The CEO’s Unspoken Love