Chapter 6: Eleanor Morrison’s Perfect Party
While Clara lay in a hospital bed, Eleanor Morrison stood in her estate ballroom directing florists.
“No, not those roses,” she said sharply. “The white ones. The red look cheap under evening lights.”
The staff moved quickly around her. No one argued with Eleanor. She had a way of making correction feel like punishment.
Her birthday dinner was scheduled for seven o’clock. The investor, Victor Langford, would arrive at six forty-five. The mayor’s wife had confirmed. Three society reporters were expected to photograph the room before dinner.
Everything was in place except Clara.
Eleanor called Ryan for the fifth time that afternoon.
“Where is she?” she demanded when he answered.
“In the hospital.”
“I know where she is. I asked why she is still there.”
Ryan’s voice lowered. “Because the doctors are being difficult.”
Eleanor moved away from the staff and stood near the tall windows facing the garden. “This family cannot afford another rumor. Last month, she embarrassed us by leaving the charity luncheon early. Two weeks ago, she looked miserable in every photograph. Tonight she will sit beside you and smile.”
“She can barely walk.”
“Then put her in a chair,” Eleanor snapped. “People love a tragic wife if she looks devoted.”
Ryan said nothing.
Eleanor softened her tone, which somehow made it more dangerous. “Listen to me, Ryan. Victor Langford is not investing in restaurants. He is investing in legacy. If he sees instability, he walks. If he walks, the loan deadline becomes our problem.”
That was the truth Clara had not yet fully discovered.
The Morrison empire was not as strong as it looked. Beneath the marble and champagne, debt had spread like rot. Ryan had borrowed, shifted money, and forged confidence where no confidence remained. Clara’s name had become useful because she had inherited a small but valuable property from her mother—property Ryan wanted access to.
Clara had resisted signing it over.
Then she found the documents.
Then she ran.
“Bring her,” Eleanor said. “Before anyone asks questions.”
Ryan’s voice was tight. “And if she talks?”
Eleanor’s silence lasted only a second.
“Then remind her who she is without us.”
Ryan ended the call and looked toward Clara’s hospital room from the hallway.
May you like
He had come to take her to a party.
But more than that, he had come to make sure she never spoke freely again.
