Chapter 11 Eleanor's POV
The silence in my room was absolute and it screamed.
I sat on the edge of my narrow bed, the ghost of the pen still heavy in my hand. The boardroom stared back at me in memory—ten eyes burning into my skin, waiting for me to crack. I hadn’t and in not blinking, I’d just signed my death warrant.
You idiot. Stupid, magnificent fool.
I pressed my palms into my closed eyes until stars exploded behind the dark. He’d handed me a loaded gun—with a smile and I’d polished the muzzle before handing it back.
The email. Koskinen.
This wasn’t just knowledge—it was possession. Two years of digging through digital graveyards, mapping Sterling’s empire from the shadows and when he saw what I could do, his eyes didn’t show fear.
They showed hunger.
The cold, appraising gaze of a collector who’s just found a venomous orchid.
A soft knock at my door.
My heart jackhammered against my ribs.
David? Come to erase the loose end?
Or Ollie? His warmth turned to ice the moment he realized I wasn’t the girl he thought I was?
“Come in,” I said. My voice was steady. Thank God. My body wasn’t.
The door opened.
Maria.
Her face was neutral, but her eyes—wary, respectful and afraid.
“Mr. Sterling would like to see you in the gallery.”
Not the study.
The gallery.
A cathedral of power: Rembrandts, Bacon sculptures, brutalist steel echoing old bloodlines. A place to display what you own.
I was being appraised.
“Of course,” I said, rising. My legs felt distant, numb.
“Now?”
“Now.”
I followed her through the hushed, cavernous halls, ancestors’ portraits tracking my every step. The gallery glowed under soft light—paintings breathing, shadows writhing and there he stood, before a massive black canvas slashed with crimson, like a heart ripped open and nailed to the wall.
He didn’t turn. “Leave us, Maria.”
The door clicked shut.
I was locked in with the lion.
“Do you like art, Eleanor?” His voice rumbled through the marble, through my bones.
I clasped my hands, trembling. “I don’t know much about it, sir.”
“A lie,” he murmured.
He turned around.
His eyes—flint in moonlight—saw everything. “You know about crypto-tumblers and finnish shipping magnates. Things a maid shouldn’t dream of.”
He stepped closer. “The question is: what do I do with you?”
Silence.
Only the whisper of his shoes on marble—ticking off my seconds.
“I could have you killed,” he said, casual as ordering wine. “A car accident, a mugging. tragic, but common.” He paused, exhaustion flickering at the edges of his eyes. “Or… I could use you.”
Another step. “Your mind is a weapon and I collect weapons.”
My throat was dust. This was it—the chasm I’d aimed for.
Walk across, or fall.
“What are you proposing, sir?” I whispered.
“A new role. No more aprons. You answer to me alone. Analyze. Strategize. Use that aberrant brilliance… for me.”
Air left my lungs.
Direct access.
This was it—the key to my father’s truth, hidden in Sterling’s own vault.
“A devil’s bargain,” I thought.
The price? My soul, carved away in slices.
“And if I refuse?” I asked—testing his spine.
He smiled coldly“Then option one remains.”
He stepped close, voice dropping to a whisper that slithered over my skin:“Become indispensable Or worthless. There is no third path.”
No choice. Never was.
I bowed my head—the meek maid, my best armor.
“At your service, Mr. Sterling.”
“Good.”
He pulled out a sleek black phone from his jacket pocket.
“Yours. My number only. Answer day or night.”
His fingers brushed mine—cold, electric. “Disappoint me… and the consequences will be absolute.”
I took it.
A leash. A key. A direct line to the devil.
“We have an understanding?”
I met his eyes, letting the steel show through. “Perfectly, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
I walked out, legs shaking, every step a reprieve.
But the phone’s weight in my palm was a brand.
At the base of the grand staircase, Ollie waited.
He saw the phone and the shift in my posture, my gaze, my very gravity.
He’d realized: I wasn’t his Ellie anymore.
I was theirs.
He didn’t speak. Just turned and walked away.
The silence between us was louder than grief.
Triumph tasted like ash.
I’d won the king’s notice.
But I’d lost my last human tether.
The estate, once a puzzle to solve, now felt like a maze—walls lined with eyes, every corridor a stage.
Then, the phone buzzed.
One sharp vibration.
I looked down.
The game was no longer distant.
It was here. Now. In my hands.
I was no longer a pawn watching from the shadows.
I was on the board—queen reborn, playing in hell.
My only hope was that the secrets I needed were buried in his files…
Were not mine.