Page 69 of In A Mood For Mr. Wrong

Cassian smirks. “That, we can all agree on.”

But Eleanor isn’t finished, not even close. She may have lost this round, but a woman like her doesn’t crumble after a single setback. She is too cunning, too methodical, too patient. Every move she makes is calculated, each step designed to lead to an inevitable conclusion that benefits her and only her. If we think she’s going to retreat quietly after this, we’re fools. We all know this is just the beginning. This was only the opening act in a much larger, much deadlier battle. Eleanor has been waiting for years to claimPerfectly Matchedfor herself, and she’s not going to let one strategic blow stop her now. If anything, we haveonly provoked her into fighting even dirtier, into playing even harder. And if I have learned anything about Eleanor, it’s that she does not lose gracefully. A knot tightens in my stomach, an unsettling feeling that we are only bracing for impact, waiting for whatever devastating counterattack she has already set in motion. Because I know she has one. I canfeelit.

I glance at Grayson, searching his face for the weight of that realization, for the worry that should be mirrored in his expression. But what I find is something entirely unexpected: Hope. For the first time in days, maybe weeks, I see it in his eyes, a glimmer of certainty, a steadiness that hasn’t been there since Eleanor started her assault on him. It’s cautious, barely formed, but it’s there. A quiet belief that maybe, just maybe, wecanwin this.

Grayson still has a long way to go. He has wounds that haven’t even begun to heal, battles he hasn’t yet faced within himself, and we are far from finished. This war is still raging. The real fight is still ahead of us. But for the first time, we are no longer just surviving Eleanor’s attacks. We are taking back control, and if there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that Eleanor is finally running out of moves.

48

GRAYSON

By the time I wake the next morning, Eleanor has already launched her next attack. I know something is wrong the second my phone starts vibrating incessantly on my nightstand. The insistent buzzing cuts through the early morning quiet, dragging me out of the one decent sleep I’ve had in days. Margot stirs beside me, her hair a dark tangle against the pillow, her arm draped loosely over my stomach. The warmth of her body is grounding, a reminder of why I’m fighting this battle in the first place. But the moment I see Olivia’s name flashing across my screen, I know the peace of this morning is about to be shattered again.

I sigh, running a hand over my face before picking up. “Tell me this isn’t as bad as I think it is.”

There’s a pause. Then Olivia’s clipped voice comes through the line. “That depends. How bad do you think it is?”

Margot lifts her head slightly, her eyes still heavy with sleep, but she’s already alert, already scanning my expression for answers.

I sit up, bracing myself. “Go ahead.”

Olivia exhales sharply. “Eleanor released an exclusive interview this morning. Atell-all. She’s gone full scorched earth.”

Margot is fully awake now, pushing up on one elbow. “What does she mean bytell-all?”

Olivia doesn’t hesitate. “She’s playing the martyr. Claiming she’sheartbrokenover what’s happened to the company. She’s spinning herself as the savior ofPerfectly Matched, someone who has no choice but to ‘step in’ and ‘restore stability’ before it’s too late.” Her voice sharpens. “And the worst part? She’s takingpersonalshots at you.”

My entire body goes still.

“Personal?” I repeat, my voice deceptively calm.

Olivia hesitates. “She’s implying that youknewthe truth about your father all along. That you deliberately hid it. That the boardshouldn’ttrust you, not just because of your illegitimacy, but because of yourdeception.”

A slow, dangerous heat crawls beneath my skin.

Margot swears under her breath. “That manipulative…” She cuts herself off, jaw tightening.

I clench the phone in my hand. I should have expected this. Eleanor never plays clean, and when she feels backed into a corner, she goes straight for the jugular.

“She also gave anot-so-subtlepush toward your ‘reckless behavior’ over the years,” Olivia continues, her voice laced with irritation. “The headlines are running with it, painting you as someone who’s emotionally volatile, unpredictable. Some of them are digging up old rumors, your reputation before you took over the company, the fights, the media scrutiny, your exes. They’re making it look like you’ve beenspiralingever since this news came out.”

Margot’s eyes snap to mine, worry flashing behind them. “That’s absurd. Grayson hasn’t doneanythingreckless.”

I stay silent.

Margot notices. “Grayson.”

I exhale slowly, pressing the bridge of my nose. “I might have… gotten drunk at a club the night I found out.”

Margot groans. “Oh my God.”

“In my defense, I was processing anidentity crisis.”

She gives me a flat look. “Do I even want to know if there were pictures?”

Olivia sighs. “There were definitely pictures.”

Margot mutters something that sounds suspiciously like a death threat toward Eleanor.

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