Chapter 6 - A Small Kitchen and Big Dreams
Eleanor refused Harrison’s discreet offer of an apartment within his residential holdings. Instead, she rented a modest, sunlit one-bedroom flat on the edge of the historic district. The wooden floorboards creaked underfoot, the radiators hissed on cold evenings, and the kitchen was barely wide enough for two people, but every square inch of it belonged entirely to her.
Her first paycheck arrived two weeks later. It was not a massive corporate windfall, but holding the paper check with her own name printed on the payee line brought tears to her eyes. She paid her rent, bought groceries, and purchased a small set of oil paints and canvases she hadn't touched since before her marriage.
On a rainy Thursday evening, a knock sounded at her door.
Eleanor opened it to find Harrison holding a large yellow umbrella, with Toby bundled in a bright red raincoat holding a potted orchid.
"We were in the neighborhood," Harrison said smoothly, though the slight sheepish tilt of his mouth betrayed him.
"Daddy lied," Toby piped up immediately. "We drove forty minutes across the bridge because he said housewarmings require living plants or the bad luck stays in the corners."
Eleanor couldn't help but laugh, stepping aside to let them in. "Come inside out of the rain, you two."
The contrast between Harrison’s tailored designer coat and her thrifted vintage armchair was striking, yet the billionaire slipped off his wet overcoat and sat down without a trace of condescension. He looked around the cozy room, taking in the framed pencil sketches on the walls and the fresh smell of chamomile tea.
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"You made this feel like a home in two weeks," Harrison observed softly. "That’s a rare gift, Eleanor."
"It feels like peace," she replied honestly, pouring tea into three mismatched ceramic mugs. "And peace is worth more than marble hallways."
