Eleonore’s POV
I had the distinct impression that I was written off by their father as Gael and Missael led me to ‘the west wing’, and I didn’t need a degree to know that was code for ‘stay away from my boys’.
Maybe I was overthinking it, but it was hard not to when there were a lot of things against me and not much I could offer, especially as a mate.
Despite the harshness of it all, the west wing wasn’t some dungeon-like tower. It was as beautiful as the rest of the mansion, just less… personal. Fewer family portraits and artifacts, and more inane sculptures and scenic photos decorated the place.
It reminded me a bit more of the hotel, my home, and it didn’t set me on edge, but it made everything feel… colder.
“Hey, it’s gonna be alright,” Missael told me, and I managed to give him a small smile, but from the way he continued to look worried, I didn’t do so well at hiding all the emotion underneath it too. Empath powers definitely counted as cheating in this moment.