Gilded Desires

Chapter 6: Fortune Inn - Not Worth It

A few days later at night, Clara Hayes woke up starving and crept downstairs to the kitchen to make instant noodles. Just as the water began to boil, she heard footsteps outside. Through the glass pane, she saw Elliot Vance approaching.

As Fortune Inn’s manager, Clara knew guests were essentially walking wallets—and she never held grudges against money. She flashed a bright smile. "Mr. Vance, couldn’t sleep either?"

Making midnight snacks for guests was technically part of her job.

Mrs. Wilkins had gone home after dinner, and Abe, the driver, only handled guest transportation. Winter was Willowbrook’s off-season, so the inn didn’t hire extra staff beyond the part-time cleaners. Most hours, Clara was the only one around.

When Elliot nodded, she turned off the stove. "Let me grab the late-night menu for you."

"No need." He gestured to her pot. "I’ll have what you’re having."

"This is instant ramen."

"I’ve been living off it since the bankruptcy."

Clara laughed. "You’re hilarious."

Even a starving lion was still a lion. A man like Elliot, who’d once ruled Federal Cross’s business circles, could rebuild his empire overnight if he wanted. The guy had gotten 100K wired with one w******p call—there was no way he’d actually been surviving on cheap noodles.

"Leave out the spice packet," Elliot added. "I can’t handle heat."

"Then I’ll add an egg." She set the seasoning aside and pulled an egg from the fridge.

Seeing the noodles were ready, Elliot stepped forward. "I’ll handle it." He portioned them into a bowl and nudged it toward her. "Eat first."

"I should be serving you." She reached for the pot—only for Elliot to dump it into the sink and start rinsing it himself.

Watching his practiced movements, Clara raised an eyebrow. "I pegged you as the type who’d never lifted a finger in his life."

"Even bankrupt tycoons learn to adapt."

"You’re taking this suspiciously well." She retreated to the small corner table. "Most rich guys would be wallowing, not cracking jokes."

"Never met one? Or never written one?"

Wait. He knew she wrote?

"Sid at the The Rusty Anchor mentioned you’re an novel writer." Elliot refilled the pot and set it back on the stove. "Came to Willowbrook to hide from your ex?"

"So that’s where you heard it." Clara vaguely remembered a drunken game of Truth or Dare at the bar months ago, where she’d offhandedly told Sid she’d moved to escape an obsessive ex. "And you believed him?"

"Not at first." Elliot dropped a new noodle block into the water.

Clara shrugged. At this point, she’d already embarrassed herself in front of Elliot enough times. "He’s getting married next month."

Her voice held no grief—just quiet acceptance. Maybe it was the five years of distance, or maybe hearing Lena confirm Daniel Shaw’s Christmas wedding had finally given her closure. Strangely, she felt no bitterness. Only relief that he’d moved on.

Those three secret years with Daniel had been the happiest of her 27-year life.

Nineteen to twenty-two—back when she still believed in love—he’d been the balm to her bruised heart.

Their breakup had been painless, no screaming matches or mudslinging. She’d known from the start it would never last.

Silence settled as they ate. Clara kept her eyes down, pushing noodles around until Elliot—who finished first—spoke again.

His gaze lingered on the black brace peeking from her sleeve. "You sleep in that thing?"

Then, remembering Sid’s gossip about her "five-year heartbreak"...

"Don’t hurt yourself over a man again." Elliot stood, carrying his bowl to the sink. "Not worth it."

Clara froze. He thought she’d cut herself? That the brace hid scars from some desperate plea for Daniel to stay? Even Lena had assumed that at first.

"I didn’t—!" His skeptical look made her slam her chopsticks down. "I would never self-harm over a guy! I love myself, thanks!"

"Good."

"Ugh, whatever." She wasn’t about to trauma-dump on a near-stranger. "Believe what you want. But no man—not even Daniel Shaw—is worth that."

The name slipped out before she could stop it.

Her eyes flew to Elliot’s face, bracing for his reaction.