Mistletoe Miracle

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Madam Eleanor retreated inside, the heavy doors closing behind her as she finished speaking her piece to Leo. She wasn’t a woman easily fooled. The timeline simply didn’t add up—for a man as guarded as Evan to meet someone, court them, and find the vulnerability to introduce them to the family was a process of months, if not years. To debut a mystery woman at a high-stakes formal gala on such short notice screamed of a calculated performance.

She knew exactly what was fueling his desperation. Her ultimatum had been clear: Evan would not see a dime of his inheritance, nor would he occupy the CEO’s chair upon her retirement, until he was a married man. It was a test of stability he was clearly trying to bypass.

The moment he had introduced Serenity that evening, Eleanor’s instincts had flared. She had quietly dispatched her team to dig into the girl’s past before the first course was even served. What they had uncovered wasn’t just a simple deception; it was interesting and sad.

Madam Eleanor retreated to a quiet alcove, watching from the shadows as the gala hummed with artificial laughter and the clinking of crystal. To the casual observer, it was a celebration; to her, it was a feeding frenzy. Every guest in the hall had arrived with a singular motive: to curry favor with Evan in hopes of securing a seat at the table for his next major deal.

They looked past his flaws because his results were undeniable. While the tabloids often painted him as aloof, emotionally stunted, and a glorified playboy, those in the boardroom knew better. Evan may have lacked the grace for human connection, but when it came to the cold, predatory world of business acquisitions, his instincts were razor-sharp. He didn't need to be liked to be feared, and Eleanor knew that was exactly how he preferred it. So, how did a simpleton like Serenity Chase gain his favor in such a way that even a paid actress wouldn’t be able to perfect?

When Eleanor received the digital file on Serenity earlier that evening, Eleanor was surprised to learn that Serenity was the simpleton of simpletons.

CONFIDENTIAL INVESTIGATIVE REPORT

SUBJECT: Serenity Chase

FILE STATUS: Active / High Priority

I. Personal Profile

Full Name: Serenity Chase

Age: 23

Current Residency: [Redacted], Lower East District

Family Status: Only Child

Socioeconomic Background: Lower-Middle Class

II. Lineage & History

Father: Calloway Chase. Career history primarily in manual labor/trades.

Mother: Noelani Kelly. DECEASED. * Cause of Death: Cervical Cancer.

Date of Passing: Subject was three years of age.

Upbringing: Raised solely by Calloway Chase in a single-income household. History shows a pattern of financial struggle balanced by high academic expectations.

III. Educational Background

Sunset Park High School: Graduated c*m Laude. Noted by teachers as "highly disciplined" and "determined."

Community College: Earned an Associate of Arts in Sociology.

Note: Academic records suggest she had the grades for a four-year university but lacked the requisite funding to attend.

IV. Financial & Medical Intelligence (The "Leverage")

The investigation into the Subject’s sudden association with Evan [Surname] has uncovered a critical external motivator.

Current Status of Calloway Chase: Diagnosed with Stage III Pancreatic Cancer.

Medical Debt: Substantial. Current treatment costs at the municipal clinic are exceeding the family's total assets.

The information contained within the dossier provided Eleanor with all the clarity she required. It was a classic arrangement born of necessity: Serenity had accepted payment for a role she was never meant to play, trading her presence at Evan’s side for the funds to keep her father alive.

Eleanor could almost see the gears of fate grinding in reverse. She knew instinctively that Serenity had collided with her grandson through that most exhausted of clichés: being in the wrong place at exactly the right time. She already overheard from Evan himself that Serenity’s presence at the café that afternoon hadn't been for Evan’s benefit. She had been there to meet someone else entirely—a mysterious third party whose identity remained irritatingly shielded. It was a cosmic fluke that she had crossed paths with Evan just as he was waiting for the actress he’d originally hired to play his fiancée.

That nagging loose end was precisely why Eleanor had been lurking on the terrace when the couple arrived. She had been deep in a call, peeling back the layers of Serenity’s schedule, trying to discern who the girl was actually supposed to meet that day. Her privacy had been rudely interrupted before she could secure the name, but Eleanor was never one to be deterred by a broken connection. If she couldn’t find the truth in a digital file, she would go straight to the source. She would get the answer from the horse’s mouth—or, more accurately, from the father of the girl herself.

With that determination, Eleanor left her secluded corner at the gala to prepare to find Serenity’s father. She already had his name, so getting his location wouldn’t take long at all. Her people would have his address by the time she got to the car.

Eleanor set off to locate the pair, eventually finding them still deep in the midst of their carefully constructed charade. To the untrained eye, they were the picture of a burgeoning power couple. Serenity, in particular, was currently locked in a dense, intellectual sparring match with Marcus Thorne. Rather than shrinking under the weight of his legendary scrutiny, she was offering sharp, insightful commentary on his concerns regarding the upcoming merger.

She wasn't just reciting lines or nodding along; she was holding her own against one of the most ruthless minds in the industry. As Eleanor watched the girl command Marcus’s attention, a begrudging realization took root. Despite the humble background and the desperate circumstances that had brought her here, Serenity possessed a natural poise that couldn't be taught. She didn't just look the part—she belonged in their circle, perhaps even more than the actress Evan had originally intended to hire.

Eleanor lingered for a few more minutes, a silent observer to the ease with which Serenity handled the room, before finally stepping forward to make her exit.

"Evan."

"Grandmother?" Evan turned, his expression flickering with mild surprise.

"I was just coming to bid you both goodnight," Eleanor said, a practiced, pleasant smile smoothing her features.

"Leaving so soon?" Evan asked, reaching out to steady her elbow—a gesture that felt more like a habit than genuine concern.

"Evan, I am old, and I am tired. I’ve reached the age where I no longer feel the need to mingle for the sake of appearances," Eleanor replied, waving her hand dismissively at the crowd.

"Oh, come now, Madam Sterling. You aren't a day over fifty," Marcus Thorne interjected with a smooth grin.

"Flattery is a currency that holds no value with me, Thorne," Eleanor snapped back, though the slight twinkle in her eye betrayed her playfulness.

Serenity stepped forward then, her gaze steady and warm. "Madam Sterling, it truly was a pleasure to meet you," she said. The respect in her voice wasn't the practiced sycophancy Eleanor was used to; it sounded strikingly sincere.

"Likewise, Ms. Chase. Do enjoy the rest of your evening. Evan, I shall see you at home."

"Goodnight, Grandma." Evan leaned in to give her a brief hug, and Eleanor turned on her heel to depart.

She hadn’t made it five steps when Serenity’s voice drifted after her. "Evan, we should walk her out."

"She’s fine," Evan dismissed, his tone casual. "She has an entire security detail to assist her."

"Evan," Serenity’s voice turned firm, a gentle but unmistakable chastisement. "Even if she had the entire U.S. Military by her side, you are her only grandson. The respectable—the loving—thing to do is to walk her to the door at the very least."

Eleanor slowed her pace, her lips pursing as she listened. She was a woman who had spent a lifetime detecting lies, but she could tell by the sharp, protective edge in Serenity’s tone that this wasn't part of the script. The girl was being entirely, inconveniently, authentic.

Eleanor was prepared to finish her trek to the exit alone, but to her genuine surprise, a familiar presence appeared at her elbow.

"Change of heart, Grandma," Evan said, falling into step beside her. "I’ll walk you to the car."

Eleanor slanted a judgmental look his way, her voice laced with its usual sharp wit. "Since when have you cared enough to see me to the curb?"

Despite the bite in her tone, a rare, quiet warmth bloomed in her chest; she was, quite literally, beaming deep down. Before they reached the heavy oak doors, she couldn't resist peering back over her shoulder one last time.

Serenity was still standing by the ballroom entrance, watching the two of them with a soft, knowing expression. As their eyes met, the girl didn't offer a formal bow or a shy look—instead, she gave Eleanor a quick, playful wink. A real smile finally broke through Eleanor’s composed mask as she turned back, letting her grandson lead her out into the cool night air.

Once Eleanor was settled safely and comfortably into the plush interior of the sedan, Evan bid her a final farewell and retreated into the golden glow of the gala. She watched his retreating figure through the tinted glass until the doors eclipsed him. In an instant, the indulgent warmth she had shown him evaporated, and her features settled into a mask of cold, focused gravity.

“Home, Madam?” her driver asked, catching her eye in the rearview mirror.

“No. Take me to this address,” Eleanor instructed, leaning forward to show him the destination on her phone.

The driver’s brow furrowed as he read the screen. “Madam? This is a hospital. Are you feeling alright? Should I call your physician?”

“I’m fine, Arnold,” Eleanor replied, her voice clipped and brooking no further argument. “There is simply someone there I need to meet.”

“Yes, Madam. Right away.” The driver let out a quiet sigh of relief, the tension leaving his shoulders as he shifted the car into gear. He punched the coordinates into the GPS, and the car glided away from the curb, leaving the world of high-society champagne behind for the sterile, fluorescent reality of the city hospital.