Eleanor Whittaker clung to Xavier Warren's hand as if it were a lifeline.
Her pale face was filled with pleading emotion: "Xavier, I don't ask for much, just come to see me once a month, just have a meal together and say a few words. Is such a small request really too much for you?"
Xavier Warren frowned slightly, a sarcastic curve on his uplifted lips.
He didn't say a word and simply withdrew his hand once more.
The answer was obvious.
Eleanor Whittaker's face turned ashen as she withdrew her hand from the table, placing it on her lap instead.
Her fingers curled tightly, knuckles turning white.
With all the courage in her heart, tears streaming down her face, she spoke again: "I can still help you, Xavier, if you stay with me, I can help you, but Nora Harrow can't help you with anything."
This was her last bargaining chip; she couldn't believe Xavier Warren wouldn't be moved.
Xavier Warren frowned, clearly not understanding what she meant: "..."
