A Second Chance at Forever novel (Eleanor and Bernard)

Chapter 1400

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Chapter 1400

In Yates’ mind, Eleanor had always been the epitome of gentleness. It was the first time he’d seen her

fly off the handle, and for a fleeting moment, his resolve wavered. But as quickly as it came, it passed.

“You and Bernard are all wrong for each other.”

Eleanor’s lips curled into a scornful smile, the disdain spreading like a stain. “Bernard and I have been

through thick and thin for over a decade. We’ve faced life and death together, weathered every

hardship. How come we’re all wrong just because you say so?”

Yates shot back, “I made a deal with Bernard. Break up with you, and he walks free. He didn’t hesitate

to leave you for his freedom. Tell me, how is a man who can ditch you at the drop of a hat right for

you?”

Eleanor scoffed, “If you hadn’t trapped him, hadn’t used my unborn child as a bargaining chip, would a

man, alone and mired in trouble, ever choose to leave me?”

Bernard’s so-called ‘choice’ wasn’t a true reflection of their relationship but a result of Yates’ relentless

pressure. With no other option, he had to compromise first and then plan to strike back with

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vengeance.

A man usually decisive in action, Bernard bent in the face of the enemy to protect her and their child.

That alone proved his worth as a husband and father. No one was better suited than he.

But Yates wouldn’t understand. “If it were me, no matter the threat, I wouldn’t choose to break up. So,

in my eyes, Bernard doesn’t love you enough.”

A sardonic laugh almost escaped Eleanor’s eyes. “And you? To get Pauline, you muscled in on her and

her high school sweetheart, claimed her by force, yet never made her your wife. Is that love?”

Yates hadn’t expected such audacity. Angered, he retorted, “What happened between your

grandmother and me is none of your business!”

As Yates flared up, Peterson stepped in, trying to calm Eleanor but was briskly pushed aside. “Your

matters are not for me to meddle in, just as mine are not for you!”

Yates’ eyes blazed with resentment as he locked gazes with Eleanor’s equally indignant stare.

“Remember, Eleanor, you are my granddaughter. We are family.”

Eleanor’s derision didn’t wane. “You restrict freedom, threaten my child, and lie to my face, all for your

selfish gains. What kind of grandfather does that make you? What kind of family are we?”

Yates’ face darkened visibly, his fist clenching on the countertop, veins bulging with fury.

Fearing for Eleanor’s safety, Peterson instinctively stepped in front of her. “Grandpa, it’s my fault. I’m

sorry for the argument.” Yates, needing an outlet for his anger, suddenly stood up, his hand flying out to

deliver a stinging slap across Peterson’s

face.

The solid slap left Peterson’s cheek swollen, pain searing through him, but he clenched his teeth and

remained silent, only turning his head to look back at the enraged Yates.

Neither spoke, but the heaving of their chests spoke volumes of the rift the slap had caused. It was a

growing disappointment for Peterson, more than just a heartache.

Eleanor, shielded behind him, wanted to stand up for Peterson but was held back. “Eleanor, arguing

with Grandpa is pointless. He won’t understand you.”

Pauline’s tragic demise, a gang assault that led to her death, had haunted Yates for decades. Only his

burning hatred kept him going.

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Eleanor’s struggles, unseen by Yates, meant he couldn’t grasp the significance of Bernard to her. All he

knew was that Bernard led the Siren Organization, making him his greatest adversary.

Yates, blinded by vengeance, couldn’t let go of his hatred, opting instead to keep Eleanor close through

deceit, never considering the damage he was causing.

Unless Yates released his hatred, he would never empathize with Eleanor. But it was clear that a man

consumed by grudges would never relent. If anything, Eleanor’s defiance might only intensify his wrath.

Peterson didn’t want Eleanor to bear such hatred. As he tried to lead her away, Eleanor resisted and

confronted Yates.

“Apologize!”

The request reignited Yates’ anger, his face turning an ashen shade of rage. “Do you even know what

you’re demanding?”

Eleanor, unafraid of Yates’ authority, pointed at Peterson’s swollen face and demanded coldly, “You hit

Peterson for no reason. Don’t you owe him an apology?”

Peterson, touched yet concerned, tried to pull her back. “He’s my grandpa. A slap is nothing. Don’t fight

with him over me.”

But Eleanor stood her ground, her clear eyes staring defiantly at Yates. “How can someone so unjust,

so quick to violence, claim to be our family?”

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