Madeline’s face flushed as Eleanor finished her whisper, her expression shifting from curiosity to shock to disgust. "That shameless woman..." she hissed, her voice low, furious.

She suddenly turned to Eleanor, her eyes narrowing, suspicious. "You... Brittany didn’t give you any gift..." Her tone was accusatory, demanding.

Eleanor hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress. "She... she gave it to everyone..." she mumbled, her voice uncertain.

"I still have it... I haven’t opened it yet..." She paused, her eyes flickering to Madeline, gauging her reaction. "Do you need it...?"

Madeline’s expression darkened, her voice sharp, disgusted, as if the very idea of the dildo was beneath her. "Who would need that kind of stuff?" she snapped, her hand waving dismissively, as if she could swat the conversation away like a fly.

But the blush creeping up her cheeks betrayed her—she was not as indifferent as she pretended to be. The thought of it aroused her, repulsed her, fascinated her. And I knew—she was already imagining it.

I listened, my mind racing. So Brittany had given everyone one of those dildos. Marina, Eleanor, Madeline—all of them. It was a power move, a test, a game. And I was right in the middle of it, watching the pieces fall into place.

The tension in the room was palpable, thick with secrets, lies, and unspoken desires. The air was electric, charged with the weight of unspoken truths and hidden agendas. And then, Eleanor spoke again, her voice dripping with false sadness, mock sympathy.

"Your situation is good..." she said, her tone pretending to be sad, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Your husband is already dead... You must be a free spirit..." She paused, her lips curling into a smirk, her voice dropping to a whisper, teasing. "Tell me... how many men have you climbed into bed with...?"

Madeline’s eyes flashed, her voice sharp, outraged. "You have no shame, Eleanor..." she hissed, her fingers clenching into fists in her lap. The insinuation was clear—Eleanor was poking at her, testing her, daring her to react.

But Eleanor wasn’t done. She leaned back, her voice light, playful, as if she were discussing the weather. "What is there to be ashamed of?" she murmured, her shoulders shrugging.

"I am already this old... Who knows how long I will live?" She paused, her eyes flickering to Madeline, challenging her. "I envy your freedom..."

Madeline’s expression shifted, her voice cold, suspicious. "What are you pretending to be?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing. "Aren’t you free?" There was a hint of accusation in her tone, a dare for Eleanor to admit the truth.

Eleanor laughed—a soft, mocking sound, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "I am just caged with spies around..." she admitted, her voice dropping to a whisper, conspiratorial. "Don’t you know my husband?" She paused, her lips curling into a smirk.

"He is too controlling... Everything is monitored here..." Her fingers gestured to the room, her voice mocking. "With spies..." She leaned in, her voice a whisper, teasing. "Except that Carter... She is my person..."

I glanced at Carter, who was still standing near the window, her arms crossed, her gaze sharp, watchful. She didn’t react, her expression unreadable, but I knew—she was listening, watching, protecting Eleanor. And that was interesting.

Carter was loyal—completely, unshakably—to Eleanor. And in this world of betrayal and deceit, loyalty was a rare commodity.

Eleanor leaned back in her seat, her voice shifting to a teasing tone, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Forget about these things..." she said, her fingers waving dismissively, as if the conversation about spies and freedom was beneath her.

Then, her gaze flickered to me, her lips curling into a smirk. "I see now you have stolen your daughter-in-law’s bodyguard..." she murmured, her voice laced with amusement. "Tell me... isn’t she angry at you...?"

Madeline laughed—a sharp, mocking sound, her voice dripping with arrogance. "Will she dare to be angry with me...?" she scoffed, her eyes rolling as if the very idea was ridiculous.

"Don’t you know what kind of untamed slut that Marina is...?" Her voice was venomous, disdainful, each word like a knife thrown at Marina’s reputation.

"And now she is already in cahoots with that Brittany..." She paused, her lips curling into a cruel smirk. "Who knows what kind of mess those two will create..."

Eleanor chuckled, her voice soft, knowing. "Oh, Madeline..." she murmured, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

"You do have a way with words..." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper, conspiratorial. "But tell me... do you really think she’ll stay out of trouble...?"

Madeline’s expression darkened, her voice cold, calculating. "She won’t..." she hissed, her fingers tightening around the armrest of her chair. "And when she does..." She paused, her eyes flickering to me, assessing, planning. "...I’ll be ready..."

The tension in the room was palpable, thick with secrets, lies, and unspoken alliances. Madeline and Eleanor were allies—but they were also rivals, each testing the other, each trying to gain the upper hand. And I was right in the middle of it, watching, learning, waiting for my moment to strike.

Eleanor smiled, her voice dropping to a whisper, teasing. "And what about him...?" she murmured, her eyes flickering to me, assessing me like a piece of meat. "Do you trust him...?"

Madeline followed Eleanor’s gaze, her eyes locking onto me, her expression unreadable. The weight of her stare was heavy, calculating, as if she were weighing my worth—my loyalty, my use. "I trust no one..." she said, her voice cold, final, like the slam of a prison door.

The words hung in the air, heavy with cynicism and years of betrayal. Then, her lips curled into a smirk, sharp and knowing. "But he..." She paused, her eyes raking over me like a general assessing a soldier. "...he might be useful..."

I stood still, my posture rigid, my expression neutral. But my mind was racing. With my enhanced senses—a gift from the Eternal Vitality—I could hear every word they whispered, crystal clear, as if they were shouting in my ear.

Madeline leaned in closer to Eleanor, her voice dropping to a hush, but I caught every word. "So what are you up to now these days...?" she asked, her tone casual, but her eyes were sharp, searching for secrets, weaknesses, leverage.

Eleanor sighed, her fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass, her voice light, dismissive. "Nothing..." she murmured, her shoulders shrugging as if the question were beneath her.

"Just passing my time..." But there was a hint of something more in her tone—boredom, restlessness, a hunger for something new, something exciting.

Madeline chuckled, her voice low, knowing. "Liar..." she teased, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

"You’re never just passing time..." She paused, her voice dropping to a whisper, conspiratorial.

"You’re always scheming... always planning..." Her fingers tapped against her thigh, impatient, calculating. "So tell me... what’s really going on in that devious mind of yours...?"

Eleanor laughed—a soft, mocking sound, her eyes flickering to me for a brief moment, assessing, teasing. "Oh, Madeline..." she murmured, her voice dripping with false innocence.

"You know me too well..." She leaned in, her voice a whisper, playful. "But some things are better left unsaid..." Her lips curled into a smirk, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "...for now..."

Madeline nodded, her expression thoughtful, her mind racing with possibilities. She knew Eleanor was hiding something—and she wasn’t about to let it go.

But for now, she let it slide, her voice shifting to a lighter tone, teasing. "Fine... keep your secrets..." she murmured, her eyes flickering to me again, assessing. "But remember... I always find out eventually..."