Chapter 75

Nathaniel's generosity made Harrison hesitate before responding. "Mr. Falcon, whatever amount you deem suitable will be fine."

One dark eyebrow arched. "How about a million?"

A million dollars?

Harrison's eyes sparkled with surprise. He hadn't anticipated Nathaniel offering such a substantial sum without hesitation.

"That should suffice."

Nathaniel produced a check and passed it to Harrison.

Harrison quickly verified the amount. Six zeros confirmed it was indeed a million. "Thank you, Mr. Falcon. I'll take my leave now."

Clutching the check, Harrison departed with visible satisfaction.

Nathaniel returned to their bedroom where Eleanor awaited him.

She glanced up from her seat. "What did Harrison want to discuss?"

Casually loosening his onyx dress shirt's top button, Nathaniel revealed his sculpted collarbone with a smirk. "What do you imagine he wanted?"

Eleanor's brow furrowed. "I'm being serious. This isn't a joke."

Nathaniel removed his platinum wristwatch, placing it on the dresser. Noticing her tense expression, his eyebrow lifted. "He didn't say much. Just requested financial assistance."

Her expression shifted. "Did you give him money?"

"I did."

"How much?"

"One million."

Eleanor stared in disbelief. "Why would you give him anything? And why that amount?"

Nathaniel closed the distance between them. "Eleanor, what's gotten into you tonight? That's your foster father. A million is nothing."

She studied his aristocratic features, radiating effortless elegance. Nathaniel had always been generous with her. To him, a million was pocket change - barely noticeable charity.

Her clear gaze locked onto his handsome face. "Give him a million today, he'll demand two tomorrow. You're feeding his greed. I'm getting that money back."

She turned to leave, but Nathaniel caught her slender wrist.

"Eleanor, explain yourself." His voice dropped to a murmur. "Why was your foster father imprisoned for ten years? That's a serious sentence."

He was inquiring about Vincent's crime.

His gaze remained gentle, showing no judgment despite Vincent's visit. Raised in privilege and educated among elites, Nathaniel carried himself with natural refinement. He'd always been decent, as had Eleanor - accepting her past without prejudice. This was true aristocracy.

When Vincent had posed the question earlier, Eleanor hadn't answered - not from shame, but because it wasn't relevant.

She met Nathaniel's eyes. "That's personal. It doesn't concern you."

Nathaniel's lips curved knowingly. Pulling her closer, he chuckled while reprimanding, "Eleanor, remember your position."

She spoke deliberately. "Nathaniel, don't interfere if you won't take responsibility. Don't offer hope where there can be none."

She extracted her wrist from his grasp and turned away.

He was a good man, but not hers. Their divorce loomed, after which he'd belong to Isabella. No matter how much she might crave his support, it could never be.

Years ago, he'd promised to rescue her from that dark place. He'd never know how many days she'd waited there, watching for him. He never came.

Instead, Vincent had claimed her.

He'd abandoned her.

In the VIP lounge of The Velvet Club, Vincent sprawled across a leather sofa, slapping the million-dollar check onto the glass table. Extending his legs, he smirked at the staff.

"Bring all your finest girls here. See this? I've got real money now!"