Under her granddaughter's gaze, she reflexively agreed.
Jane's expression faltered. "Even in a prestigious kindergarten, teachers can't manage so many children. One-on-one guidance isn't always possible. A child's personality development, as well as their exploration and understanding of the world, requires professional guidance..."
Rebecca also realized this, but since she had already promised her granddaughter, she had no choice but to compromise. "Then why don't you teach her your specialty? Catherine can attend school as usual, and after school, it'll be your turn to accompany her."
Eleanor: ...
She hadn't entirely achieved her goal, but this arrangement wasn't bad either. Jane smiled and said, "How could this be considered tiring? Cathy is so adorable. I'd be happy to spend time with her."
With the conversation reaching this point, Eleanor had no choice but to finish her meal while listening to Jane and Rebecca exchange flattery and compliments.
Once the meal was finally over, Eleanor didn't want to linger a moment longer. She took her precious daughter back to their room, played games with her, looked at flashcards for a while, and before long, it was time for her nap.
Eleanor gently tucked Cathy into bed, but as she was about to leave, Cathy clung to her sleeve, her eyes pleading. "Mommy, you don't have to stay with me. Go see Daddy..."
Eleanor was taken aback. "Why? Don't you want Mommy to stay with you?"
"But Mommy, you didn't talk to Daddy today."
The little girl's voice was soft and tender, capable of melting even the hardest heart. "Are you still mad at Daddy? Yesterday, you ended the video call so quickly, and Daddy looked really sad. He went to pick you up early this morning, and he didn't even get to see me wake up."
Eleanor fell silent.
Her relationship with Charles was complicated, and when she returned home today, she had been too preoccupied with the unexpected presence of Jane to focus on anything else. She hadn't realized how much her daughter had noticed.
Seeing the worry in Catherine's big, round eyes, Eleanor felt a pang of guilt. She shouldn't let her daughter bear the weight of adult matters.
Smiling gently, she reached out and ruffled Catherine's hair. "Mommy's not angry. There was just a guest at home, and I got distracted."
"Really? That's great!"
The little girl, too young to question her mother's words, instantly relaxed. She nestled into Eleanor's arms with a contented sigh.
"Mommy is the best. I really love you."
"Mommy will always be here for you. Now, close your eyes and get some sleep…"
Eleanor gently tucked her daughter in, watching as Catherine's breathing evened out.
Just as she was about to leave the room, the door to the master bedroom next door creaked open.
"Brother Charles, I have something to—"
Jane entered with a smile, only to pause mid-sentence.
Charles was sitting on the edge of the bed, wiping medicine onto his bare arm. A half-open first aid kit lay on the floor beside him.
His shirt was unbuttoned halfway, exposing his strong, smooth muscles. The dark bruise on his arm stood out starkly against his skin.
Jane was startled when she saw Charles's injured hand. Her expression quickly turned to one of concern as she approached him.
"Charles, what happened to your hand?"
"It's none of your business," Charles replied coldly, frowning. "How did you get in here? This isn't a place for you. Leave."
"I'm sorry, I didn't know you were busy," Jane said quickly. "Auntie mentioned you were in the room, and I noticed the door was open. By the way, I have some experience with wound care. Let me help…" She picked up a cotton swab and carefully applied iodine to disinfect the wound.
Charles was about to refuse when the door opened again.
Eleanor stepped into the master bedroom, having just put her daughter to sleep, and froze at the sight before her.
For a moment, she didn't know how to respond. Amused, she finally said, "Am I interrupting something?"
"Don't be ridiculous. Come help me," Charles said immediately. He stood and walked over to the sofa to distance himself from Jane.
Jane's smile faded under Eleanor's gaze. "I saw Charles taking out the first-aid kit, so I thought I could help. Since you're here, I'll leave you to it."
Leave to do what? This was Charles's home. What could a guest like Jane possibly have to be "busy" with?
Eleanor scoffed softly, choosing not to respond. Once Jane left, she took a clean cotton swab, poured antiseptic onto it, and tended to Charles's wound herself. The bruising on his arm was severe—likely from the altercation that morning at the Brooks family estate.
If this had happened earlier, Eleanor might have felt guilty or even sorry that Charles took the blow for her. But now, she couldn't be bothered with such emotions. Her hands worked briskly, rubbing the medicine into his wound with barely concealed frustration.
As she recalled the scene she'd just walked in on, her irritation deepened. She used to believe that, in her previous life, Jane had only fallen for Charles after spending a long time around the Harrison family. But now, it was clear—Jane had targeted Charles from the very beginning. On the very first day of her visit to the Harrison family, she had already made her way into his room. How calculating.
With her husband and child beside her, and someone else ready to swoop in, Eleanor felt she needed eight pairs of eyes just to keep things in check. No wonder her past life ended in disaster. It wasn't entirely her fault.
The more she thought about it, the more agitated she became. She threw the cotton swab aside and rubbed his bruised arm roughly with her hand.
Charles winced in pain, and Eleanor glanced at him with satisfaction. "It's a bruise. You have to rub it hard to help it heal faster."
Charles gave her a sharp look, something unreadable in his expression.
But Eleanor remained composed. She packed up the medicine box and went to the closet to retrieve a blanket, preparing to sleep on the floor. The room fell silent, save for the soft rustling of the bedding.
Charles frowned. "You're not sleeping with me?"
"I'm not worthy of sharing a bed with you," Eleanor said sarcastically. She turned to walk away, but Charles stopped her.
"Eleanor, are you jealous? That woman came in on her own. I didn't ask her to treat my wound."
"Why would I be jealous? You're overthinking things," she said, her voice rising defensively. "What you do is none of my concern, Charles. I don't dare interfere. Wait—don't pull me. Let go!"
Charles seized her arm and pushed her onto the bed.