{POV Stefan}
Moving day arrived with a flurry of activity that felt both familiar and entirely foreign.
I found myself carrying boxes again, just as I had for Harper mere weeks ago, but this time in reverse—watching Lila's modest belongings come through the front door instead of my stepdaughter's going out.
Her possessions were few compared to what Harper had taken with her. The contrast between Lila's sparse belongings and the sprawling Hale residence felt almost painful, a visual reminder of the different worlds we came from.
"I'd offer you a tour," I said, setting down a box of books in the foyer, trying to inject some lightness into the weighted atmosphere, "but you've been here so often, it seems pointless."
Lila nodded, but her smile was strained, not quite reaching her eyes. "It feels different now."
I understood exactly what she meant. I felt it too—the shift in atmosphere, the weight of what we were doing pressing down on both of us like a physical force.
She wasn't Harper's friend visiting anymore. She wasn't a guest stopping by for coffee and gossip, someone who would leave at the end of the evening and return to her own life.
She was living here now. Carrying my child—or she would be, once the implantation finally happened. Under my roof. Every familiar corner of the house suddenly felt charged with new meaning.
I watched Lila glance around the entryway, taking in the space as if seeing it for the first time. The marble floors she'd walked across dozens of times.
The staircase she'd climbed to reach Harper's room. The living room where they'd binged reality television and shared secrets I was never meant to hear.
Her discomfort was palpable, written in the tension of her shoulders and the way her hands kept finding each other, fingers intertwining nervously.
The front door opened without warning, and Eleanor swept in with her usual commanding presence. Her heels clicked sharply against the marble floor, each step precise and deliberate.
She stopped short, taking in the scene before her—movers carrying boxes through the hallway, Lila standing awkwardly by the stairs, me in the middle of it all looking distinctly caught.
"What's all this?" Eleanor's tone was light, casual even, but her eyes were sharp as they scanned the chaos. I knew that look. It was the same expression she wore in boardrooms before she eviscerated an unprepared colleague.
I moved quickly to intercept her, positioning myself between Eleanor and Lila like a human shield.
"Lila's moving in today. We discussed this, remember?"
I turned to Lila, desperate to get her out of the firing line. "Why don't you go upstairs and look around your room? Make sure everything's set up the way you need it. The movers can handle the rest."
Lila nodded gratefully, practically fleeing up the staircase. I watched her disappear around the corner, painfully aware of Eleanor's gaze tracking her every step.
Once we were alone, or as alone as we could be with movers trudging past every few seconds, Eleanor turned to me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Something between amusement and calculation.
"She's really moving in, then."
"We agreed this was the best solution," I said, keeping my voice steady. "Her stress was affecting the pregnancy preparations. This eliminates the problem."
"Mmm." Eleanor set down her purse on the hall table, removing her coat with deliberate slowness.
Every movement felt theatrical, designed to draw out the tension.
"I suppose I just didn't expect it to happen quite so quickly. Or thoroughly." She gestured at the boxes accumulating in the hallway. "It looks like she's moving in permanently."
I frowned, confusion mounting. "You weren't against this when we discussed it. You said it made sense. What's changed?"
Eleanor sighed, examining her manicured nails as if this entire conversation bored her. "Nothing's changed. I'm simply observing that you seem very invested in her comfort. Very attentive to her needs."
"She'll carry our child, Eleanor. Of course I'm attentive."
"Our child." Eleanor repeated the words slowly, tasting them like wine she suspected had gone sour.
"Yes. Of course." She paused, tilting her head with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Perhaps we should just adopt Lila, since you're so fond of her. Make it official. She could be the daughter you never had."
The comment landed like a slap. I stiffened, heat rising to my face before I could control my reaction. "Don't say such nonsense. She's our surrogate. How can you even suggest something like that?"
Eleanor's eyebrow arched, clearly amused by my reaction. "My, my. Touched a nerve, did I?"
Before I could respond, Eleanor's demeanor shifted entirely. The coldness melted away, replaced by something languid and predatory that I hadn't seen from her in months.
She stepped closer to me, trailing her fingers along my arm, her voice dropping to a honeyed purr.
"You know, Harper's departure could have given us complete freedom of action."
Her hand slid up to my shoulder, then my neck, her touch both familiar and foreign after so long without it.
"Anywhere and anytime we wanted. We could have done this..." she pressed against me, her lips brushing my ear, "even on the dining table. Or the floor. Or that soft leather sofa you love so much."
My eyes darted nervously toward the movers passing through the hallway, my body tensing at her unexpected advance. "Eleanor…"
"But now there are three of us again," she continued, ignoring my discomfort. Her hand traveled down my chest, brazenly possessive. "Fulfilling our marital duty will be difficult, if not impossible, with a young woman wandering around the house at all hours."
"Eleanor, stop." I caught her wrist, glancing again at the movers who were thankfully focused on their work. "We're not alone."
She laughed, low and throaty. "Since when have you become so shy?"
Her eyes glittered with something between mockery and genuine desire.
"When we first met, you didn't let me out of the bedroom for days. You couldn't keep your hands off me. Remember that weekend in Cabo? The hotel staff must have thought we'd died in there."
I stepped back, putting distance between us. My jaw was tight, patience fraying like old rope. "That was a long time ago, Eleanor."
"Was it?" She tilted her head, studying me. "Are you saying you don't want me anymore?"
"I'm saying we haven't fulfilled our 'marital duty' in six months." The words came out harder than I intended, but I didn't take them back. "I'm sure neither of us will notice any changes to our routine."
The playfulness drained from Eleanor's face. For a moment, something flickered in her expression, hurt, maybe, or anger, before she masked it with practiced efficiency.
She straightened her blouse, composing herself with the precision of someone who had spent decades never letting anyone see her crack.
"Well," she said coolly, her voice stripped of warmth, "at least we understand each other."
She picked up her purse and walked toward the stairs without another word.
I stood alone in the foyer, surrounded by Lila's boxes and the echo of movers' footsteps, with the distinct feeling that I'd just made everything more complicated than it already was.