Chapter 3: Eleanor

Eleanor's day began like any other, with the sweet scent of sugar and butter filling her kitchen. She loved baking, and today was no exception. Cookies were her secret weapon for keeping the children under control, and she took pride in her creations. A little treat could work wonders transforming her pupils into sweet little angels. As she mixed and measured, her mind wandered to the fun she'd have with her young students later.

But her peace was short-lived. Halfway through preparing the cookies, her phone rang in the bedroom, shattering the silence. She hastily removed her nylon gloves, leaving a trail of flour behind, and rushed to answer it. Seeing the caller ID, her heart sank. It was a number she'd been trying to avoid. Her mood plummeted as she swiftly cut the call, but the phone rang again. And again. On the third ring, she turned it off altogether, silencing the annoying sound.

Her good day had been ruined. The doorbell rang, and with a groan, she yelled, "Coming!" She hoped against hope that it wasn't the caller at the door. Peering through the peephole, her heart sank even further – it was her mother. Eleanor regretted answering the doorbell now; she couldn't pretend she wasn't home. She contemplated escape through the back door but decided against it, she knew her mother would never leave until she'd wreaked her usual chaos.

"Elly, I know you're inside, open up!" her mother screeched, disregarding the early hour and sleeping neighbors. "ELLY!" she screamed again, leaving Eleanor no choice but to open the door.

With a fake smile, Eleanor greeted her mother, "Moooommmmm. What brings you here this morning?" But her mother didn't bother to answer, pushing past her and strutting into the house like she owned it.

Despite the early hour, her mother was dressed to the nines in a knee length sequin dress, pearls, and a feathery coat. Her mother's blonde hair, identical to Eleanor's, was styled in a sleek bun, a stark contrast to Eleanor's messy one. Soft tendrils framed her mother's face, which looked younger than her years. She stormed into the house, her black Chelsea boots leaving marks on the carpet, and slumped onto the couch, tossing her coat aside.

"Peter called," her mother said, and Eleanor rolled her eyes. "Of course he did. What did he say?"

Her mother raised an eyebrow. "He said you ended things. That's not true, is it, Elly?" Eleanor remained silent, prompting her mother to scowl and sit up straight. "I asked you a question, Elly. You didn't break things off with him, did you?"

Eleanor affirmed, "I did." Her mother's calm demeanor surprised her, but she knew it was a precursor to a storm. "Get back with him," her mother ordered, her voice firm.

A streak of defiance ran through Eleanor's veins. "No!" she exclaimed. "It's not a request, Elly," her mother said, her voice rising. "No!" Eleanor repeated "You don't even know what he did. He-" she said trying to explain, but her mother cut her off.

"It doesn't matter what happened. You will get back with Peter Wallace and marry him." Her mother thundered, her expression unyielding.

Eleanor felt tears of frustration well up in her eyes. Her mother's expression softened slightly at the sight of her tears. "It would make your father happy," she said, her voice a little gentler.

Eleanor spat out, "He's not my father."

Elena Gilbert now Elena Marshall's life was forever changed at 17, when she became pregnant and was disowned by her family. Forced to fend for herself and her daughter, Eleanor, she struggled to make ends meet. In those early years, it was just the two of them against the world, with Elena being Eleanor's entire world.

But everything shifted when Elena met Richard Marshall. They fell deeply in love, and he welcomed Eleanor into his life, along with his own daughter, Samantha, from a previous marriage. For a brief moment, it seemed like they had found their perfect family.

However, as time passed, Elena's behavior changed. She began to favor Samantha over Eleanor, punishing her own daughter for every minor infraction. Samantha, never kind to begin with, reveled in the attention, while Richard, though not cruel, grew distant and started seeing other women.

Elena, desperate to maintain Richard's affection, clung to Samantha. The more Samantha liked Elena the more Richard tolerated her. The two women were eerily similar- superficial, hot-tempered and manipulative. They might as well have been blood due to their similarities

Eleanor searched for any resemblance to her mother, but the only similarities she found were physical - their shared hair color and face shape. Her bright green eyes, a stark contrast to Elena's stormy grey, served as a reminder of her biological father, a man she had recently discovered was alive. Just a month ago, he had found her, shattering the lie Elena had told her - that he was dead.

Eleanor's life was now a tangled web of secrets and lies. She knew her mother would be furious if she discovered that her biological father knew her address. The thought sent a shiver down her spine.

Ignoring her outburst, Eleanor's mother rose from the couch like a queen from her throne, smoothing her dress. "Stop acting juvenile, Elly. Pout and sulk for this week. Whatever Peter did, he deserves that much. But by next week, I want you two lovey-dovey like you were in the past, okay?" She walked towards Eleanor, placing a kiss on her cheek. "One week, Elly," she whispered, before taking her coat and slamming the door behind her.

The door slam jolted Eleanor back to reality, and she slumped to the ground, overcome with desperation. Wrapping her arms around herself, she let silent tears roll down her face. She sobbed until there were no tears left to shed.

Finally, she picked herself up, messaging the school administration to call in a substitute teacher, as she wouldn't be able to make it to school on time. Then, she headed to her bedroom, where she cried herself to sleep, exhausted from the emotional turmoil.