Game Eleanor, a viper lurking in the shadows, watched Luna and Noah with a cold, calculating gaze. The slap had ignited a fire in her heart, a burning desire for revenge. She had underestimated Luna, allowed her to get under her skin, and now she was determined to make her pay. Eleanor knew Noah was a spoiled, immature man, easily manipulated. She had spent years playing him like a fiddle, using her charm and her position to get what she wanted. Now, she would use her knowledge of his weaknesses to turn him against Luna. She found Noah in the gardens, his face etched with a mixture of anger and confusion. He was still reeling from Luna's slap, his pride bruised, his ego wounded. "Noah," Eleanor said, her voice soft and sympathetic. "What happened? You look troubled." Noah sighed, his gaze fixed on the ground. "It's Luna," he said, his voice laced with resentment. "She slapped me." Eleanor's eyes widened in feigned surprise. "Oh, Noah, how awful! What did she say?" Noah recounted the events of the library, his anger flaring as he spoke. He told Eleanor about Luna's accusations, her insults, her defiance. He painted himself as the victim, the innocent party, the one who had been wronged. Eleanor listened patiently, her eyes gleaming with a cold, calculating light. She knew exactly what to do. "She's jealous," Eleanor said, her voice laced with a hint of pity. "She's just a simple village girl, she doesn't understand the world you live in. She's probably scared of losing you, of losing the chance to climb the social ladder." Noah's anger flared even higher. He had been struggling to make sense of Luna's outburst, and Eleanor's words provided a convenient explanation. He was the victim, Luna was the jealous aggressor, and Eleanor was the understanding friend who knew how to help him. "You're right," Noah said, his voice thick with anger. "She's just a peasant, she doesn't know anything about love or respect." Eleanor smiled, her eyes gleaming with triumph. She had successfully planted the seeds of doubt in Noah's mind, turning his anger towards Luna. "You need to be careful, Noah," she said, her voice laced with concern. "She's not who you think she is. She's manipulative, she's ambitious, and she's dangerous." "I know," Noah said, his voice filled with resentment. "I'm starting to see her for what she really is." Eleanor continued to whisper in Noah's ear, feeding his anger, reinforcing his prejudices. She told him stories about Luna's past, stories she had invented, stories designed to make him see Luna as a cunning, manipulative schemer. By the time Noah left the gardens, he was seething with anger. He had been manipulated, played, and he was determined to get revenge. He would show Luna who was really in control, who was really powerful. Eleanor, watching him walk away, smiled. She had successfully turned Noah against Luna, and she had done it without lifting a finger. She was a master manipulator, a puppet master who could control the strings of destiny with a mere whisper. And as she watched Noah disappear into the castle, Eleanor knew that the game had just begun. The battle for Noah's heart, for his affection, for his power, was far from over. And she was ready to fight.
