Born Into Villain's Family: I Have a 200\% Rebate System
Chapter 88: Eleanor

Chapter 88: Chapter 88: Eleanor

She laughed, clearly enjoying his reaction.

"Relax, I was joking. You’re cute when you blush, though."

Theodore exhaled, trying to calm the rapid thudding of his heart.

"You shouldn’t joke about things like that. Someone might take you seriously."

She winked. "Maybe that’s the fun part."

Before he could respond, a voice called out in the distance. "Eleanor!"

She turned toward the sound, a small pout forming on her lips.

"Oh, looks like my sister is calling me."

Theodore’s heart sank a little at the realization that their time together was coming to an end.

She stood up, dusting off her dress before glancing back at him with a playful smile.

"Oh, wait a minute!" she exclaimed, tapping her forehead lightly. "I don’t even know your name."

He smiled, finally regaining his composure. "It’s Theodore."

She beamed. "Nice to meet you, Theodore. I’m Eleanor."

His smile faltered slightly. Eleanor.

A chill ran down his spine as Aurora’s words resurfaced in his mind.

Stay away from women whose names start with ’E’.

"See you around, Theodore," Eleanor said with a wink before turning and walking away, her golden curls bouncing behind her.

Anyone would have fallen for Eleanor by now, but Theodore?

All he felt was chills.

The coincidence was too much to ignore.

First, she had approached him out of nowhere, and then she had asked for his number as if they had known each other for ages.

And now, the name—Eleanor.

His fingers clenched into fists as doubt began to gnaw at him.

Was this just happenstance, or was something far more sinister at play?

His sister had always been eerily accurate in her predictions.

Even the way she had foreseen her coma sent shivers down his spine. What if this wasn’t just a fluke?

What if Eleanor was the reason he would never become famous? What if she was a distraction meant to lead him astray from his dreams?

Theodore’s throat felt dry. His paranoia deepened.

What if she wasn’t even human?

He swallowed hard.

What if Eleanor was a ghost, lured by his undeniable handsomeness, drawn to him with the intention of making an impression before disappearing into the void?

Her golden curls and bright blue eyes—were they truly enchanting, or was there something unnatural about them?

The more he thought about it, the more unsettling the encounter became.

Her laughter, her winks, her effortless charm—it was almost too perfect.

Too smooth. Too...planned.

Theodore suddenly jumped to his feet, his nerves getting the best of him. He needed to get away from here.

Away from the shooting location.

Away from her.

His role might be insignificant, but what if staying here meant sealing his fate?

"Nope. Nope. Nope," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head vigorously.

Without another thought, he turned on his heels and bolted. He didn’t care if people saw him running like a lunatic.

At that moment, all he cared about was putting as much distance as possible between himself and Eleanor.

As he sprinted through the lot, he made a solemn vow.

No more fantasies about women whose names start with ’E’.

It was final. Eleanor, Evelyn, Elise, Emma—whoever they were, wherever they were, he would avoid them like the plague. He wouldn’t let fate toy with him.

................

As Eleanor walked away from Theodore, the playful smile she had worn mere moments ago curled into something far more triumphant.

Her blue eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she subtly bit her lower lip, trying to suppress the bubbling excitement within her.

She had done it.

Suppressing the urge to twirl in delight, she tilted her head slightly, her voice laced with amusement as she spoke inwardly.

"System, how did I do?"

A mechanical yet soothing voice immediately responded in her mind.

[Task accomplished. You have successfully positioned yourself as a future superstar, Theodore’s white moonlight.]

"Finally," she murmured under her breath.

It had been a painstaking ordeal, waiting for the right moment to make her entrance.

For over a week, she had wandered around the filming location, her patience stretched thin as she searched for her target in a state of solitude.

According to the novel, Theodore was meant to sit at one of these benches, wallowing in dejection after being berated by the director.

That was the moment the kind and radiant Eleanor would step in, offering him encouragement and unknowingly planting the seeds of obsession within him.

A picture-perfect scenario—one that was supposed to unfold naturally.

Yet, the reality had proven frustratingly unpredictable.

On the first day, Theodore had left immediately after the shoot, his shoulders squared in forced nonchalance.

On the second, he had been caught up in an unexpected conversation with a crew member.

On the third, he had been too absorbed in reviewing his script, leaving Eleanor lurking in the background like a fool.

By the eighth day, she had started doubting the accuracy of the novel’s timeline, wondering if some unknown factor had altered the course of events.

But today—

Today, the pieces had finally aligned.

She had approached him at just the right moment, her words carefully chosen to leave a lingering imprint in his mind.

The way his eyes had lit up when she complimented him, the faint blush dusting his cheeks—it had all gone according to plan.

A soft chuckle escaped her lips.

In the novel’s future, when Theodore reached the pinnacle of fame, he would tirelessly seek her out, desperate to reclaim the warmth of their brief encounter.

What awaited her was a life of luxury, with jewelry, properties, and endless wealth bestowed upon her.

And yet, at the back of her mind, she recalled the darker undertones of the novel’s plot.

His search for her was not out of gratitude. It was obsession.

Theodore, once hardened by the struggles of the industry, would turn possessive, unwilling to let go of the one person who had comforted him in his moment of despair.

He would spare no expense in tracking her down, imprisoning her in a gilded cage of his own making.

Honestly, Eleanor felt turned on...