Eloise and Stanley arrive in San Francisco, their journey from New York via the Pacific Railroad finally coming to an end after four days. As they step off the train, they are greeted by the humid morning air of San Francisco, a city that instantly bares to Eloise and her husband its three most recognizable qualities - promise, excitement and the stench of poorly treated sewage. Above them, the sky is a brilliant blue, streaked with hints of light orange that can only be seen so early in the day, so late in the fall. Stanley holds Eloise tightly to himself as they walk off the platform. She does not know if his guardedness is because of her situation or fear of the strange city, but the gesture sends butterflies dancing inside her, anyway. All around them, the sound of seagulls calling harmonizes with the distant chimes of cable cars making their way up the steep hills. This usually mundane process makes for such a stunning view from inside the train station that Eloise stops for a f
Eliza and Fay stand outside Mary Lou's door in their shared New York apartment, whispering to each other like scheming politicians."Should we knock on her door, Fay? It's been three days since she last came out," Eliza murmurs, her eyes darting nervously from Fay to the closed door. "The only reason we know she's still alive is because of those hourly outbursts of absolutely unladylike profanities."Fay frowns with concern, then whispers back, "We can't just leave her in there. What if she's really in trouble? We should open the door."“We cannot,” Eliza says, grabbing Fay’s hand just before she turns the knob.“Three days is enough time to let her wallow by herself. We have to step in before she hurts herself; Mary Lou would do the same for either of us.”Eliza sighs, her resolve wavering. "Fine, let's try. But if she gets mad, it’s on you."Needing no more encouragement, Fay tries the handle, but it's locked. Undeterred, they knock softly at first, then a little louder when there's
Stanley and Eloise do not wait for the day to break before beginning their preparation to visit Arthur Finch’s residence. They hire a carriage to take them to the outskirts of the city where Finch's mansion is located. At barely thirty minutes the journey is relatively short, but the anticipation makes it feel longer.Barely three minutes from the estate, its grandeur becomes apparent. Tall wrought-iron gates, adorned with intricate designs that cause Eloise to strain her neck, guard the entrance. Beyond the gates, a long driveway flanked on either side by tall trees arranged like sentinels leads up to the house. The house itself is a magnificent structure that appears to be three stories tall with so many windows and balconies shooting out of its every surface making it look like a chiton.The carriage stops before the gates, and a stern-looking guard steps forward. "State your business," he says, eyeing them with suspicion.Stanley leans out of the carriage window. "We have an appoi
Eliza waits by the door, trying to steady her heart. She hears footsteps approaching and then a gentle knock. The sound startles her slightly but she quickly composes herself, adjusting her outfit and hair one last time. With a deep breath, she opens the door to reveal Paul who is standing on the other side with a bouquet of flowers and a warm smile."Paul! It’s so good to see you," Eliza exclaims, feigning surprise as though they had not planned this visit and she had not been standing by the door for the better part of the last hour."It’s great to see you too, Eliza," Paul replies, handing her the flowers. "These are for you."Eliza takes the bouquet with a coy smile and leads Paul inside. As they step into the apartment, Mary Lou and Fay rise from the couch in the living room, both dressed nicely for the occasion."Paul, this is Mary Lou and Fay," Eliza introduces them. "Ladies, this is my fiancé, Paul."Paul greets them with a polite nod and a friendly smile. "Nice to meet you bo
A little boy on a bicycle rides past Stanley as he walks down one of San Francisco’s picturesque streets with his hands deep in the pockets of his coat, the morning sun casting a golden glow on the charming Victorian houses that line the road. The crisp salty air wafting in from the nearby bay is still hard in Stanley’s nostrils but he has accepted it as a permanent fixture of the city. Trees arch overhead, their leaves rustling gently in the breeze, casting dappled shadows on the cobblestone pavement.He continues his walk, passing by shops with the most colorful awnings he’d ever come across. A bookstore catches his eyes. With its tempered glass window filled with an eclectic mix of titles, he considers making a stop here ,but he moves on, drawn by a particular destination he had spotted a few days ago. When he turns the corner, he finds himself on a lively street filled with cafes and boutiques, each one exuding its unique charm.Stanley’s eyes light up as he spots a sign ahead: C
A gentle breeze blows Eloise’ hair in her face where she sits on a weathered wooden bench by the bay, her gaze drifting out over the water. The light from the early morning sun shimmers on the rippling waves. Seagulls cry overhead as if in response to the gentle lapping of the water against the shore. Eloise cannot help but notice how the tranquil scene is a stark contrast to the turmoil she feels inside. She takes a deep breath, savoring the crisp air as she tries to calm her racing thoughts. Her hands clasp tightly in her lap, fingers entwined as she waits.After a few minutes, she hears the crunch of footsteps on the gravel path behind her. She turns slight and sees Arthur Finch approaching. His tall, imposing figure is silhouetted against the rising sun, his gait steady and deliberate. He is dressed impeccably, as always, in a dark suit that seems out of place in the casual, coastal setting. He seems to Eloise to be the kind of man who always wants clear evidence of his status.A
Mary Lou’s hands move with precision as she refills champagne glasses and balances trays laden with hors d'oeuvres. The room is abuzz with conversation and laughter, but she remains focused. Her every move is calculated to ensure all the guests she serves are satisfied.From across the room, Phyllis Bradshaw observes Mary Lou’s efforts with a discerning eye. She notices how Mary Lou navigates the crowded space with grace, the way he tops off the District Attorney’s drink with a warm smile and the way the philandering man gives her an appreciative once-over. Phyllis turns to Fay, who is standing nearby.“She’s doing an excellent job,” Phyllis remarks.Fay beams with pride. “Thank you, Mrs. Bradshaw. I’ll be sure to let her know.”Phyllis nods curtly and returns her attention to her guests with a “hello darling” that is directed at no one in particular. Fay makes her way over to Mary Lou, who is just finishing up at a nearby table. She taps Mary Lou on the shoulder, a wide smile on her
The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm light over Stanley and Eloise’s hotel room. Stanley is sitting on the edge of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt, while Eloise stands by the vanity, brushing her hair. Unlike the city outside, the atmosphere is quiet and intimate.Stanley clears his throat, breaking the silence. "Eloise, I need to tell you something."Eloise purses mid-brush to look up. "What is it, dear?""I ran into Emily today," Stanley says, watching her closely for a reaction.Eloise raises an eyebrow. "Emily? Your ex? That seems rather... random."Stanley nods. "I know, it was unexpected. We met at a café. She looked... well, she looked at peace."Eloise's expression hardens slightly, but she continues to brush her hair. "What did you talk about?""Mostly catching up," Stanley says. "But then I told her about our situation with Arthur Finch. She said she knows him. Apparently, he's one of her father's business partners. She’s offered to help us.."Eloise sets the brush
The next morning, the auditorium buzzes with the energy of hopeful actors and actresses. The stage is set for auditions, with rows of seats filled by those waiting for their turn. Ms. Parker sits at a long table near the front, a stack of scripts in front of her. Mary Lou stands beside her, clipboard in hand, a mix of excitement and determination on her face. As the first actor steps onto the stage, Ms. Parker nods to Mary Lou, who announces, "Next, we have Kevin Thompson reading for the role of Jack." Kevin begins his monologue, his voice echoing through the auditorium. Ms. Parker and Mary Lou watch intently, making notes and exchanging glances. The actor finishes his piece, and Ms. Parker smiles warmly. "Thank you, Kevin. We'll be in touch," she says. Kevin leaves the stage, replaced by the next hopeful. The auditions continue, a parade of talent showcasing their skills. Some performances are strong and confident, while others falter under the pressure. Throughout it all, Mary
As Eloise and Phyllis step into the restaurant, the first thing that hits Eloise is the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the scent of warm pastries. The interior is elegantly decorated, with soft lighting that casts a golden glow over the room. Polished wooden floors reflect the light, and the walls are adorned with tasteful artwork. Tables are set with crisp white linens and delicate china, creating an atmosphere of refined sophistication. The gentle murmur of conversation fills the air, interspersed with the clinking of silverware and the occasional burst of laughter. A soft jazz melody plays in the background, adding to the restaurant’s serene ambiance. The smell of caramelized sugar and freshly baked bread wafts from the kitchen, making Eloise’s mouth water despite her tension. As soon as they step through the door, a well-dressed maître d' hurries over, a broad smile spreading across his face as he recognizes Phyllis. "Mrs. Bradshaw, what a pleasure to see you ag
"Dad," Stanley says, his voice barely above a whisper. A mixture of shock and confusion flickers across his face. "What are you doing here?" James smiles, a knowing, almost condescending smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He strides forward with the confidence of a man accustomed to being in charge, and comes to stand beside Sebastian. "Stanley," James greets, his voice smooth and measured. "I see you've met Sebastian. We've been in touch for some time now, discussing matters that concern both of us—and, by extension, you." Stanley feels a rush of emotions—anger, betrayal, and confusion—swirl within him. His mind races to make sense of this unexpected alliance. "What is going on?" Stanley demands, his voice stronger now, fueled by the simmering anger. "Why are you here, and what are you both up to?" James and Sebastian exchange a glance, a silent communication passing between them. Then, James turns his full attention to his son. "Stanley, there are things at play here tha
Stanley grips the steering wheel tightly as he drives away from their home in Tribeca. The bustling streets of New York City quickly transition from the dense urban jungle to the more open, quieter roads leading out of the city. His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, primarily centered on the man he is about to confront, Sebastian Flores. As he navigates through the busy traffic, he reflects on the events that have led him here. The revelation of Emily's orchestrated scheme to drive Eloise to the brink had been a shocking blow. But it had also brought to light deeper, more sinister undercurrents. Who else had been involved? And why? The questions gnawed at him, fueling his determination to find answers. The cityscape gradually gives way to the sprawling suburbs, with their neatly manicured lawns and tree-lined streets. The sounds of honking horns and the constant buzz of the city fade into the background, replaced by the more subdued hum of tires on asphalt and the occasional chirp o
Eloise pushes the shopping cart through the polished aisles of the grocery store, each step echoing softly on the tiled floor. The store is brightly lit, with wide aisles that provide a clear view of the meticulously arranged shelves, As she moves toward the bakery section, the comforting aroma of freshly baked bread and pastries wafts through the air, mingling with the faint scent of coffee brewing at the nearby café. Soft, soothing background music plays with the murmur of other shoppers discussing their purchases or catching up on their day. Eloise pauses by the dairy section, scanning the neatly arranged rows of milk, yogurt, and cheeses. As she rounds the corner near the dairy section, she nearly collides with a tall, familiar figure. "Eloise?” the man exclaims, his voice tinged with surprise and delight. Eloise looks up, her eyes widening. “Thomas! It’s been ages!” Thomas Wilson, her old boss from the magazine where she first worked as an assistant when she moved to Ne
Mary Lou sits across from Eloise in the living room, a cup of tea in her hands. The morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow on their faces. Eloise notices the contemplative look in Mary Lou’s eyes and even before her friend speaks, she senses that a significant conversation is about to unfold. "Eloise, there’s something I need to tell you," Mary Lou begins, her voice steady but tinged with a hint of uncertainty. Eloise sets her own cup down, giving Mary Lou her full attention. "What is it, Mary Lou? You know you can tell me anything." Mary Lou takes a deep breath to gather her thoughts. "I’ve been thinking a lot about my future and everything that’s happened. I’ve come to a decision, and I wanted to share it with you first." Eloise leans forward with concern etched across her features. "Go on." Mary Lou looks down at her cup, then back up at Eloise. "I’ve decided to quit acting." Eloise’s eyes widen in alarm. "What? But you love the theater! Actin
The next few weeks fly by quickly but they bring a welcome period of peace for Eloise and Stanley, something they both now know is a rare find. Their home is a sanctuary of calm, filled with the gentle and seamless progress of daily life. The newborn's soft coos and the rhythmic ticking of the clock create a soothing backdrop to their newfound tranquility. For the first time in a while, they both experience what it feels to have a truly serene domestic life. Eloise, whose belly is no longer swollen with a pregnancy that weighs her down, moves gracefully around the house. She tends to their child’s every need and settles fully into her role as a mother. She accepts this role like an expert. Her face which was once marked by worry and tension now radiates a contentment. She often pauses to gaze out of the window, and in those moments, her eyes relect a quiet sort of happiness, one of contentment and fulfillment, as she watches the leaves which had previously turned into the rich hues o
Stanley and Eloise stand at the entrance of Emily’s grand townhouse, their hearts pounding in unison. The air is crisp with the bite of the approaching winter. Police officers surround them and their presence is a comforting assurance of safety. Before they walk forward, Eloise looks to Stanley who gives her a reassuring look. The lead detective knock gently and after a short while, the door swings open to reveal Emily. As always, she is poised and elegant in a short black dress and black heels. Her hair is blown out and light so that the wind from the outside blows them freely. In her hand is a half full glass of wine which she holds on tightly too for dear life. When she sees those before her, her eyes widen in surprise. The surprise is quickly replaced by panic. "What’s the meaning of this?" she demands, her voice dripping with disdain. "Emily Flores," one of the officers steps forward, "you are under arrest for conspiracy, harassment, and endangerment." Emily’s composed facad
The streets of New York City are just as busy and lively as they usually are but to Stanley, they feel distant and muted. The crisp air bites at his skin, a stark reminder of the approaching winter. The sky is a heavy gray, threatening snow that hasn't yet begun to fall. The wind whistles through the tall buildings, carrying the scent of roasted chestnuts from a vendor just a few feet away and the sharp, metallic tang of cold concrete. Stanley pulls his coat tighter around himself. As he walks, his breath is visible in the cold. The city's sounds—the honking of cars, the chatter of pedestrians, the distant wail of a siren—blend into a background hum that he barely registers. His mind is elsewhere, consumed by the revelations of the past few days. He thinks about the pieces that have fallen into place, the clues that led him to understand who is responsible for the turmoil that has gripped their lives. The manipulation, the threats, the orchestrated events—all designed to destabiliz