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99 A Summons to Lunch, A Daughter’s Unease
99 A Summons to Lunch, A Daughter’s Unease
Damien glanced at the tray, his expression unreadable. “Is that headed to suite 307?”
Cora’s smile faltered. She glanced nervously at Vivienne, then back at her father. “Does she have to come?”
Cora nibbled her lower lip, a habit she’d inherited from Elara. “I could stay with you if you want.”
Elara pushed her half–finished plate away, her appetite gone. She’d grown accustomed to eating alone, working alone, sleeping alone. But the ease with which Cora had accepted her absence–had preferred it–still cut deep.
Elara glanced at her half–eaten meal, then back at her daughter’s uncomfortable expression. She understood immediately what was happening. This was Damien making a show of including her, likely for his mother’s benefit, with no real desire for
her company.
“Yes, Daddy?” she asked, beaming up at him.
“I enjoy being alone sometimes,” Elara said gently. “It gives me time to think and work.”
Her fork clinked against the china plate as she speared a piece of grilled chicken. Below, she could hear the distant sounds of laughter as the group prepared to leave for the restaurant. Vivienne’s melodic laugh rose above the others, followed by Cora’s
delighted giggle.
“That would be lovely,” Elara replied, knowing the dessert would never materialize.
“She’s operating under the delusion that sharing a table might somehow salvage their marriage,” Lucas added with a smirk.
“Absolutely,” Elara confirmed with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Go have
fun.”
For now, though, Elara would finish her solitary lunch, complete her work, and prepare for whatever the rest of the weekend might bring. She was getting better at protecting herself from unnecessary pain. And declining Damien’s empty gesture of inclusion was just another step in that process.
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Cora shifted from one foot to the other. “Dad asked me to tell you we’re all going down for lunch. He said you should come too.”
“Go on,” Damien urged, giving her a gentle push toward the stairs.
Damien nodded in agreement, then caught sight of his daughter emerging from the game room. “Coco, come here.”
Cora skipped over to her father, her dark curls bouncing. She was wearing the new dress Vivienne had bought her, a pink sundress with tiny butterflies embroidered along the hem.
Cora trudged up the staircase, her earlier enthusiasm dampened. Behind her, she heard Lucas muttering something that made Vivienne laugh. She walked slowly, dragging her feet along the plush carpet, hoping her mother might refuse the
invitation.
Beck cleared his throat. “We should head down. The reservation is for noon.”
With a quick wave, Cora darted out the door, her footsteps quickening as she raced back downstairs. Elara listened to the fading sound, imagining her daughter’s excited report that Mom wouldn’t be joining them after all.
She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. This was temporary. The divorce would finalize, boundaries would clarify, and she would build a new relationship with her daughter. One where Cora didn’t feel torn between loyalties.
The staff member assigned to the third floor carefully balanced the tray of food as he made his way down the corridor. He’d been instructed to deliver lunch to Mrs. Elara Thorne’s suite, and he was determined not to spill a single drop of the soup he carried.
“Cora,” Damien’s voice carried a warning note.
“My apologies, sir,” the young man replied, clutching the tray tighter.
Elara took a sip of water, her throat suddenly tight. She’d made the right choice by declining. Why subject herself to another meal where she’d be the outsider, watching her daughter blossom under Vivienne’s attention while Damien looked on approvingly?
Damien’s jaw tightened. “My mother asked me to look after her this weekend.”
“Careful there,” Lucas said, stepping aside to let the staff member pass.
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Vivienne’s shoulders relaxed visibly at this explanation. “Eleanor is quite persistent about family meals, isn’t she?”
“That’s thoughtful of him,” Elara replied carefully. “But as you can see, I’ve already started my lunch. Please thank him for the invitation, but I’ll stay here.”
Damien placed his hand on her shoulder. “Go upstairs and invite your mother to join us for lunch.”
She opened her laptop again, determined to focus on something productive rather than dwelling on the family dynamic that excluded her. The project with Julian offered a welcome distraction, a world where her intelligence and contributions were valued.
Lucas chuckled. “Well, I guess we won’t need to invite her to lunch with us then.”
To everyone’s surprise, Damien shook his head. “We should still invite her. It’s only polite.”
As he rounded the corner, he nearly collided with a small group heading toward the main staircase. He immediately recognized Damien Thorne, the hotel owner’s grandson, alongside the stunning Vivienne Dubois. Behind them walked Lucas Sterling and Beck, engaged in quiet conversation.
When she reached suite 307, she hesitated before knocking softly.
“That’s sweet of you,” Elara said, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind Cora’s ear. “But you should go enjoy lunch with your father. I’m perfectly fine here with my work.”
“It’s okay,” Vivienne interjected smoothly, crouching to Cora’s level. “Your grandmother would want your mom to join us. Family is important, right?”
Relief flashed across Cora’s face before guilt quickly replaced it. “Are you sure? You’ll
be all alone.”
Cora grinned, relief evident in her posture. “Okay! Dad got Beck to bring those
desserts you
like from that shop in the city. I’ll ask him to save you one.”
As the sounds of departure faded completely, Elara allowed herself a moment of honest reflection. The quiet of the room pressed in around her, emphasizing her solitude. It wasn’t just lunch she was missing–it was her daughter’s childhood, her affection, her everyday moments that were now shared primarily with Vivienne.
“Since when do you care about politeness with Elara?” Lucas asked once the staff
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member was out of earshot.
Cora pushed the door open to find her mother sitting at the desk, her lunch tray beside her laptop. Elara looked up with surprise, her expression softening at the sight of her daughter.
“Yes, Mr. Thorne. For Mrs. Thorne.”
“Come in,” Elara called from inside.
“Hi, sweetie,” she said, closing her laptop. “Is everything okay?”
Elara’s heart ached at her daughter’s conflicted expression. Cora clearly didn’t want her to join them–likely worried about upsetting Vivienne–yet felt obligated to show
concern.
Corà nodded reluctantly, though her eyes showed her confusion. She’d grown accustomed to lunches with just her father and Vivienne. Having her mother join them felt strange, like mixing two separate worlds.
Elara watched Cora’s retreating figure before she closed the door and continued having lunch alone. The room fell silent except for the gentle hum of the air conditioner. She returned to her seat, pushing aside the sting of her daughter’s transparent relief at her refusal.
The offer was halfhearted; Elara could see her daughter’s eyes darting toward the door, eager to return downstairs where Vivienne awaited. For a moment, Elara considered accepting, selfishly wanting to spend time with her increasingly distant child. But forcing Cora to stay would only breed resentment.
The staff member continued on his way, but not before noticing the startled expressions on the faces of Damien’s companions. Vivienne in particular seemed taken aback, her perfectly manicured hand freezing mid–gesture.
“You sure?” Cora asked, already backing toward the door.
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