Chapter 110
Elena's POV
When the morning sunlight slipped through the curtain gaps, I opened my eyes.
Faint sounds drifted up from downstairs—someone deliberately keeping quiet. Then came the soft click of a door closing, the sound of a car engine fading into the distance.
I checked my phone. Six a.m.
He'd left for the office before dawn.
I wrapped myself in a cardigan and went downstairs. The living room was quiet, but the kitchen light was still on.
On the dining table sat a carefully prepared breakfast—fried eggs, bacon, toast, and a cup of hot coffee in an insulated mug. Beside the plate was a note in his neat handwriting:
Added milk to the coffee. Drink it while it's hot.
There's fruit in the fridge. Eat if you're hungry.
I stared at that note for a long time.
Even rushing to a meeting, he'd made sure I wouldn't wake up to an empty kitchen.
My fingers traced the edge of the paper. Was this careful tenderness real?
Don't think about it. I forced myself to sit down and pick up the fork.
The eggs were still warm.
I took a bite and suddenly felt my throat tighten.
After breakfast, I sent my mother a message.
Elena: Mom, are you okay?
The message showed "Delivered." I stared at the screen for five minutes.
No reply.
Maybe she's still sleeping, I told myself.
Two hours later, I sat on the edge of the bed, phone in my lap, staring at the three unread messages I'd sent to my mother.
Elena: Mom, are you okay?
Elena: Please just let me know you're safe.
Elena: I'm worried.
All showing "Delivered." None showing "Read."
My stomach twisted. Donald must have done something.
I thought about Caleb's offer. Fifty million. Enough to pay off every debt, get my mother out, let us both disappear from Donald's reach forever.
But Lila's words kept circling back, sharp as broken glass.
Childhood bullying causes lifelong psychological damage. That kind of trauma doesn't just go away.
I pressed my palms against my eyes until I saw stars.
What if all of this was carefully orchestrated revenge?
My phone buzzed.
Damon: We need to talk. Now.
I stared at the screen. Then another message dropped.
Damon: My parents have already invited other families to witness the engagement ceremony. Tomorrow someone's coming to measure you for custom formal wear.
My breath caught.
Elena: I haven't agreed to anything.
The reply was instant.
Damon: This isn't a request. The longer you drag this out, the worse it gets for your family.
My fingers trembled as I typed.
Elena: You can't just—
Damon: Think about your mother's situation right now. You really want to make it worse?
He was using her. Weaponizing her safety to control me.
Damon: It's just a fake engagement. When it's over, we'll figure out how to break it off. We need to get through this crisis first. I really can't take it anymore. I'm fucking living like a prisoner right now.
I raked my fingers through my hair in frustration.
I tried calling my mother again. Straight to voicemail.
I took a shaky breath and typed back.
Elena: Damon, I need you to do me a favor. Can you go to my house and check on my mom? I can't reach her.
Damon: Now you need my help? Elena, you're always like this. When you want something, you bend. Every other time, you run.
My jaw tightened.
Elena: Please.
A long pause. Then:
Damon: Fine. I'll go.
The anxiety in my heart wouldn't dissipate from being unable to reach my mother—my father must have done something to her again. Violence? Imprisonment? Every guess made me want to scream.
---
Damon's POV
I shoved my phone in my pocket and grabbed my jacket.
Scarlett's message was still sitting unread on my screen.
Scarlett: So what am I supposed to be during this "engagement"? The mistress? The dirty secret?
I didn't have time for this. A fake engagement was the only option left. There was no way to satisfy the family and keep Scarlett. But Scarlett didn't want to hear that.
I took the car. Twenty minutes later, I was standing at the Cross estate gate, pressing the intercom.
The camera above the gate swiveled toward me.
For two full minutes, nothing happened.
Then Donald's voice crackled through the speaker. "Damon?"
His face appeared on the monitor screen. Tense. Almost... nervous.
"Yeah. Is Elena home?"
"Elena's not here right now." His voice was stiff, carefully neutral.
I kept my tone light. "I'm actually here to see Mrs. Cross. Wanted to check if she's feeling better."
"That's not necessary." Donald's face twitched. "Vivian's resting. She needs quiet."
I leaned closer to the camera. "I won't stay long. Just want to check in."
"I said no." His voice hardened. "She's sleeping."
Through the monitor, I could see tiny beads of sweat on his forehead. His eyes kept darting to the side, like he was checking something—or hiding something.
"Mr. Cross—"
"We appreciate your concern, but this is a family matter." The screen went dark.
I stood there, staring at the blank monitor.
Something was wrong.
I got back in the car and called Elena.
She picked up on the first ring. "How is she? Is my mom—"
"Your father wouldn't let me in." I kept my voice even. "He said she's resting, but his whole attitude was strange."
Silence on the other end. Then her breathing got faster.
"Elena, I think... your father might have imprisoned her."
I heard something that sounded like a choked sob.
"You should come home. Check on her yourself. If something's really wrong..." I paused. "The longer you wait, the more dangerous it gets."
"I—" Her voice cracked. "Thank you."
The line went dead.