Chapter 112
Elena's POV
My fingers hovered over the keyboard. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, cold and clinical. In the bed beside me, my mother's breathing was shallow but steady.
I could tell him yes. I could ask him to come get me, to pull me out of this nightmare like he'd done before.
But what would that cost him?
My eyes burned. I blinked hard and typed quickly.
Elena: I'm not coming back tonight. I've already gone home.
The message felt inadequate. Cowardly.
Caleb: Is this your answer?
I squeezed my eyes shut. Something inside me felt like it was tearing apart.
My thumb moved across the screen.
Elena: Thank you for taking care of me these past few days. What you said to Hector—I won't tell anyone.
I hit send before I could change my mind.
One minute passed. Then two. Five.
Nothing.
I set the phone face-down on the table and pulled my knees to my chest.
It felt like drowning. Like struggling to wake from a nightmare only to find yourself back at the beginning, trapped in the same suffocating darkness.
---
Around four a.m., my mother stirred.
I sat up fast, knocking over the empty water cup on the bedside table. It clattered across the floor.
"Elena?" Her voice was a rasp.
"I'm here." I grabbed her hand. Her skin was still somewhat warm, but cooler than before. The fever was breaking.
She turned her head slowly, squinting through the dim light at the other bed. Donald lay there, sprawled across the narrow mattress in an uncomfortable-looking position, one arm dangling off the edge. He'd insisted on staying. Not out of concern—out of control.
My mother's fingers tightened weakly around mine. "You should go," she whispered. "Before he wakes up."
"Mom—"
"If you don't leave now, he'll just keep forcing you to get engaged to Damon."
"I already told him I'd do it," I said quietly. "I agreed to the engagement."
Her face crumpled. "No. Elena, you can't—"
"It's the only way to keep you safe." I tried to smile. Failed. "If marrying Damon means Dad stops... if it means our family keeps its standing in the pack, then it's worth it."
"He'll hurt you." Tears slipped down her temples. "Damon won't be kind to someone he doesn't love."
"I know."
"Then why—"
"Because you're my mother." My voice cracked. "I've already made enough wrong choices. Let me make one right one."
She pulled her hand free and turned her face to the wall. Her shoulders shook silently.
I sat there until the shaking stopped. Until her breathing evened out again. Until the first gray light of dawn started bleeding through the blinds.
---
Two days later, we were home.
My mother lay in her bedroom upstairs, door closed. She'd barely spoken during the drive back. Donald had made calls the entire time—to lawyers, to accountants, to someone at Vance Industries whose name I didn't catch.
I stood in the living room, still wearing the same clothes. My phone was heavy in my pocket.
The doorbell rang.
I already knew who it would be.
Donald appeared from his office, straightening his tie. "That'll be Isabella and Damon. Go upstairs and change into something decent."
"I'm fine."
"Now, Elena."
I met his eyes. Held them.
The doorbell rang again.
I turned and walked to the door. Opened it myself.
Isabella stood on the porch in an immaculate cream coat, her smile warm and practiced. Behind her, Damon shifted his weight from foot to foot, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets.
"Elena, darling." Isabella stepped inside, pulling me into a brief, perfume-scented hug. "How are you feeling? Damon told me about your mother."
"She's resting."
"Of course, of course." Isabella looked past me, eyes scanning the foyer. "We won't stay long. Just wanted to confirm a few details about the engagement party."
Party.
Like we were celebrating something worth celebrating.
"Come in," my father said from behind me, all warmth and hospitality now. "Please, make yourselves comfortable."
I stepped aside. Let them pass.
Damon's shoulder brushed mine. He didn't look at me.
They settled in the living room—Isabella on the sofa, Donald in his armchair. Damon stood by the window, arms crossed, jaw tight.
I sat in the chair farthest from all of them.
"The designer will be here tomorrow," Isabella said, pulling out her tablet. "For your dress fitting. We're thinking something classic. Elegant. Off-white, perhaps? With your coloring—"
"I'll wear whatever you choose." My voice sounded flat even to my own ears.
Isabella paused. Looked up. "Don't you want to have a say, dear?"
"My father's already arranged everything, hasn't he?"
Donald's expression darkened. "Elena—"
"It's fine." I met Isabella's gaze. Held it. "I trust your judgment completely."
Something shifted in her eyes. Concern? Suspicion?
"Well," she said carefully. "As long as you're comfortable."
"Perfectly comfortable."
Damon turned from the window. His eyes found mine.
I looked away.
Isabella continued talking. About venues and guest lists and whether to serve champagne or wine. I heard the words without processing them. Everything felt distant. Muffled.
When she finally stood to leave, she touched my shoulder gently. "You seem tired, sweetheart."
"I am."
"Get some rest. We'll see you tomorrow."
Donald walked them to the door. I heard the murmur of voices. The click of heels on tile.
Then Damon was in front of me.
"I need to talk to you," he said quietly.
"Now?"
"Now."
I stood. Followed him onto the back porch.
The cold air hit like a slap. I wrapped my arms around myself.
Damon leaned against the railing, studying me. "How's your ankle?"
"Fine."
"You'd do anything to get away from me. That's not like the Elena I know."
I laughed—a short, bitter sound. "Second floor doesn't kill you. And honestly? Dying might've been easier."
His whole body went rigid. "Do I disgust you that much?"
"Did you forget? You said looking at me made you sick. At the ski resort."
He moved fast—grabbed my shoulders, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. "That was only because you had to provoke me, being with that bastard—"
"Don't call him that."
He blinked. "What?"
"Bastard." I pushed his hands off. "Don't call Caleb that. He has a name."
Damon's anger intensified. "Are you really going to fight with me over him again?"
I turned my face away. Stayed silent.