Chapter 116
Elena's POV
Damon showed up at my door before ten, looking energized, carrying what appeared to be a wedding planner's folder.
I'd cried most of the night. My eyes were swollen, my head pounding. I felt hollow.
"Jesus, Elena." He frowned. "You look terrible."
"Thanks." I stepped back to let him in. "What do you want?"
"We need to go through the arrangements." He walked past me into the living room, spreading documents across the coffee table. "Venue, guest list, your dress—"
"I'm not feeling well," I said flatly. "Can this wait?"
He barely looked up. "This is important."
Of course it was. Everything was important to everyone except how I actually felt.
I sat across from him, pulling my cardigan tighter. He launched into details about venues and catering, his voice a drone I could barely process.
He looked up, suspicious of my compliance. "You're not going to argue?"
"Would it matter?"
Something flickered across his expression—maybe guilt, maybe irritation. "Elena, I know this isn't ideal—"
"Ideal?" A bitter laugh escaped. "That's one word for it."
He set down his pen, leaning forward. "Let's stop fighting. We've known each other so long. We can go back to how things were—"
"You're the one who's been fighting with me. You thought I hurt Scarlett. I explained, but you didn't believe me," I interrupted.
"I admit I was too harsh, but regardless of the truth, can we just let that incident go?"
Let's pretend nothing happened. Let's go back to me being convenient and you being comfortable.
I almost laughed. Almost.
"Fine," I said. "Fresh start."
The lie tasted familiar on my tongue. I'd been lying to keep the peace my entire life. What was one more?
"So how did you explain us to her?"
"I told Scarlett it's just for show. Nothing between us will really change."
Of course.
My stomach turned. So this was my future—being the acceptable face of Damon's life while Scarlett got his actual attention and affection. The Luna in name only, the convenient solution to a family problem.
The silence in the living room was suffocating. I sat across from Damon, cold tea untouched on the coffee table between us. My eyes burned from lack of sleep, my head throbbed in waves, and every muscle in my body screamed for rest.
"We've been cooped up all morning looking at this stuff. Let's go out. Fresh air might help."
I didn't want to go anywhere. I just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a week, maybe longer.
"Billy's got a race today. Underground track in District 6." Damon's expression brightened slightly, the way it always did when he talked about cars and speed. "I thought we could check it out. Get your mind off things."
Get my mind off things. As if watching him play with his toys would erase my bad mood.
I wanted to refuse, but then I thought about how the Cross family still needed the Vance family's help. If I didn't comply, Father might hurt Mother again.
"Okay," I said.
"Great. I'll tell Billy we're coming." He pulled out his phone, already texting.
"Let me get a coat."
When I stood, the room tilted slightly. My body felt wrecked.
---
The drive to District 6 should have taken forty minutes. I made it last longer by insisting on the back seat.
"What? Why?" Damon looked genuinely confused when I opened the rear door instead of sliding into the passenger seat.
"I'm tired. Want to lie down."
It wasn't entirely a lie. But mainly, I couldn't bear sitting next to him, pretending we were a couple going out for a pleasant afternoon. The back seat gave me distance. Space. A chance to curl up under my coat and try not to think about anything.
He shrugged and let it go.
---
Damon's POV
Something was wrong with Elena beyond the obvious exhaustion. I'd known her long enough to read the signs—the way she held herself too carefully, like she might shatter if she moved wrong. The mechanical way she agreed to everything without her usual subtle resistance.
My phone buzzed as we hit the highway. Scarlett's name flashed on the screen.
"Hey," I answered, keeping my voice low. "I'm on my way. Should be there in about forty minutes."
I glanced in the rearview mirror. Elena had her eyes closed, coat pulled up to cover most of her face.
"Alright. I'll meet you at the warehouse. Back entrance."
After she hung up, I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, that familiar restlessness building. The smart play would be to tell Elena that Scarlett would be there. Get it out in the open, let her adjust before we arrived.
But when I glanced back and saw how small she looked, how defeated, something stopped me. She'd find out soon enough anyway.
The city gradually gave way to industrial wasteland—abandoned factories, rusted machinery, the skeletal remains of Saint-Helier's manufacturing past. District 6 existed in the gaps between official zones, a space where rules bent and broke.
We were almost there when I couldn't hold it in anymore.
"Elena." I caught her reflection in the mirror. She didn't open her eyes. "Scarlett's coming too."
A pause. Then: "Okay."
That was it. Just "okay." No anger, no protests, nothing.
"You're really not going to say anything about it?" I asked, surprised and somehow disturbed by her lack of reaction.
Her eyes opened then, meeting mine in the mirror. They were completely empty.
"Why would I?" she said. "You already told me the engagement is just for show. That nothing changes between you two." She paused, and when she spoke again her voice was so flat it barely sounded like her. "I'm just a prop in your life, Damon. Props don't get to have opinions."
The words hit harder than they should have. I opened my mouth to argue, to say she was wrong, but she'd already turned to look out the window, effectively ending the conversation.
Something twisted in my chest. Guilt, maybe, or the uncomfortable realization that she was right.