Chapter 122
Damon's POV
My pulse quickened. I felt my throat move involuntarily, swallowing air. My eyes tracked her descent down the stairs like watching a stranger, someone wearing Elena's face who'd walked into the wrong house.
She looked untouchable. Perfect. Like an exhibit behind museum glass.
I forced myself to look away, staring hard at the floor. My hands felt awkward at my sides. I shoved them in my pockets.
When I looked up again, she was watching me. No—not watching. Observing. Polite and distant, like I was an acquaintance at a formal event she didn't particularly want to acknowledge. She gave me a slight nod, the kind you'd give someone you don't want to talk to, then turned toward her mother standing in the living room doorway.
That small gesture—that dismissal—stung more than expected.
I bit the inside of my cheek, tasting copper. Get it together. This was just a performance. A necessary formality. After today, we'd both return to our separate lives.
Starport with Scarlett. That's the plan.
But Elena's complete indifference scraped against my nerves. She wasn't nervous. Wasn't shy. Showed none of the emotions a bride—even a fake one—should have on her engagement party day.
She looked like she was checking off items on a to-do list. Show up. Wear the dress. Smile for the cameras.
I clenched my jaw and turned away.
---
In the living room, Vivian adjusted Elena's coat with trembling hands. Her eyes were rimmed red, her voice barely audible. "Wait until you get to the hotel to take this off. Don't catch cold."
A few society women stood nearby, murmuring polite congratulations. The atmosphere was celebratory but tense, like everyone was desperately trying to believe in the fairy tale.
I watched Vivian's hands shake as she smoothed the coat over Elena's shoulders. Watched Elena's face maintain perfect blankness, perfect control.
She's not even pretending to be happy.
The thought settled in my chest like a stone.
Vivian's fingers lingered on the fabric, her lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, I thought she might cry. But she swallowed it down, forced a smile, and stepped back.
Elena reached out and took her mother's hand. "Mom. I'm fine."
Her voice was steady. Like comforting a child.
Vivian's composure cracked. A tear slipped down before she could stop it.
"Let's ride together," Elena said softly. "I'll keep you company in the car."
Vivian nodded, unable to speak.
---
The convoy consisted of three black stretch sedans. I sat in the front passenger seat of the first car, the driver silent beside me. Elena and Vivian were in the back seat, separated by a bouquet of white roses someone had placed between them.
Through the rearview mirror, I could see Elena's profile—calm, composed, unreadable. Beside her, Vivian dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, her shoulders trembling with suppressed sobs.
The contrast was stark. Elena's breathing was slow and steady. Vivian's was broken, interrupted by quiet gasps.
I gripped the handle above the window, my jaw tight. I didn't know what to say. Didn't know if I should say anything.
The silence stretched.
Then Vivian's voice broke it, thick with tears. "It's just an engagement party, but they're treating it like a wedding..."
Elena silently handed her another tissue.
"Damon," Vivian's voice turned sharper, accusatory. "Damon despises you so much. How can I feel at ease letting this continue?"
I stiffened.
I turned in my seat, forcing my voice to stay level. "Mrs. Cross. I don't despise Elena."
The words felt hollow even as I said them.
I tried again. "What I said before—I was angry. I didn't mean it."
"That woman," Vivian continued, her voice rising. "What are you going to do about her?"
That woman. Scarlett.
My hands clenched into fists.
Vivian's eyes locked onto mine in the mirror, red and accusing.
The question hung in the air like a blade.
I felt Elena's gaze shift toward me. Waiting.
"It's over," I said, my voice flat.
Vivian's expression didn't change.
"I've already decided to get engaged to Elena," I added, forcing conviction into my tone. "All of that is in the past."
Liar.
The word whispered through my head, cold and certain.
Elena looked away, her face blank.
"Mom," she said calmly. "I have my own considerations for the future."
Her tone was calm. Matter-of-fact. Not bitter, not hopeful. Just... empty.
I turned back around, my jaw aching from clenching too hard.
The rest of the drive passed in suffocating silence. My eyes stayed on the road ahead, but my attention kept drifting back to the rearview mirror. To Elena.
She hadn't looked at me once since we left the house. Not even a glance.
---
When we arrived at InterContinental Hotel, staff rushed forward to open doors and guide us through the entrance.
Vivian was ushered toward the main banquet hall to oversee final preparations. Elena and I were directed to a private dressing room for "last-minute adjustments."
The door closed softly behind us.
Suddenly, the room felt too small.
Elena removed her coat, draping it over the back of a chair.
She picked up the event schedule from the vanity, studying it with the same detached focus she'd had all morning. Like reviewing a work contract.
I couldn't stop watching her.
"Why didn't you ever wear makeup before?" The question escaped before I could stop it.
She didn't look up. "Didn't want to."
The dismissal in those three words stung more than expected.
I tried to cover with something that came out wrong. "Guess it's true—no ugly women, just lazy ones."
Elena finally looked at me. Her expression was perfectly neutral, but something cold flickered in her eyes.
"As long as Scarlett stays motivated, that's all that matters." A pause.
The words landed like a slap.
My mouth opened. Closed. Nothing came out.
She turned back to the schedule, effectively ending the conversation.
I sat there, feeling like an asshole, wondering when she'd learned to do that—to cut me down with perfect calm, no anger, no hurt. Just cold, clinical precision.
My phone vibrated. Multiple times.
Scarlett.
I stared at the screen. Three missed calls.
Not now.
I hit the decline button.
Messages flooded in, the screen lighting up rapidly. I could see the preview of the first one: Answer me, Damon.
Elena glanced at my phone, then at me. "Scarlett?"
Her tone was flat. Like asking if it might rain later.
"Yeah," I muttered.
She said nothing. Went back to reading.
I opened the messages.
The photos loaded slowly, and then my entire body went cold.
Floor-to-ceiling windows. City skyline far below. Scarlett's legs dangling over the window frame, her bare feet swinging in empty air.
The caption: You're really going to marry her? Then I guess there's nothing left for me here.
"Fuck—" I shot to my feet, the phone nearly slipping from my hand.
Elena looked up, startled.
"I—I need to make a call." My voice came out strangled. "I'll be right back."
I was already halfway to the door when Elena's voice stopped me.
"Handle it quickly. We need to go over the ceremony schedule. The officiant will be here soon."
I froze, one hand on the door handle.
She wasn't angry. Wasn't upset.
"Yeah," I said hoarsely. "I'll be fast."