Chapter 165
Elena's POV
Marcus stood by the window, tablet in hand, his posture radiating controlled authority. Isabella sat in the leather chair, hands folded precisely in her lap. And by the far wall, half-turned toward the glass—Damon.
My first instinct was to back out. My mind flashed to the last time they questioned me in the café. I didn't want to do this again. I didn't want to be in a room with all three of them, feeling their collective judgment press down on me like a physical weight.
Damon turned at the sound of the door. He looked terrible. Thinner than I remembered, his face drawn, shadows under his eyes that makeup couldn't hide. His voice came out rough, almost hesitant. "Elena... it's been a while."
I stayed where I was, one hand still on the doorframe. "What do you want?"
Isabella's expression tightened, but she smoothed it into something softer. Professional. "Damon wanted to speak with you. Face-to-face. We thought it would be inappropriate for him to see you alone, given the circumstances. So we're here to make sure everything stays civil."
Her gaze lingered on me, assessing. There was something in it that felt like blame, like she held me personally responsible for whatever state Damon was in now.
"Just tell me what this is about," I said flatly. "I'm not coming in."
Damon took a step forward, his movements careful, like he was approaching something fragile. "Please. Just—come inside. We can sit down, talk properly—"
"No." The word came out harder than I intended. "If you have something to say, say it now. Otherwise I'm leaving."
He stopped, his jaw working. For a moment he looked like he wanted to argue, but then his shoulders sagged. He glanced back at his parents, and I saw the frustration flicker across his face. He didn't want them here either. But Marcus hadn't given him a choice.
Damon turned back to me, his expression strained. He tried to smile. It didn't reach his eyes. "I just... I wanted to apologize. For the engagement party. For walking out. For leaving you there."
I looked at the exhaustion etched into his features, the way his hands hung uselessly at his sides. And I felt... nothing.
"Your apology doesn't mean anything," I said quietly. "I don't accept it."
His face went blank, like I'd slapped him. "Elena—"
"Is that all?" I interrupted. "Because I have things to do."
"Wait." His voice cracked. He moved closer, desperation leaking through. "You can yell at me. Hit me. Punish me however you want. I deserve it. But please—please—don't stay with Caleb. Okay? Just... don't do that."
I stared at him. "Why would I listen to you?"
"Because I'm trying to protect you." His words came faster now, almost frantic. "He's using you. To get back at me, at all of us. He doesn't actually care about you, Elena. He's doing this because he wants revenge, and you're—you're just the easiest way to hurt me."
Something cold settled in my chest. "What makes you think that?"
"Because I know him." Damon's voice turned bitter. "I know what he's capable of. You remember, don't you? When we were kids, you were always on my side. You saw what he was like."
The cold feeling spread. Yes. I remembered.
I remembered standing in the courtyard while Damon and his friends surrounded Caleb. I remembered all the terrible sounds. I remembered his face—blank, empty, like he'd learned not to react anymore.
And I remembered doing nothing.
"You're right," I said slowly. "I was on your side. I followed you. Treated him like he was nothing. I was too scared to stand up for him because I didn't want to be left out."
Damon blinked, thrown off. "What—"
"I've regretted it every single day since." My voice stayed level, but something was breaking loose inside me. "I owe him an apology I can never fully give. And if he's getting revenge on me? Then maybe I deserve it."
"Elena—"
"But you—why did you do it?" The question came out sharp, cutting through whatever he was building. "He never hurt you. He never did anything to you. So why did you make his life hell? At home, at school—he couldn't get away from you."
Damon's mouth opened, but no sound came out.
"You made him feel like he didn't belong anywhere," I continued, my voice rising despite myself. "You could have ignored him. You didn't have to do this. You just needed to leave him alone. But you couldn't, could you? You had to make sure he knew how much you hated him. Why?"
"What was I supposed to do?" he shot back, finally finding words. "Welcome him with open arms? He was an intruder—"
"That's not his fault!" The words burst out of me, hot and angry. "You should be asking your father that."
Marcus's jaw tightened.
"You could have left him alone. But you went out of your way to make him suffer," I continued.
"This is insane." Damon's voice turned harsh. "You're upset about this now."
"Because it matters!" I was shaking now, all the things I'd never said spilling out. "It matters that you hurt him. It matters that you enjoyed it."
"He disrupted everything!" Damon's control was slipping too. "My parents fought constantly after he showed up. There was this stranger in my house, and everyone expected me to just accept it. I didn't want him there. I had every right to—"
"To what?" I cut him off. "To punish him for existing? You're right, Damon. You're absolutely right. You're the heir, the perfect son. Nobody's allowed to make you uncomfortable. And if they do? They deserve whatever you do to them."
The sarcasm in my voice made him flinch.
"I can't believe I used to think like you," I said quietly. Bitterly. "I can't believe I let myself be that person."
Silence fell between us. Damon stared at me like he didn't recognize me anymore.
"I used to think..." My voice came out softer now, almost to myself. "I really thought I could marry you someday."
He went completely still. His eyes widened, something flickering in them—hope, maybe, or shock. "You... what?"
"I thought I loved you," I continued. "I thought we'd end up together, like everyone always said we would. But I was so stupid. I only saw how you treated me. I ignored everything else. I ignored what you did to him. I told myself it didn't matter."
"Elena—"
"But it does matter." I met his eyes. "The person I love should at least be kind. At the bare minimum. And you're not. You're selfish. You only think about yourself. You only care about what you want."
His face had gone pale.
"Caleb is the most important person in my life now," I said, each word deliberate. "And considering what you've done to him? I'm showing incredible restraint by not slapping you right now. I never want to see you again."
I turned toward the door.
"Wait." His voice was strangled. "Elena, wait—did you just say you used to... you used to like me? Is that true?"
I stopped, my hand on the doorknob. Slowly, I looked back at him.
"Yes," I said. "I used to like you. But I was wrong. You don't deserve it."