Chapter 178
Calebs' POV
Earlier today, I was still attending a meeting.
After the meeting ended, I thought I could head straight back to the manor, but Marcus stopped me in the hallway.
"Although I've accepted the result of your engagement with Elena..." he said, his tone carrying a weariness I rarely heard from him. "Your grandfather hasn't fully accepted it yet. He's still lying in his hospital bed."
I leaned against the wall, hands in my pockets, waiting for him to finish.
"I hope you can bring Elena to visit him," Marcus continued. "Let Randy see the reality of you two together. Maybe it will help him accept."
Accept. The word echoed in my mind. There were too many things Randy needed to accept—accept that I wasn't the "stain" he saw me as, accept that Elena chose me, accept all the mistakes he'd made.
I was silent for a moment. Part of me wanted to refuse, wanted to tell Marcus I didn't owe that old man anything. But another part—the part that still remembered being a child in that tower, desperate to be seen—knew this was something I had to face.
For Elena, I was willing to try.
"Alright," I finally said.
Marcus nodded and turned to leave. I stood there, staring at his retreating back, wondering when all of this would truly be over.
---
That evening when I returned to the manor, Elena was curled up on the sofa reading. She looked up, her face breaking into a smile—the kind of smile that still made my chest tighten.
"How did it go?" she asked, setting down her book.
I sat beside her and she immediately leaned into me, her head resting on my shoulder.
"Marcus wants us to visit Randy," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "He hasn't... accepted our situation yet."
Elena lifted her head to look at me. "Do you want to go?"
That was so like her—always asking about my feelings first.
"I don't know," I said honestly. "But I think I should."
She nodded. "Then I'll go with you."
"You don't have to—"
"I want to," she interrupted, her voice firm. "When I was little, Randy was kind to me. He always gave me candy at family gatherings." She paused. "I know he did terrible things to you. But maybe now, we can let him see who you really are."
My throat tightened.
"Okay," I said quietly, kissing her forehead.
---
The next morning, we arrived at the hospital with some soup jar.
When we walked into the room, I felt Elena's fingers tighten around my palm. I squeezed back, trying to convey reassurance.
When Randy saw me, his eyes widened for a moment, shifting from surprise to calm, as if accepting reality.
"Elena," he said, his voice hoarse but gentle.
"Grandfather Randy," Elena responded warmly, releasing my hand to approach the bedside.
His gaze shifted back to me.
---
Randy's POV
The memories came unbidden, sharp as broken glass.
I remembered the night Marcus brought Caleb home. Five years old, already tall for his age, eyes shifting between human brown and something else—something that made me uncomfortable.
Caleb's mother was human, a mistake Marcus made while drunk. When the woman sensed we were unusual, she chose to leave. She left Caleb on our doorstep with a note: He's yours. I can't raise him in your world.
Isabella's reaction was immediate and vicious. "That thing is not staying under my roof."
"He's Marcus's son," I said, but even then, my voice lacked conviction.
"He's a half-breed. Look at him—he doesn't even smell right."
She was right about that. The boy's scent was different from other wolf pups, carrying an undertone I couldn't identify. Wild. Ancient. It unsettled me in ways I didn't want to examine.
When Caleb had his first shift at ten—years earlier than normal—and nearly killed Damon in a rage, I made my choice. Lock him up. Control him. Keep him from threatening the natural order. Better a caged wolf than a dead heir.
I told myself it was for the family. For the pack. For everyone's safety.
But watching him now, standing tall and unbroken despite everything we'd done, I knew the truth: I'd been afraid. Afraid of what he represented, afraid of my own misjudgment, afraid of admitting my own son had fathered something more powerful than my carefully cultivated bloodline.
This boy had survived silver burns that would break a wolf. He'd endured isolation that drove others mad. And he'd done it all without begging, without breaking.
He was more Vance than any of us.
I watched him now, standing in the hospital room, his suit perfectly tailored, his posture like he was born to stand at the center of power. And that girl—Elena—stood beside him, her hand in his, her eyes full of something I'd never seen when she looked at Damon.
Not duty. Not compliance.
Choice.
---
Elena's POV
I saw the complex emotions in Randy's eyes: surprise, guilt, and perhaps a trace of... regret?
Randy's gaze moved between us, observing how naturally I stood beside Caleb, observing the understanding between us.
The atmosphere in the room was delicate and tense. I could feel him reassessing—reassessing Caleb, reassessing our relationship, reassessing all his past choices.
The silence stretched too long. Just as I was about to break it, Caleb spoke.
"Grandfather," his voice was steady and controlled. "I'm sorry that Elena and I made our own decision at the engagement ceremony without consulting you first."
I turned to him in surprise, but his gaze remained on Randy.
I immediately interjected: "It was my idea, Grandfather Randy. Caleb only—"
"Elena." Caleb gently interrupted me, giving me a reassuring look. Then he looked at Randy. "The responsibility is mine."
Randy looked at Caleb silently. I saw something shift in his eyes. Perhaps he hadn't expected Caleb to apologize, hadn't expected him to take responsibility, hadn't expected this child who had been imprisoned and abused to show such maturity.
Surprise flashed in Randy's eyes, followed by something deeper.
The atmosphere eased slightly, but tension still lingered in the air.
After a while, Randy cleared his throat.
"Caleb," he said, "step out for a moment. I'd like to speak with Elena alone."
I felt Caleb stiffen behind me. I turned to look at him, his expression complex—worried, uneasy, but also trusting.
"I'll be okay," I said softly to him.
His jaw tightened, but he eventually nodded. "I'll be right outside."
He left the room.