Chapter 78
Elena's POV
The car ride home felt endless.
Father drove in silence. I pressed myself against the passenger window, watching my reflection blur against the glass—a ghost of a girl who'd just been publicly rejected by the man who was supposed to marry her.
Twenty-two years of friendship, I thought, my breath fogging the cold window. Why did he have to humiliate me like that in front of everyone?
Maybe it was revenge. Maybe he was punishing me for telling Father about Scarlett.
Despite the car's heater running full blast, my hands were ice-cold. The chill seemed to seep into my bones—that familiar, bone-deep cold that never quite left me.
---
We'd barely stepped through the front door when Father grabbed Mother's arm, steering her toward his study. Their voices immediately rose in heated argument.
"Why didn't you help facilitate the engagement instead of saying those things!" Father's voice echoed through the house.
Mother's laugh was bitter, cutting. "Are you completely insane? Did you not see Damon reject her in front of everyone? You want to sell our daughter to someone who can't even pretend to want her?"
I stood frozen in the foyer, their words buzzing in my ears like angry wasps.
Without a word, I climbed the stairs to my room and closed the door. The house felt too small, too suffocating. I didn't come down for the rest of the afternoon.
---
I woke to darkness, my head pounding like someone had filled it with lead. Every muscle in my body ached—a bone-deep exhaustion that felt like I was coming down with something.
The cold medicine, I remembered. I'd forgotten to take it this morning. But the thought of getting up, of searching through my bag for the pills Caleb had given me, felt overwhelming.
Outside my window, the sky had turned that particular shade of winter gray that meant more snow was coming. My room felt like a cave, lit only by the weak glow of my bedside lamp.
I pulled my blanket tighter and stared at the ceiling, letting the familiar numbness wash over me.
---
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts. Mother entered carrying a dinner tray, her expression shifting when she saw me curled up in bed.
"Oh, sweetheart." She set the tray down and immediately pressed her palm to my forehead. "You have a low fever!"
"I'm fine," I mumbled, though my voice came out hoarse and weak.
"You are not fine." She disappeared into the hallway, returning with fever medicine and a glass of water. "Here, take these."
I sat up slowly, accepting the pills. Mother perched on the edge of my bed.
"Damon was... out of line today," she said quietly. "Don't take what he said to heart."
"I know, Mom."
She studied my face in the lamplight, her expression softening. "I didn't expect him to react like that. To be so... cruel."
The medicine made me drowsy, but Mother didn't leave. She sat there in the dim light, and for the first time I felt like opening up.
"Mom," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "When I told you about Scarlett... I was trying to make Dad give up on the contract."
She turned to look at me, waiting.
"I thought if he knew Damon had a girlfriend, he'd stop pushing for the marriage." I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of my miscalculation. "But I ended up making things worse."
Mother found my hand under the blanket.
"If we actually go through with this marriage..." I opened my eyes, meeting her gaze. "I can see exactly how it'll be. He'll resent me."
The words hung between us in the quiet room.
"Mom," I whispered, turning to face her. "Dad was right. It would have been better if I'd never been born."
Mother went completely still. I watched the color drain from her face as my words sank in.
---
Seven years old. The memory hit me like a physical blow.
I'd been hiding at the top of the stairs, listening to my parents fight about the baby—the brother I'd never met. Mother had been pregnant with twins, but something went wrong. Only I survived.
They blamed each other for what happened.
That night I'd crept back to my room and taught myself to walk quietly, to speak softly, to never ask for too much. I thought if I could just be good enough, small enough, maybe they would love me.
---
Mother's voice pulled me back to the present. "Elena... people's lives, their destinies—it's hard to truly control them."
Her words were careful, measured. "Sometimes we think we can choose, but we're already trapped. Dwelling on the past... there's no point in it."
I heard what she wasn't saying. She couldn't comfort me, not really. There would always be that shadow between us—the child who didn't survive, the son they'd wanted instead.
"The marriage..." She stood up slowly. "That's your choice to make."
She paused at the door. "But you know your father's situation..."
She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to.
As she prepared to leave, I stared at the ceiling. The fever made everything feel distant and unreal, but one thought cut through the haze with crystal clarity.
"Mom," I called out, my voice stronger than it had been all evening. "Could I... could I study abroad?"
She stopped in the doorway.
When she turned around, her face was tired in a way that had nothing to do with the late hour.
"Elena, do you understand what our family's situation really is?"
I waited.
"The manor is mortgaged to the bank. Your father put everything into his projects, and none of them have paid off yet." Her voice was flat, matter-of-fact. "We're completely underwater financially. If we can't pay by the end of the year, the bank will take the house."
The words hit me like ice water.
"But that's not even the worst part." Her voice started to shake. "You know... he's losing his ability to shift. Once he can't maintain his wolf form anymore, we'll lose everything."
She took a shuddering breath. "We'll become Rogues, Elena. No protection, no territory. Anyone could hunt us."
The room seemed to spin around me.
"Your father needs you to marry Damon because as long as we're connected to the Vance family, the bank will extend our loans. Other packs won't dare touch us."
---
After Mother left, I lay alone in the darkness. Despite the low fever making me uncomfortable, my mind was racing.
Just agree to it, part of me whispered. Pay back what you owe them for raising you. If you don't compromise, they'll lose everything.
But another voice screamed in protest: No! I won't do it!
Images flashed through my mind—Caleb's hands warming mine, the way he'd looked at me when I was sick, how he'd promised his door would always be open.
No one has ever protected me like that.
I miss him. God, I miss him so much.