Chapter 85
Elena's POV
At 10 AM, I heard the cars pull up.
I was sitting on my bed, dressed in the pale blue cashmere sweater my mother had laid out for me. My hair was brushed smooth. My face was carefully blank. I looked like the perfect future daughter-in-law.
I felt like I was walking to my own execution.
"Elena." Vivian's voice came from the doorway, soft but firm. "They're here."
I followed her downstairs. My legs felt like they belonged to someone else.
Marcus was already seated in the living room, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. Isabella sat beside him, perfectly composed, her hands folded in her lap. And Damon—
Damon was slouched in the armchair by the window, staring at his phone. He didn't look up when I entered.
"Elena." Marcus's voice was warm, but there was steel underneath. "Come, sit."
I sat. Vivian settled beside me, her hand briefly squeezing mine before she let go.
Marcus wasted no time. "We've discussed this at length with Randy, and we believe it's time to move forward. The engagement ceremony will take place in two weeks. The bonding ritual at Moonlight Pool will follow in July."
My father leaned forward eagerly. "We trust Damon completely. This union will be good for both families."
Good for both families. Not good for me. Not good for Damon, who was still staring at his phone like he wished he were anywhere else.
And then Damon's hand went up.
"I object."
The room went silent.
Marcus's head snapped toward his son. "Excuse me?"
"I said I object." Damon finally looked up, his gaze landing on me. There was something cold in his eyes. Something bitter. "She doesn't want this any more than I do. So why are we pretending?"
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Isabella's face went white. "Damon, what are you—"
"She's got all kinds of ideas in her head," Damon continued, his voice sharp. "She's not the obedient girl you think she is. She's been lying to all of you."
I felt every pair of eyes in the room turn toward me.
"Don't act innocent in front of my parents," Damon said, his tone cutting. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. So why don't you tell them? What do you actually want, Elena?"
My throat closed. I couldn't breathe.
"Damon," Marcus said sharply. "That's enough."
"I—" My voice cracked. I swallowed hard and tried again. "Damon and I aren't... compatible. You can see that. We've been fighting constantly. How are we supposed to build a life together when we can barely stand to be in the same room?"
"That's normal," Donald cut in smoothly, too smoothly. "Young couples argue. It's part of growing together."
Isabella nodded quickly. "Elena. Every relationship has rough patches. You just need time to adjust."
Adjust. Like I was a piece of furniture that needed to be sanded down and polished until I fit.
Marcus leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled. "Damon mentioned something interesting yesterday." His voice was calm. Too calm. "He said you came back home in Caleb's car."
The bottom dropped out of my stomach.
"Is that true?" Marcus asked.
I couldn't speak. Couldn't move. I felt like I was drowning in front of all of them, and no one was reaching out to pull me up.
Marcus continued, his tone still perfectly even. "His position in this family is... complicated. It wouldn't look good if people started to speculate about your relationship with him. For either family."
Speculate. Such a polite word for what he really meant. Scandal. Disgrace. Ruin.
Isabella's voice was soft when she spoke. Almost kind. "Elena, sweetheart. You were just borrowing a ride from Caleb because Damon wasn't available, weren't you? There's nothing more to it than that, is there?"
All eyes focused on me. Their gazes felt tangible, crushing the air from my lungs. I remembered that dinner. It had been like this then too.
I was being judged like a criminal.
The difference was, last time it was because I'd lied. This time, it was simply because I'd gotten into Caleb's car.
What would happen if I admitted my intimate relationship with Caleb?
The silence stretched. Every eye in the room bore into me like a physical weight, crushing the air from my lungs.
Donald cleared his throat, his voice too loud in the stillness. "Marcus, I can assure you—Elena and Caleb have had no meaningful interaction. She barely knows him."
I felt my hands curl into fists in my lap, nails biting into my palms. Barely knows him.
Marcus's gaze didn't waver from me. "Is that true, Elena?"
My throat closed. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. I wanted to say I know him better than any of you ever will. But the words stuck like shards of glass.
"She's a good girl," Isabella added smoothly. "She wouldn't jeopardize two families over a misunderstanding."
Misunderstanding. They'd already decided what the truth was.
I managed a jerky nod. Donald exhaled, audible relief flooding his features.
Marcus finally leaned back, satisfied. "Good. Then let's discuss the arrangements."
He set his teacup down with a soft clink. The sound felt like a gavel.
"Elena and Damon will hold an engagement ceremony in two weeks," Marcus said, his tone crisp and businesslike. "The bonding ritual will take place in July, during the full moon, at Moonlight Pool."
My stomach turned over. Moonlight Pool. The sacred ground where wolves completed their marks. Where the bite would become permanent.
"We need to control the narrative," Marcus continued. "No whispers about Damon's entanglements with anyone outside the family. Especially not that rogue."
Scarlett. He didn't even say her name.
"And Elena," Isabella said gently, her eyes on me like I was a child who needed careful handling, "you understand you'll need to distance yourself from Caleb entirely. No contact. It's for the best."
For the best. My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached.
"Vance Industries will provide financial support to Cross Enterprises," Marcus said, turning to my father. "Enough to stabilize operations and restore your standing in the pack hierarchy."
Donald's face lit up. "That's extremely generous—"
"In exchange," Marcus cut in, "Elena fulfills her role as Damon's Luna. No complications. No scandals."
It hit me then, cold and sharp as a blade between my ribs.
This wasn't about me. It wasn't about Damon. It wasn't even about love or mates or any of the things I'd grown up believing mattered.
This was a business transaction.