Chapter 39 The Performance Cracks
Elena: POV
"If I told you Victoria was faking," I said quietly, watching Julian's face, "would you believe me?"
The words hung in the air between us. Julian's expression shifted—just slightly. A flicker of irritation crossed his features.
"Elena." His voice carried that warning tone I knew too well. "Don't start this again."
"Don't start what?" My chest tightened. "Telling you the truth?"
"You're being unreasonable." He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding into his voice. "She twisted her ankle. I saw it happen. She's sitting right there, clearly in pain—"
"She's sitting there putting on a performance," I cut him off. My hands clenched at my sides. "Julian, she's playing you. Can't you see that?"
His jaw clenched. "Victoria isn't the type to fake injuries for attention."
Of course she isn't. Victoria's perfect. Victoria's noble. Victoria would never stoop to manipulation.
The bitter thought burned through my chest like acid.
"You're being paranoid," Julian continued, his tone gentler now. Like he was trying to reason with a child. "I know you two have... issues. But accusing her of faking an injury? That's beneath you."
Beneath me. Right.
I wanted to scream. Wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he saw what was right in front of his fucking face. But what was the point? He'd already made up his mind.
"Fine," I said flatly. "Believe what you want."
I turned away, staring out at the tarmac beyond the terminal windows. The autumn sun was setting, painting everything in shades of orange and gold. Beautiful. Empty.
Just like this conversation.
"Elena." Julian's hand touched my shoulder. "Don't be like this."
Don't be like what? Hurt? Angry? Tired of being the villain in every situation?
But I didn't say any of that. Just shrugged off his hand and kept my eyes fixed on the horizon.
Behind us, I heard Victoria's voice—soft, trembling, perfectly calibrated.
"Julian? Could you... could you come here for a moment?"
Of course. I thought viciously. Right on cue.
Julian hesitated for just a second. Then: "I'll be right back."
He walked away. I watched his reflection in the window, saw him kneel beside Victoria's chair. Saw her reach up to touch his face, saw him lean in close to hear whatever she was whispering.
God, I'm so tired.
Tired of fighting. Tired of being the one who was never believed. Tired of watching him run to her every single time she called.
I pressed my hand against my stomach—still flat, still hiding my secret. How much longer can I keep this up?
"Julian." Victoria's voice carried across the terminal, loud enough for me to hear this time. "I don't think I can walk. My ankle... it's really bad."
I turned around. Watched as she tried to stand, then immediately winced and sat back down, her face contorting with pain.
Jesus Christ. She's really going all in.
"Stay still," Julian said, his hands steadying her. "Don't put weight on it."
Victoria looked up at him, tears gathering in her eyes. "I'm so sorry. I don't want to be a burden. I know your parents are landing soon and—"
"You're not a burden." Julian's voice was firm. Gentle. Everything he never was with me.
Then Victoria smiled. Soft. Vulnerable. The perfect damsel in distress.
"Would you..." She paused, biting her lip. "Would you carry me? Like you used to when we were kids? Remember? When I sprained my ankle at the Hamptons and you carried me all the way back to the house?"
Oh, for fuck's sake.
I watched Julian's face. Saw the memory flicker across his features. Saw him soften.
"Victoria, I don't think—"
"Please?" She reached for his hand. "Just to that bench over there? I promise I'll be good."
Julian glanced back at me. I saw the question there—the uncertainty.
Go ahead, I wanted to say. Pick her up.
But before he could move, I was already walking toward them.
"I'll carry her," I said.
Both of them froze. Stared at me like I'd just grown a second head.
"What?" Victoria's voice was sharp. Suspicious.
"I said I'll carry her." I kept my expression neutral. Sweet. "You shouldn't strain yourself, Julian. And I know some techniques from those self-defense classes I took. Proper weight distribution and all that."
I could see Victoria's mind racing. See her trying to figure out what I was playing at.
"That's really not necessary—" she started.
"Oh, I insist." I moved closer, bending down slightly. "Come on, Victoria. Let me help."
She had no choice. Not without looking like an ungrateful bitch in front of Julian.
Slowly—reluctantly—she started to lean forward. I positioned myself, preparing to lift her. My foot shifted, angling deliberately toward where her "injured" ankle rested on the floor.
Just as I was about to "accidentally" step on it—
Victoria jerked upright. "Actually, you know what? I think it's feeling better."
She stood. Fully. No wobble. No wince.
"See?" She forced a laugh, taking a few experimental steps. "Must have just been a momentary thing. No big deal."
She walked toward the window. Perfectly fine. Not even a hint of a limp.
The silence that followed was deafening.
I straightened up, dusting off my hands. Looked at Julian.
His face was stone. Jaw clenched. Eyes fixed on Victoria's retreating figure with an expression I couldn't quite read.
Shock? Realization? Anger?
"Julian—" Victoria started, turning back.