Chapter 109
Elena's POV
I sat rigid on the edge of the couch, hands clenched in my lap, staring at the coffee table like it held answers. If I looked at him, if I let myself see the concentration on his face or the gentleness in his touch, I'd break.
"You'll catch cold if you sleep with wet hair," he said quietly.
I didn't respond. Couldn't.
After a moment, he set the towel aside and reached for something on the table. A tablet lit up in his hands.
"I want to show you something."
My gaze flicked to the screen despite myself. Documents with terms like "AI patent portfolio," "cryptocurrency assets," "equity holdings."
"This is what I have," Caleb said, his voice matter-of-fact. "Total assets just over fifty million USD."
My breath caught.
"I'll take on all of your father's debts. Let your mother leave Donald," he continued.
I stared at him. "You can't—that's—"
"It's decided." His tone left no room for argument. "The debt is mine to handle. You won't go without. I'll make sure of it."
"Why?" The word came out strangled. "Why would you do this?"
He set the tablet down and turned to face me fully. "Right now, with how things stand, your father won't accept my help directly. He's too proud, too desperate to maintain control. The best option is to get Vivian out first. Once she's safe, we can handle the rest."
"Caleb, fifty million—"
"Isn't that important to me." His eyes held mine. "Not compared to getting you both away from him."
The weight of it pressed down on my chest. This wasn't a small gesture or a temporary fix. This was him offering to shoulder my family's disaster, to pay a price that would take most people lifetimes to earn, and he said it like he was discussing dinner plans.
I bit my lip hard, trying to process, trying to understand what he wanted in return. There had to be something. People didn't just—
His thumb pressed against my lower lip, gentle but firm. "Don't."
I froze. His hand stayed there, thumb slowly tracing the tender spot I'd been worrying between my teeth.
"Your lip's already red," he murmured.
I should have pulled back. Should have put distance between us. But I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything except feel the warmth of his touch and the way my pulse hammered against my ribs.
"Listen to me." His voice dropped lower. "Your problems are my problems now. If money solves this, we're lucky."
But what do you want from me?
The question burned in my throat, unspoken.
"I can tell from your scent that you're torn. Scared. Your mother's situation has you second-guessing everything." He leaned forward slightly, close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in his eyes. "So I'm taking the decision out of your hands. I'm solving the problem. At least then you won't have to stay with Damon out of guilt."
"I'm not—I don't—"
He moved before I could finish, leaning in to press a soft kiss to my forehead.
I went utterly still. The touch was so gentle, so careful.
When he pulled back, I looked up at him.
"You heard me, didn't you?" His voice was quiet. "Earlier. Talking to Hector."
I couldn't lie. Not with him looking at me like that.
"Yes."
He nodded once, unsurprised. "Then you know I didn't come back to Saint-Helier to play happy family. I'm working inside Vance Industries because I have my own reasons. My own plans. I don't intend to work for Marcus forever."
The way he said "Marcus"—not "my father," just the name.
"But I want you to know something else." He reached out, fingertips brushing my jaw. "I want you to choose me, Elena. Whatever the Vance family can offer you, I can offer the same. You don't have to go back and play the obedient fiancée to keep your family afloat."
My mind spun. I knew his plans now. Knew he was positioning himself against the family that had tormented him for years. By all logic, I should warn them. Tell Randy what Caleb was doing. Protect the alliance my family desperately needed.
But the thought of betraying him—of being the one to expose him, to hurt him again—made something inside me recoil violently. Like my insides were being torn apart.
If I didn't go back to Damon, I'd violate the blood pact. Enrage the Vance family. Watch my own family crumble into nothing.
If I did go back, I'd lose Caleb.
"I..." My voice cracked. "I don't know. I haven't decided. I can't—"
"It's late." He stood smoothly. "You should rest. We can talk more tomorrow."
He left me there on the couch, and I listened to his footsteps fade down the hall.
---
Hours later, I was still awake.
I'd moved to the guest room bed, but sleep was impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard his words again.
I wanted to believe him. Wanted to trust that the gentleness in his touch and the warmth in his voice were real. But another voice whispered poison in my ear: What if this is strategy? What if he's keeping you close to make sure you don't talk? What if the money, the kindness, the way he makes your heart race—what if it's all carefully calculated?
That kiss on my forehead. Was it a promise? Or bait?
I pressed my palms against my eyes until I saw stars.
The worst part was knowing why I was so afraid. If I hadn't hurt him—if I hadn't stood silent while others tormented him, hadn't participated in the bullying, hadn't run from him again and again—then I wouldn't need to fear his revenge.
At 1 AM, I gave up and grabbed my phone.
Elena: Hypothetically... if someone bullied a person really badly when they were kids, and now they feel awful about it and want to make amends... is there any chance that person would actually forgive them?
Lila's response came within seconds.
Lila: Are you seriously asking me this
Lila: Stop picking friends out of the garbage, Elena. I'm begging you
Lila: Forgive them?? Are you KIDDING? Childhood bullying causes lifelong psychological damage. That kind of trauma doesn't just go away
Lila: People who do that shit don't magically become good people when they grow up
Lila: Your "friend" should stay THE HELL away from whoever they hurt. Stop making it worse. Don't go back and reopen those wounds just to make yourself feel better
I stared at the screen until the words blurred.
I set the phone face-down on the nightstand.
Lila's words echoed in my skull. Stop picking friends out of the garbage.
That's what I was, wasn't it? The garbage friend. The one who'd stood there and done nothing. The one who'd helped sometimes, sure, but always in secret. Always ashamed. Never brave enough to stand with him when it mattered.
My "kindness" had been cowardice dressed up as compassion.
I pulled my knees to my chest and let my forehead rest against them.
You don't deserve him.