Chapter 129
Caleb's POV
The slap came so fast I barely had time to register the movement.
Marcus's palm cracked across my face with enough force to snap my head sideways. The sting bloomed hot across my cheekbone, sharp and clarifying. I tasted copper on my tongue where I'd bitten the inside of my mouth.
I straightened slowly, deliberately, and met his eyes.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?" His voice was low, dangerous in a way I recognized from childhood. The kind of controlled fury that often preceded punishment.
I was past caring.
"I wouldn't have done it if I didn't know," I said evenly.
His jaw worked. For a moment I thought he might strike again. Part of me almost wanted him to—it would make this easier. Cleaner.
"You stood up there in front of three hundred witnesses and turned this family into a mockery." He was pacing now, each step precise and cutting. "The wedding was for Damon. Not you."
"Damon left," I said flatly. "Left her standing there alone while everyone whispered about how the Vance heir couldn't be bothered to show up for his own engagement?"
"So you decided to play hero?" The words dripped with contempt. "You think you're saving her? All you've done is put even more pressure on Elena."
"Do you have any idea what people out there are going to say?" Marcus's voice dropped lower, but became more lethal. "They'll say the Vance family is fighting amongst itself. They'll say we can't even control our own wedding. They'll say—"
"They'll say Elena will bear the gossip." I cut him off, taking the offensive. "I know what the outside world will say about her. But I won't abandon her the way Damon did. No matter what they say, I'll be by her side."
Marcus stared at me, as if truly seeing me for the first time.
"All these years," my voice was low, but every word was clear and forceful, "no matter how they treated me, I never asked you for anything. But this time..."
I paused, letting the weight of the words sink in.
"I won't back down."
Those last four words came out deep and firm, carrying an unwavering resolve I'd never shown before.
Marcus's face went from flushed to ashen, then pale.
"Get out."
His voice was soft, almost inaudible. But the fury and shock contained within it carried more power than any shouting could.
I turned and left, my steps without the slightest hesitation.
As the door closed behind me, I heard something crash against the wall—probably one of the ornaments from his desk.
But I didn't look back.
---
Ten minutes later, Hector found me.
"Jesus." He stopped in the doorway, staring. "What happened to your face?"
I touched my cheek absently. The swelling had gone down a bit, but the bruise was still clearly visible on my skin.
"Apparently I deserved it," I said dryly.
"Marcus?"
I nodded.
"That son of a—" He bit off the rest of the curse. "You can't just let him—"
"It's done," I interrupted. "It doesn't matter."
Hector sighed and crossed his arms.
"So what now?" he asked. "You just married Elena in front of the entire pack hierarchy. Marcus is furious, Isabella's probably losing her mind."
"The real trouble is yet to come."
Hector was quiet for a few seconds, then couldn't help voicing his confusion.
"There are plenty of other women in the world. Why Elena, why Damon's fiancée..."
His words hung in mid-air as I turned to look at him.
"Because it's her." Those four words were all I said.
He opened his mouth, but ultimately said nothing, just sighed and pulled open the car door.
"Get in. Where do you want to go?"
"Cross Manor."
"What?" Hector's voice immediately jumped an octave. "That's their family business! You going there now will only add fuel to the fire!"
"I'm her fiancé now." My voice was calm but brooked no argument. "Her father won't let this go."
Hector stared at me for a few seconds, then shook his head in a gesture of surrender.
"You're really crazy."
"I know."
"And you're going to keep being crazy."
"Yes."
Hector started the engine with a bitter smile.
---
Elena's POV
The car ride home was silent.
Not the comfortable kind of silence—the kind that settles between people who understand each other without words.
My father gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles had gone white. My mother sat rigid in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead, her face carefully blank.
I sat in the back, still wearing the dress they'd chosen for me.
The engagement ring—Damon's ring, with his initial still etched inside—felt like a brand on my finger.
No. Not Damon's ring anymore.
Caleb's.
The thought sent a confusing rush of emotions through me.
"Elena."
My father's voice was low. Controlled. The kind of controlled that came right before an explosion.
I didn't answer.
"Elena, look at me."
Slowly, I lifted my eyes to meet his in the rearview mirror.
His face was a mask of barely contained fury.
"Do you know what you've done?"
"I do," I said quietly.
"Do you?" He turned slightly in his seat, enough that I could see the muscle jumping in his jaw. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you just destroyed everything we've worked for."
"Donald—" my mother started, her voice thin.
"Don't." He didn't even look at her. "Don't defend her."
Finally, the car pulled into our villa district. In the distance, I saw a black sedan parked by our gate.
My heartbeat suddenly accelerated.
As the headlights illuminated it, I saw Caleb step out of the driver's seat, accompanied by Hector.
He came.
My father's grip on the steering wheel tightened further, his face growing even darker. He was the first to get out, his movements abrupt and angry.
I took a deep breath and pushed open the car door.
Cold wind immediately hit my face.
Caleb stood there, his gaze locked directly on me. Even in the dim light, I could clearly see the bruise on his face.
Marcus had hit him.
The realization pierced my heart like a knife.
"What are you doing here?" My father's challenge broke the silence. He stood between Caleb and me, like a barrier.
Caleb's gaze shifted from me to my father. His expression was calm and composed, showing no sign of what he'd just been through.
"I'm here to pick up my fiancée."