Chapter 131
Elena's POV
I sat in the back seat pressed close to Mom, her trembling hand clutched in mine, both of us staring straight ahead as if afraid to believe we'd actually escaped.
"Where to?" Hector asked from the driver's seat, glancing at Caleb in the passenger side.
Caleb gave an address without hesitation.
Hector's head whipped around. "You bought a place?!" His foot slammed the brake, the car lurching.
"Half a month ago." Caleb's voice was flat, almost bored. "Told you you'd make a scene."
Half a month ago?
That was right after I'd fled home and stayed at his place. He'd mentioned wanting a new home then—just him and me. I'd thought it was only a suggestion. I never imagined he'd already taken action.
"It was meant for... later. A wedding home. But for now, you and your mother can stay there."
Mom's grip tightened. I could feel the unspoken questions in her silence.
"How is the house already prepared? Was all this premeditated?" Mom couldn't help but ask.
"I don't know. Today, it was only because Damon suddenly ran that I would..."
"If Damon hadn't bailed," Hector said with sardonic edge, "he'd be the one sitting up front right now, wouldn't he?"
"Hector!" Caleb's voice came sharp.
I felt Caleb's shoulders lock tight.
My stomach twisted. I knew what Hector was doing—prodding the wound to see if it would bleed. And it was bleeding. I could tell from Caleb's clenched jaw.
He thought I would have gone through with it. If Damon had shown up, I would have married him.
I wanted to say something. Wanted to reach forward and touch his shoulder, make him understand that from the moment I saw him on that rooftop, nothing else mattered anymore. But my throat was too tight, the words wouldn't come.
The car fell into silence, only the sound of tires on asphalt.
---
The building was in a new development—glass and steel, the kind of upscale modern complex. Hector pulled into the underground garage and we took the elevator up.
Soon we arrived at the penthouse apartment.
It was massive. Easily over three thousand square feet, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the entire city, all hard lines and monochromatic elegance. Gray stone floors, white walls, black leather furniture arranged with mathematical precision. No warmth. No personality.
Just space.
"It's so... big." Mom said softly, stepping inside as if afraid to disturb something. "And a bit empty."
"We can hire a designer," Caleb said from the doorway, hands in his pockets. "Whatever style you prefer. Just tell me."
I tugged gently on Mom's sleeve. "Having a place at all is already wonderful."
She looked at me, her eyes saying everything she couldn't speak aloud—hours ago I'd been the center of a three-hundred-guest engagement party, now I was a refugee in a stranger's apartment.
Mom's phone rang.
She slowly pulled out her phone and looked at the screen. Her face went pale as she walked toward the balcony.
I followed her onto the balcony, watching her silhouette—shoulders rigid. Even from a distance, I could see her lips moving, her head shaking slightly.
"Your father fainted." Mom hung up and turned to look at me, her voice frighteningly flat, phone still gripped tight. "They took him to the hospital."
I waited for her to continue. Waited for her to show some concern, even panic. Instead, she just looked at me, her eyes cold and distant.
"They want me to come."
"Mom—"
"I refused." She cut me off. She set down the phone. "I won't go back. Don't worry."
"The trouble is," she continued, "if something really happens to him, the debt situation will become even more complicated."
Mom stayed on the balcony, not to make calls, just staring at the city. I returned to the living room and sat on the sofa, hands twisting together in my lap.
He collapsed.
I should feel something. Maybe worry. Fear. But I only felt numb.
Then, unbidden, Caleb's words surfaced in my mind.
Your family's debt—I'll handle it.
He'd said that. I remembered the certainty in his voice, the way he looked at me like everything was already decided.
I glanced toward where he and Hector stood by the door. He was speaking quietly, his expression unreadable.
A heavy weight settled in my chest.
If I asked now—if I accepted his offer—what would that mean?
I dug my nails into my palms, the sting sharp.
It would mean I was using him. That I came to him not because I wanted him, but because I needed what he could give me. Money. Security. A way out.
It would make me everything everyone already thought I was—a girl who bounced between brothers, grabbing whoever could save her.
Even if it wasn't true, even if I told myself it wasn't, would he believe me?
I couldn't ask. I wouldn't ask.
Not when I didn't even know what we were to each other yet.
---
Caleb picked up his coat from where it was draped over the chair.
"I should go," he said quietly.
I stood too quickly, nearly stumbling. "Already?"
He glanced at me, expression unreadable. "You need to settle in."
Right. Of course.
He reached into his wallet and pulled out a sleek black card, setting it on the coffee table. The metal gleamed under the lights.
"PIN is your birthday," he said, tone flat, like he was discussing a work assignment. "Use it for whatever you need. Don't worry about the amount."
I stared at the card.
Words lodged in my throat. "I can't—"
"Elena."
I looked up at him. His jaw was tight, his eyes tired.
"You're staying here," he said calmly. "That means you're my responsibility. Just take it."
"But I—"
"Why not?"
Mom's voice cut across the room. She'd returned without me noticing, and now she crossed the floor in a few strides, picked up the card, and tucked it into her own purse.
"Mom!"
She looked at me, expression inscrutable. "He's offering. We need it. Don't be foolish."
I felt my face heating. "But—"
She turned to Caleb, her gaze sharp and assessing. "Thank you. I won't forget this."
He nodded once, his face revealing nothing. "If you need anything else, let me know."
The way he said it wasn't grudging. Not resentful. Just... steady.
Mom's eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to see through him. Testing him.
"I will," she said coolly. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, "You're generous."
It didn't sound quite like a compliment. More like a question she hadn't asked aloud.
Caleb didn't flinch. "It's not generosity," he said quietly. "It's necessity."
Mom stared at him for another long moment. Then she gave a small nod, accepting the answer, and turned back toward the balcony.
"I'll see you out," I blurted.
I slipped on my house shoes and hurried after him.