Chapter 136
Damon's POV
The floor-to-ceiling window reflected my face back at me—jaw tight, eyes bloodshot. My phone lay near the wall where I'd thrown it five minutes ago. The screen had splintered into a spiderweb of cracks, just like everything else in my life.
She hung up. Again and again.
"Why the fuck won't she answer?" I muttered through clenched teeth. "What right does she have to ignore me?"
I stared at the shattered screen still flashing with those news alerts, rage building steadily.
My thoughts dragged back to yesterday.
Last Night
Scarlett had been trembling in the hotel suite, her mascara smeared down her cheeks. She'd gripped my hand tight.
"Your father's going to hate me," she whispered for the fifth time. "He'll have Enforcement come for me. Maybe worse."
"I won't let that happen." I'd tried to sound confident. Tried to believe my own words.
"Do you mean it?" Her eyes were wide, desperate. "You won't regret leaving her?"
Her.
Elena.
I'd sent the apology text. Short. Clinical. Sorry for leaving. We'll figure things out when I get back.
She hadn't replied. Not once.
"Promise me you won't change your mind," she'd begged. "Promise you won't go back to her."
I'd said the words. Made the promise.
But I'd felt hollow saying them.
---
This Morning
Scarlett emerged from the bedroom wearing the hotel robe, her hair still damp. "We should leave the country," she said, trying for casual but landing on frantic. "Together. Start over somewhere no one knows us."
I looked up from my laptop. "I don't have a visa ready."
"There are places that don't need visas." She sat on the armrest of my chair, too close. "We could go somewhere warm. Wait for things to calm down, then—"
"Scarlett." My voice came out harsher than intended. "I can't just disappear."
Her face fell. "Why not? You already left the wedding. What's the difference?"
Because leaving for a weekend isn't the same as abandoning everything forever, I wanted to say. But I couldn't. I didn't want to see that look in her eyes—the one that said I was failing her.
"Let me handle this," I said instead. Weak. Cowardly.
She bit her lip but nodded.
I could feel her testing me. Measuring whether I'd really chosen her, or if I'd already started to regret it.
I grabbed my phone and opened the browser, scrolling through recent news.
The Saint-Helier forums were already hundreds of comments deep. Photos. Videos. Eyewitness accounts.
> BREAKING: Vance Family Scandal—Caleb Vance Claims Cross Heiress at Public Engagement
My stomach dropped.
I clicked on the first video. The footage was shaky, shot from somewhere in the middle rows, but the stage was perfectly visible.
Elena in that gown. Standing on stage.
And Caleb. Beside her in a black suit, holding her hand.
Then he kissed her.
Not the chaste, obligatory peck you'd expect at a rehearsed ceremony. This was deep. Possessive. Her hands gripped his jacket, and when they pulled apart, her expression wasn't shock or resistance.
My hands started shaking.
I scrolled down to the comments.
> "Holy shit, Damon got played by his own brother."
> "Elena looks like she actually wanted this. Did you see how she grabbed him?"
> "I bet Caleb's been waiting for this moment his whole life."
I hurled my phone at the wall. The screen cracked.
---
"Damon?" Scarlett's voice came from the bedroom doorway. She'd heard the noise. "What's wrong?"
I couldn't answer. My vision blurred red at the edges. Blood pounded in my temples.
Scarlett crossed the room quickly, reaching for my arm. "What happened?"
"I need to go back." The words came out strangled.
Her face went pale. "What?"
"I have to go back to Saint-Helier. Now."
"You can't!" She grabbed my wrist. "Your parents must be furious right now. If you go back, they'll—"
I yanked free. "I don't give a damn!"
She flinched.
My mind was racing, clawing for logic through the fury. Something didn't add up.
My grandfather and my parents—they would never just let this happen. They wouldn't stand by and watch Elena and Caleb go through with it.
Scarlett opened her mouth, then closed it.
Unless they had.
Unless they'd decided it was better than the alternative.
A cold pit opened in my stomach.
The video replayed in my head. The way she'd looked at him—like he was the only solid thing in her crumbling world.
"She wouldn't just accept this," I said aloud, pacing. "She wouldn't jump from me to him that easily."
Scarlett stayed silent.
"She said she had someone she liked," I continued, talking more to myself now. "Was the man she mentioned really Caleb? No."
Even as I tried to deny it, I knew it was self-deception.
I thought of the way she'd defended him. The way she'd softened when his name came up.
My wolf snarled, clawing at the inside of my skull.
She chose him. She chose him over you.
"No," I muttered. "No. She was coerced. My family must have pressured her after I left. That's the only explanation."
I called the front desk, ordered a new phone delivered to the suite within the hour. Scarlett hovered nearby, arms wrapped around herself.
"Damon, please," she said quietly. "Don't go back for her."
I didn't respond. I couldn't.
When the phone arrived, I powered it on with trembling hands. The first call I made was to Elena.
Straight to voicemail.
I tried again. And again.
Each rejection felt like a knife between my ribs. My chest constricted, breath coming short and shallow.
---
Scarlett's POV
I watched him obsess, phone clutched in his white-knuckled grip. Watched him spiral.
A sharp, cold realization settled in my chest.
He still wants her.
All this time, he was still thinking about her.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked quietly.
He didn't hear me.
I moved in front of him. "Damon."
He finally looked up, eyes wild.
"Why are you so desperate to reach her?" I kept my voice steady, even as my pulse raced. "You left her at the altar. You chose me. I'm your mate."
His jaw worked.
"You got what you wanted—Elena and I can't be engaged anymore. What more do you want?"
He grabbed his jacket. The door slammed shut behind him.
The suite felt cavernous.
I sank onto the couch, hands shaking.
The image on my phone stared back at me.
She took him from me.
If she didn't exist, Damon would be completely mine. No divided attention. No lingering guilt.
I hated her. It was her fault I was losing him.