Chapter 167
Elena's POV
I burst through the stairwell door and started running, the bag clutched to my chest. My hand stung from the slap.
Damn it.
My face was burning.
Did you do it? Did he mark you?
The look on his face when he saw the condoms. Like I'd betrayed him. Like I'd done something unforgivable.
I wanted to scream. Wanted to throw something. Wanted to go back there and hit him again, harder this time.
By the time I reached my apartment, I was out of breath, my legs shaking.
I locked the door behind me and collapsed on the couch.
"I'm not yours," I said out loud to the empty apartment. My voice was hoarse. "I never was yours."
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out with trembling hands. Caleb's name lit up the screen.
For a second, I just stared at it. Then I pressed answer.
"Caleb." My voice carried something I couldn't name.
The silence on the other end stretched too long. Then: "What happened?"
I pressed my palm against my forehead, trying to organize the chaos in my head.
"Elena."
"I'm fine," I said quickly. Too quickly. "I just—"
But I wasn't fine. My hand still stung from the slap, my bag lay half-open on the couch, Damon's accusations still echoing in my mind.
"You don't sound fine."
I bit my lip. Hard. The sharp pain grounded me, pulled me back from an edge I didn't want to examine.
"It's just... that interview on Monday," I said, forcing my voice to steady. "I'm nervous."
Another pause. I could almost see him on the other end, trying to read my mind through the phone.
"The market's tight this time of year," he said finally, his tone shifting into something calmer, more analytical. "Most companies finished hiring before the holidays. If you want an edge, emphasize that you can start immediately. Show them you're not waiting around for a better offer."
I exhaled slowly. "Right. Okay."
"Did you prep your answers?"
"Some." I sank onto the couch, gripping the phone tighter. "What was your first job interview like?"
"I didn't have one."
I blinked. "What?"
"They contacted me directly." His voice was flat, matter-of-fact. "But you'll need to walk them through the standard stuff. Self-intro, academic background, any relevant experience. Highlight your strengths for the role. Be ready for a skills test."
I nodded even though he couldn't see me. "Okay. What else?"
"Have examples ready. Real situations where you solved a problem or handled pressure. Don't just list your skills—prove them."
"Thank you," I whispered.
"Elena." His voice softened, and I heard the faint rustle of fabric, like he was shifting position. "You'll do fine."
I wanted to tell him about Damon. But the words stuck in my throat.
Instead, I said, "How did you manage when you were abroad for college?"
"Why?"
"Just curious."
He sighed. "Studied and worked part-time. A fast-food place near campus."
I tried to picture it—eighteen-year-old Caleb in an apron, taking orders, wiping down tables. It felt so far removed from the man I knew now.
"Why?"
"I needed the money. Living expenses were tight."
My stomach twisted.
"Elena?"
"I'm still here." I forced myself to breathe.
"I should let you rest," he said quietly.
"I don't want to end this so soon—I miss you so much."
The words burst out before I could stop them. My face burned. I heard him inhale sharply.
"I miss you too. But I'll be back soon."
That was the only good news today.
---
Marcus's POV
The call came just as I was about to leave the office.
"Mr. Vance, this is from the Smart Home Innovation Summit organizing committee. I wanted to personally congratulate you—your team took first place in the competition."
I stopped mid-step, my hand still on the office door. "I'm sorry?"
"The team you sent was exceptional. The judges were particularly impressed by the real-time predictive modeling." He chuckled. "Honestly, we didn't expect that level of sophistication from a team working under such tight deadlines."
I lowered myself into my desk chair slowly, my mind racing. "That's... excellent news. Thank you for informing me."
"Of course. We'd love to discuss potential collaboration opportunities moving forward. Your lead developer—Caleb Vance—left quite an impression during the presentation. Very sharp. Very composed."
I made some polite noises about follow-up meetings and schedules before ending the call. Then I sat there in the silence, staring at nothing.
Caleb's team had won.
I'd intended to use this competition to suppress him. Instead, it had only increased his influence.
I pulled up the competition website on my computer, scrolling through the results. First place. Unanimous decision. Glowing reviews from industry leaders.
And suddenly, I was thinking about Damon.
Damon, who'd been handed every advantage since birth. My resources, my protection. But he couldn't keep his personal life from bleeding into public scandal, couldn't control his impulses and had destroyed a carefully arranged engagement.
His behavior always disappointed me.
I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temples.
The smart choice would be obvious. To anyone looking at this objectively, the answer would be clear.
But the choice wasn't objective. It was political. It was legacy. It was the promise I'd made to my father—to Isabella—to the board.
He was my son. Both of them were.
But only one could lead this family.
---
The house was dark when I got home. Isabella's car was in the driveway, but most of the lights were off—just the soft glow from the living room spilling into the hallway.
I found her on the couch, a tissue crumpled in her hand, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen.
"What now?" I said, more harshly than I meant to.
She looked up at me, startled. Then her face crumpled. "It's Damon."
Of course it was.
"What did he do this time?"
"It's not—" She pressed the tissue to her eyes. "He won't come out of his room. He's been in there all day. He put something against the door so no one can get in, and it's so quiet, Marcus. He's not yelling, he's not throwing things—there's no sound at all."
I sighed and set down my briefcase. "I already let him see Elena today. If he can't handle it, that's on him."