Chapter 57
Elena's POV
I thought of young Caleb locked in the bell tower. Thought of all those times people whispered mongrel, bastard, contamination, thinking he couldn't hear.
This was what he faced. This casual, vicious prejudice.
"Caleb isn't contaminated," I said, my voice shaking. "He's innocent. He's a victim of your family's cruelty. Despite everything they did to him—despite what you did to him—he survived. He succeeded through his own strength and talent. He gave me kindness when I needed it most."
Damon opened his mouth, but I wasn't finished.
"You want to know what makes me sick? You. You're a spoiled, useless playboy who's never worked for anything in his life. You coast on the family name, solve problems with money, treat people like disposable toys. What can you actually do, Damon? Besides party and break hearts?"
His face went white first, then red. "You don't mean that."
"I mean every word." I pulled out my phone. Found his contact. Deleted it right in front of him.
I turned the screen toward him, letting him see the confirmation message.
"We're done," I said calmly. "All of it. I'll stay as far away from you as possible. I'd appreciate it if you'd do the same."
For a long moment, he just stared at me. Like he was looking at a stranger.
Damon didn't move. He just... froze. Like his brain couldn't process what had just happened.
I wanted to turn and leave, but my suitcase from school was still in his trunk. It had been there ever since that day he made me get out of the car because of Scarlett. I needed to get it back before I disappeared from his life completely.
"I want my luggage."
His jaw tightened. Something flickered across his face—confusion, maybe hurt. But I didn't have the energy to decode it anymore.
He stalked to the trunk, yanked it open. I followed, keeping my distance.
The moment his hand closed around the handle, I knew something was wrong. He lifted it out in one smooth motion, then hurled it.
The suitcase hit the ground, the sound echoing through the parking garage like a gunshot. The hard shell cracked on impact, one wheel snapping clean off.
"Get out."
His voice came out low, guttural. Almost a growl.
I didn't look at him. Couldn't. I just walked over, grabbed the handle, and started dragging it toward the exit.
The wheel scraped and stuttered against the concrete. Every step was loud, awkward. But I kept my spine straight. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
---
Caleb was waiting near the entrance. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes locked on the parking garage like he'd been tracking every second.
The moment he saw me, his gaze dropped to the suitcase. Then to my face.
I tried to smile. Tried to show him I was fine.
His expression didn't change, but something shifted in his posture. His shoulders drew back, his jaw tightened.
He didn't ask. Just stepped forward, took the suitcase from my hand, and turned it over to inspect the damage.
"Come on," he said quietly.
We walked out together. He positioned himself slightly in front of me, his shoulder blocking the wind. A small, unconscious gesture of protection.
I glanced back once. Damon was still standing by his car, staring after us.
"Shit!"
His curse echoed after us. I didn't stop walking.
---
Caleb brought me to Lila's hotel room. He knocked, handed me off like I was something fragile, then disappeared down the hallway without a word.
"Elena." Her voice turned tight. "What happened to you?"
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.
She immediately pulled me inside, locking the door behind us. "Sit down."
I sat mechanically on the edge of the bed.
"What did he do now?" Lila crouched in front of me, grabbing my hands. "Damon?"
I nodded.
Then the words came pouring out like a dam breaking.
The ski slope. Scarlett's fall. The blurry truth in the footage. Damon's interrogation. His choice to believe her over me.
"That Scarlett is fucking sick!" Her face flushed red. "Damon's been with you for over ten years! And now you're the problem? What the hell is she?"
"Lila—"
"No, I'm serious." She paced back and forth, finger jabbing at the air. "She's a damn intruder. What gives her the right to point fingers? To frame you?"
I looked down at my hands. "Because Damon chose her."
My voice was too calm. Terrifyingly calm.
Lila stopped pacing, turned to look at me.
"From now on... he probably won't have anything to do with me anymore." I continued, my tone like I was discussing the weather.
But my hands were shaking.
Lila noticed. She came over and wrapped her arms around me.
Tight.
"You did the right thing," she said near my ear, her voice breaking. "Elena, you did the right fucking thing. He doesn't deserve you. Never did."
---
Caleb's POV
I stood at the end of the hallway, staring at that door.
Lila's room. Elena was inside.
I should go back to my own room. Should handle work emails. Should do anything—except stand here like a stalker watching her door.
But I couldn't move.
Her slightly swollen eyes. Her silhouette dragging that broken suitcase. That tired smile she gave me in the parking lot.
Fuck.
"Caleb."
I turned around. Hector emerged from his room, cigarette pack in hand, stopping when he saw me.
His gaze swept from my face to that door, then he raised an eyebrow thoughtfully.
"Don't," I warned.
"I'm not saying anything." He walked over, lowering his voice. "But... I heard some things. About Elena and Damon."
I waited.
"Word got around about the surveillance room." Hector leaned against the wall. "People inside Vance know you brought a 'young woman' to review footage of a ski accident. Some are saying she's Damon's fiancée."
"She's not his fiancée." The words came out sharp, more so than I intended.
Hector glanced at me. "Okay. But they don't think so. And... boss, your position in the Vance family is already sensitive. If because of Elena, you make more enemies internally..."
"It'll be trouble." I finished for him. "I know."
"Then you still—"
"We'll deal with problems as they come." My voice stayed level. "Besides, I don't have to stay at Vance."
Silence fell.
Hector stared at me, eyes widening. "You... would you give up everything for her? The company? Your foothold at Vance?"
I didn't answer immediately.
Would I?
The answer came too fast, too certain, surprising even myself.
"Everything I do is for myself." I finally said, looking at that door. "I just don't want to regret."
If helping her, protecting her, standing by her side meant losing everything at Vance—so be it.
I never truly belonged in that family anyway.
But when I'm with her...
That feeling is different.