Chapter 91 Home

Chapter 91 Home
Elara’s POV

“Do you still trust Vincent?”

Carl’s question followed me long after neither of us spoke another word. It hung in the air between us like a shadow I couldn’t shake, making my chest feel tight and my thoughts spiral in circles I didn’t want to follow. The silence that settled after wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it was merciful. He didn’t pressure me for an answer, and I was grateful for that because I didn’t have one. Not really. Not one that made any sense.

I should have.

Everything he had told me was true. If Vincent had truly murdered our parents with his own hands and then tried to erase Carl’s memories of that night, then the answer should have been simple. I should have hated him. I should have looked at his name with disgust, remembered every moment we’d shared, and wished I’d never met him. The thought should have filled me with rage, with betrayal so deep it burned away any lingering feelings I had left.

Instead…

I couldn’t.

The realization terrified me more than anything else. I wanted to hate him. God knew I tried. Every time his face appeared in my mind, I reminded myself of Carl’s words. I pictured my parents begging for their lives, imagined Vincent standing over them without mercy, and told myself that any feelings I had developed for him had been nothing more than a terrible mistake. A dangerous illusion created by loneliness and desperation.

But then another memory would force its way into my thoughts, soft and insistent, refusing to be ignored.

Vincent carrying me out of danger, his arms strong and steady around me.

Vincent tending to the cuts on my ankle with hands so gentle they barely hurt, his voice low and reassuring as he whispered that everything would be okay.

Vincent standing between me and Zachariah, his body a shield I hadn’t asked for but desperately needed.

Vincent risking everything to rescue my brother and me, even when it put his own life in jeopardy.

Vincent’s confession to me, the way his voice had cracked when he admitted how much I meant to him.

The two versions of him refused to fit together, and I felt as though my heart was being torn in opposite directions. The man who had shown me kindness and protection couldn’t possibly be the same monster Carl described. Or maybe I had simply never known him at all. The uncertainty left me feeling lost and vulnerable, like the ground beneath my feet was crumbling away.

I didn’t know anymore.

And perhaps that frightened me the most.

Beside me, Carl walked quietly along the streets, allowing me the space to wrestle with my thoughts. He didn’t push or prod. He just stayed close, a steady presence that reminded me I wasn’t completely alone in this mess. Before long, the old neighborhood came into view, and despite everything weighing on my heart, my pace quickened almost instinctively.

Home.

Maybe if I could just step inside my mother’s house, everything would make sense again. Maybe sitting in her favorite chair, smelling the familiar scent of lavender that always lingered in the curtains, would remind me who I was before vampires, betrayals, and impossible choices turned my life upside down. The thought carried me forward like a small light in the darkness until I stopped in front of the small white house.

Something immediately felt wrong.

I frowned, my stomach twisting with unease.

“Cassandra’s car…”

It wasn’t there.

A knot formed in my stomach as I climbed the porch steps, my legs feeling heavier with every movement. I knocked on the door, the sound echoing in the quiet afternoon air.

Nothing.

I waited another few seconds before knocking again, louder this time, my knuckles stinging against the wood.

Still nothing.

Carl remained quietly behind me, watching without saying a word. His silence only made the growing dread in my chest feel heavier.

My heartbeat began to quicken, a frantic rhythm that matched the rising panic I was trying so hard to push down. “Hello?” I called, my voice cracking slightly.

Silence answered me.

I was about to turn away, my mind already spinning with explanations, when I heard movement from inside the house.

Footsteps.

Then the unmistakable sound of someone unlocking the front door.

Relief flooded through me, warm and sudden.

Finally.

The door opened.

My smile disappeared instantly.

The woman standing in front of me was a complete stranger.

She looked to be in her late forties, dressed comfortably in casual clothes, with an apron tied around her waist as though she’d been cooking before answering the door. She frowned at me, her expression guarded but polite. “Can I help you?”

For a moment, I simply stared at her, my mind struggling to process what I was seeing. “I…” My voice faltered, barely more than a whisper. “Who are you?”

The woman’s expression became even more guarded. “I live here.”

My brows knitted together in confusion, a wave of disbelief washing over me. “No…”

I shook my head, refusing to accept what was right in front of me. “I think there’s been some mistake. This is my house.”

“No,” the woman replied firmly, her tone gentle but unyielding. “This is my house.”

I felt the ground shift beneath my feet, a sickening lurch that made my stomach drop. “My mother’s house,” I corrected weakly, my voice trembling. “I’ve lived here for years.”

The woman’s face softened for only a second before returning to cautious politeness. “We bought this property from the owner.”

My stomach dropped even further. “…What?”

“The sale was finalized last week.”

Her words echoed inside my head like a cruel echo.

Last week.

“We moved in yesterday.”

“No…”

I whispered the word before I even realized I’d spoken, my voice barely audible. “That’s impossible. There must be some misunderstanding.”

“There isn’t.”

She folded her arms gently across her chest. “I’m sorry if someone gave you the wrong address, but my husband and I legally purchased this house.”

I stared past her into the familiar living room, my eyes widening with horror. The photographs were gone. My mother’s rocking chair was gone. Even the curtains had been changed. Every trace of our family had disappeared, wiped away like we had never existed at all.

“I…” My voice broke, the words catching in my throat. “Please… My mother lived here.”

The woman’s expression grew sympathetic, but she slowly shook her head. “I don’t know anything about that. If you have an issue with the previous owner, you’ll need to contact them.”

“I don’t know who you are,” she continued carefully, her voice firm but kind, “but if you keep insisting this house belongs to you, I’ll have no choice but to call the police.”

The words struck harder than I expected.

The police.

At my own home.

Before I could say another word…

She quietly closed the door.

The soft click of the lock sounded impossibly loud in the quiet afternoon.

I remained frozen on the porch, staring at the weathered wood as though the door might suddenly open again and fix everything. It didn’t. The finality of that sound settled deep in my bones, leaving me feeling hollow and lost.

Slowly, I stepped backward, my legs feeling unsteady beneath me.

My vision blurred with hot tears.

Cassandra…

She hadn’t looked for me.

She hadn’t reported me missing. She hadn’t waited to see whether I would come home.

She had sold my mother’s house…

Taken whatever money she wanted…

And disappeared.

She hadn’t just abandoned me.

She had erased me.

The tears came before I could stop them, hot and uncontrollable. I covered my mouth, but a quiet sob escaped anyway, raw and broken. Everything was gone. My mother. My home. Every memory I had left of the life we’d built together. Strong arms wrapped around me before my knees could give out. Carl pulled me against his chest without saying a word.

He simply let me cry.

When I finally managed to steady my breathing, he rested a gentle hand on my shoulder, his touch warm and reassuring. “Come with me.”

I looked up at him through tear-filled eyes, my vision still blurry.

“You don’t have to stay here anymore.”

“I have a home.”

“We can start over together.”

His voice was calm and reassuring, filled with a quiet strength that made me want to believe him. “Leave here. Leave the city. Leave all of this behind. You’ve suffered enough. You deserve a life where you don’t have to keep looking over your shoulder.”

I wanted to believe him.

More than anything…

I wanted to say yes.

To leave every nightmare behind.

To build a new life with the brother I had only just found.

To finally be happy.

But even as I imagined walking away…

One face appeared in my mind.

Vincent.

My chest tightened painfully.

Why…

Why did the thought of leaving him behind hurt so much?