Elena’s POV

“Damian left you here for Isabella, didn’t he?”

Samantha’s voice hung in the air between us, sharp enough to cut. I stared at the thin hospital blanket covering my legs and at the white bandage wrapped tight around my upper arm, at anything except her face. The fluorescent lights above the bed buzzed faintly.

My throat felt dry.

“He… he got a call,” I said finally. The words came out small. “From her. She was shaken. He said she has trauma and that these things are hard for her to bear.”

Samantha made a sound that was half laugh, half something uglier.

“Hard for her to bear? Oh, please. You just got shot, Ellie. You’re the one sitting here with stitches while he runs off to hold her hand.”

I pressed my good hand against the edge of the mattress. “It happened fast. He panicked. He thought the gun was aimed at her.”

“And then he left you alone in a treatment room so he could go check on the woman who wasn’t even hit.” Samantha stepped closer, arms crossed. “This isn’t about one night. This has happened countless times. Cancelled dates. Distant looks. Her name in every conversation. Twelve years, and you’re still making excuses for him.”

“Ellie?”

My chest tightened. I wanted to argue. The old instinct rose up—to defend him, smooth it over, and keep the peace. Instead, I only whispered, “I can’t just throw away twelve years.”

Samantha’s expression softened for a second, then hardened again. “Then those twelve years are going to keep you in the dark, Ellie.”

Before I could answer, my phone vibrated on the side table. The screen lit up with Dad’s name.

I answered on the second ring.

“Elena.” His voice was low, controlled, the way it always got when he was furious. “I just heard. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. It’s only a graze.”

“A graze that required stitches because your fiancé decided protecting another woman was more important than protecting you.” Silence stretched for a beat. “Where is he right now?”

I closed my eyes. “He… stepped out. Isabella was distressed.”

Dad exhaled hard through his nose. “Do not marry Damian Hawthorne, Ellie. I won’t repeat myself again.”

The words landed like a slap.

“But, Dad…”

“Listen to me, young lady. You have given that man chance after chance. He has shown you, repeatedly, where you stand. You better leave him and come home tonight.”

My fingers curled into the blanket.

“I… I can’t just walk away. We’ve been together since I was fifteen. That’s half my life. He deserves one more chance to make this right.”

“Loving someone is not enough to make them love you the way you deserve, Ellie.” His voice gentled, but the steel underneath stayed. “One day, you will understand that. I only hope it doesn’t cost you more than an arm.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I blinked them back. “I have to try, Dad.”

He was quiet for a long moment. “I’m not in support of this. Just know that your brother and I will not stand by and watch him keep breaking you.”

The call ended.

I lowered the phone to my lap, staring at the dark screen until Samantha’s hand settled on my shoulder.

“Your dad’s right,” she said quietly.

I didn’t get the chance to answer.

The door flew open hard enough to bounce against the wall.

My older brother, Lucas, filled the doorway, still dressed in his work clothes. His dark hair was messy, as though he had run his hands through it repeatedly, and his jaw was set like stone.

Lucas had always been protective of me, sometimes unbearably so. But one look at his face told me this wasn't going to be one of those times when I could simply tell him to calm down.

His eyes scanned the room, landed on the empty chair beside my bed, then finally found me.

“Where is he?”

I opened my mouth, but nothing useful came out.

Lucas strode in and stopped at the foot of the bed. “Samantha called me. Said you got shot and your precious fiancé disappeared. So where the hell is Damian?”

“Lucas, I…”

“Don’t.” He held up a hand. “I already know. He’s with her, isn’t he?”

My silence was enough.

Lucas’s expression darkened. “Get up. You’re coming with me.”

“I’m not leaving. The doctor said…”

“I don’t give a damn what the doctor said. You’re not staying in this room alone while he plays nursemaid to Isabella.” He reached for my good arm. “We’re going to find him. Right now.”

I tried to pull back. “Lucas, stop. You’re overreacting.”

He didn’t let go. His grip was firm but careful of the bandage. “Overreacting is what happens when your little sister gets a bullet graze and the man who put a ring on her finger can’t be bothered to sit with her. Move, young lady.”

Samantha stepped aside without a word. I let Lucas pull me to my feet. The floor felt unsteady under my thin hospital socks. My arm throbbed in time with my heartbeat.

We walked the corridor in silence. Nurses glanced at us. A security guard near the elevators watched Lucas’s face and wisely said nothing. At the nurses’ station, Lucas asked one clipped question. The woman behind the desk hesitated, then pointed down another hallway.

Room 214.

I heard Damian’s voice before we reached the door.

Soft.

Steady.

The same tone he used when I had nightmares years ago.

Lucas didn’t knock. He pushed the door open.

Isabella lay propped against white pillows, a thin blanket over her legs. Her blonde hair was artfully mussed.

No bandage.

No blood.

Just wide blue eyes and a trembling lower lip.

Damian sat on the edge of the bed, one hand covering both of hers, the other brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.

He looked up.

For a second, his face went blank. Then something like guilt flickered and vanished.

“Ellie… what are you doing out of bed?”

Elena's POV

I stood in the doorway, the fluorescent light harsh on my face, the bandage on my arm suddenly very visible. Lucas’s presence at my back felt like the only solid thing in the room.

Damian stood slowly. “Bella was in shock. The gun and the screaming made her panic. She needed someone with her.”

“And I needed my fiancé.” My voice stayed level. I was proud of that. “You left me in a treatment room while a doctor stitched my arm. You didn’t even wait until the bleeding stopped.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “You’re being dramatic. It was just a graze. The doctors had you. Bella had no one.”

Isabella’s soft voice floated from the bed. “Damian, please don’t fight because of me. Elena’s hurt. Of course she’s upset. I understand completely.”

My stomach turned.

I stepped farther into the room. “What about me, Damian? When do I get to matter more than her?”

His expression hardened. “Stop making everything about yourself. Bella nearly died tonight. The least I can do is sit with her.”

“She didn’t nearly die. The bullet hit me, Damian.”

“Because I pushed her out of the way. Because I did what any decent person would do.” He took a step toward me. “You’re acting like I chose her over you on purpose. It was instinct. Seconds. And now you’re turning it into some grand betrayal.”

Isabella slid carefully off the bed. Bare feet on cold tile. She walked toward me with slow, careful steps, like she was still fragile.

“Elena,” Isabella whispered, her voice trembling with false vulnerability, “please don’t blame Damian because of me. I never wanted to come between you two.”

Her blue eyes glistened as she looked at me.

“You’re the woman he chose. You’re his fiancée. I’m just…” Her voice cracked as she lowered her gaze. “I’m just an old friend who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

For a second, I almost laughed.

The wrong place?

The wrong time?

As if she hadn't appeared at our anniversary dinner. As if she hadn't sat between us all evening while Damian forgot I even existed.

She took a hesitant step toward me.

“Please, Elena. I don't want you to hate me.”

Her hand reached for mine.

Something inside me recoiled.

“Don't touch me.”

I pulled my hand away.

And suddenly…

“Ah!”

Isabella stumbled backward.

My breath caught.

She hadn't merely lost her balance.

I could swear she threw herself back.

Her body slammed against the edge of the hospital bed, and her cry tore through the room.

“Elena!”

The sound of my name left her lips like an accusation.

She collapsed against the floor beside the bed, clutching her wrist as though I had violently shoved her.

For one horrifying second, I could only stare at her.

Then Isabella looked up at me.

Through the tears gathering in her eyes, I saw it.

The faintest flicker of satisfaction.

And I knew.

She had planned it.

Every single second of it.

Damian was already moving.

He didn't even look at me.

Didn't ask what happened.

Didn't give me a single second to explain.

He went straight to her.

“Bella!”

He dropped to his knees beside Isabella, his hands immediately finding her shoulders as if he were afraid she might break beneath his touch.

“Are you okay?” His voice shook with panic. “Did she hurt you?”

I stared at him.

Did I hurt her?

The question echoed inside my head.

Not what happened?

Not Elena, are you all right?

Nothing.

He had already decided I was guilty.

Then Isabella let out a small, broken sob.

That was all it took.

Damian's head snapped toward me.

And the look in his eyes made my blood run cold.

“Are you out of your mind?” he shouted.

I barely had time to take a breath.

Then he came toward me.

“Damian, wait… I…”

The words never left my mouth.

His hand slammed into my shoulder.

The force of it sent me stumbling backward.

“Ah!”

My injured arm struck the edge of the doorframe.

A bolt of white-hot pain tore through me.

For one terrible second, I couldn't breathe.

Then my knees gave out.

I hit the floor hard.

Pain exploded through my arm and shot up to my collarbone. My vision blurred. The cold hospital tile pressed against my skin as I instinctively curled around my injured arm.

The room went silent.

Not because everyone was shocked.

Because no one expected Damian to put his hands on me.

Least of all me.

“ELENA!”

Lucas's roar shook the room.

I looked up just in time to see him charge.

He crossed the distance between us in seconds, his fist already raised.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

Damian barely had time to turn.

Two orderlies rushed into the room, grabbing Lucas by the arms before his fist could connect with Damian's face.

“Let me go!”

Lucas fought against them violently, his eyes locked on Damian.

“LET ME GO!”

“Lucas!” I gasped, trying to push myself up.

He didn't even look at me.

All he could see was Damian.

“You put your hands on my sister again,” Lucas snarled, his entire body trembling with rage, “and I swear to God, I will make you regret the day you ever met her.”

Damian's face was flushed.

But instead of looking ashamed, instead of looking horrified, he looked furious.

“She attacked Bella!” he shouted. “What the hell was I supposed to do?”

My heart stopped.

I stared at him.

At the man who had known me for twelve years.

At the man who was supposed to marry me.

And in that moment, I understood something far more painful than the wound burning through my arm.

He hadn't even considered that Isabella could be lying.

He didn't need proof.

He didn't need an explanation.

One tear from Isabella, and Damian had already chosen her.

I stayed on the floor. The pain in my arm was sharp and clean. The pain everywhere else was something else entirely.

Isabella cried softly against Damian’s chest. He murmured something into her hair, one hand stroking her back.

I pushed myself up slowly, using the wall for balance. My legs shook. No one offered a hand.

When I stood up, I looked at Damian.

I really looked at the man I had loved since I was fifteen. At the man who had just pushed me to the floor to protect someone else.

The diamond caught the harsh hospital light as I slowly slid it from my finger.

For twelve years, I had believed that ring represented my future.

A promise.

A life.

Now, all I could see was another lie.

I took one step toward Damian.

He watched me, still holding Isabella, his expression filled with the same certainty that had kept me trapped beside him for years.

As if he already knew I would forgive him.

As if I always would.

My fingers tightened around the ring.

Then I threw it at him.

The ring struck his chest before falling into his hand.

“We're done.”

Silence filled the room.

Even Isabella’s soft sniffles quieted.

Damian looked down at the ring. Then he laughed.

Short.

Disbelieving.

“Stop being dramatic, Elena.”

I didn’t move.

He closed his fingers around the ring. “You’ll come crawling back.”

Something inside my chest cracked open and went still.

“Why are you so sure?”

His eyes met mine.

There was no softness left in them. Only the arrogant certainty of a man who had never had to fight for what he wanted because it had always been handed to him.

“Because you have nowhere to go.”

The words settled over me like ash.

I looked at him one last time. At the woman still tucked against his side. At the ring glinting between his fingers. Twelve years of excuses and second places and quiet hopes that someday I would be enough.

Then I turned away.

“You’re wrong, Damian.”

He smirked. I felt it more than I saw it.

“Am I?”

I walked out of the room without answering. Lucas was still being held back by the orderlies. Samantha reached for me, but I kept moving. Down the corridor. Past the nurses’ station. Toward the exit signs glowing red in the distance.

For the first time in twelve years, I didn’t know where I was going.

But I knew one thing with absolute clarity.

I would not stay.

And if Damian Hawthorne truly believed I had nowhere to go, then he was about to discover just how wrong he was.

Elena’s POV

I didn’t look back.

The corridor stretched ahead of me in a blur of white walls and scuffed linoleum. My arm pulsed with every step, the bandage pulling tight against the stitches. Somewhere behind me, raised voices still echoed,Lucas’s fury, Damian’s defenses, Isabella’s soft cries.

But I kept walking.

Samantha caught up first. Her hand brushed my uninjured elbow, light enough that I could have shaken her off if I wanted to.

“Elena.” Her voice was low. “Slow down.”

I didn’t. The exit signs glowed red above the double doors.

He had managed to free himself from the orderlies, but he didn't say a word.

His jaw was set, eyes still burning. He fell into step on my other side without speaking. The three of us moved together through the automatic doors and into the cooler dark.

Outside, the city noise rose around us,distant traffic, a siren somewhere far off. I stopped under the covered walkway and drew a breath that scraped. My hands were steady. That felt wrong. They should have been shaking.

Samantha studied my face. “Talk to me.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re…” She cut herself off, glancing at the way I held my arm close to my body. “You’re scaring me more like this.”

Lucas suddenly pulled out his phone. “I’m calling Dad.”

I shook my head. “No. I’ll call him.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but after a moment, he put his phone away.

I reached for mine.

The screen immediately lit up.

Damian.

Missed calls.

Messages.

More missed calls.

My chest tightened, but I ignored every single one of them and scrolled to Dad’s name.

He answered almost immediately.

“Ellie?” His voice was tense. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

I opened my mouth.

Nothing came out at first.

Then I swallowed.

“Dad…”

My voice cracked.

“I’m done.”

There was silence on the other end.

Not surprising.

I pressed my lips together, trying to keep my emotions under control.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I whispered. “I’m coming home.”

Dad let out a slow breath.

“Okay.”

That single word nearly broke me.

“I’ll arrange a flight,” he continued. “Come home, Ellie. We’ll talk when you get here.”

I closed my eyes.

He didn’t tell me he had warned me.

He didn’t remind me of everything Damian had done.

He simply said, “Come home.”

And somehow, that hurt more.

“Okay,” I whispered.

When the call ended, I lowered my phone.

Lucas was watching me.

“Come on,” he said gently. “My car’s in the visitor lot.”

Samantha slipped an arm carefully around my waist, mindful of my injured arm.

“We’ll get a hotel for the night,” she said. “You need to rest. We’ll figure out the flight in the morning.”

For once, I didn't argue.

I was too tired and too hurt.

And for the first time in twelve years, I didn't have the strength to fight for Damian anymore.

The drive to the hotel was quiet.

Lucas kept both hands tight on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the road. He didn't turn on the radio. And Samantha sat beside me in the back seat, close enough that our shoulders touched whenever the car moved.

I leaned my head against the window.

Every bump in the road sent a dull ache through my injured arm, but I kept it to myself.

I was tired.

Too tired to complain.

Samantha noticed anyway.

“You can lean on me, you know,” she murmured.

I glanced at her.

“I’m fine.”

She gave me a look. “Elena.”

Despite everything, the corner of my mouth lifted slightly.

“Fine,” I muttered.

I carefully rested my head against her shoulder.

Samantha immediately leaned her cheek against my hair.

“There,” she whispered. “That’s better.”

From the front seat, Lucas glanced at us through the rearview mirror.

“If she starts crying, Sam, tell me.”

“Lucas,” I groaned.

“What? I’m serious.”

“I’m sitting right here.”

“Exactly. And you're terrible at admitting when something is wrong.”

Samantha smiled. “He’s right.”

I lifted my head and glared at both of them.

“Traitors.”

For the first time that night, Samantha laughed.

Even Lucas's mouth twitched slightly.

The moment didn't last long, but it was enough.

Enough to remind me that I wasn't completely alone.

The hotel wasn't far from the hospital. Lucas parked, then immediately came around to open my door before I could reach for the handle.

“I can do it myself,” I murmured.

“I know.”

“Then why are you standing there?”

“Because you got shot, Elena.”

“It was a graze.”

Lucas gave me a flat look. “You were still shot.”

Samantha climbed out behind me.

“Honestly, Ellie, just let your brother take care of you for once.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Both of you are annoying.”

“Good,” Lucas said. “You're talking.”

The hotel room was simple and quiet. As soon as we entered, Samantha locked the door behind us.

“Sit down,” she ordered.

“I need to shower first.”

She looked at the bloodstains on my clothes and immediately softened.

“Okay. But I'm helping you change afterward.”

“I can change by myself.”

“I know you can. I’m still helping.”

Lucas pointed toward the bathroom.

“You've got ten minutes.”

I stared at him. “Are you timing my shower now?”

“Yes.”

“Unbelievable.”

“Ten minutes, Ellie.”

I shook my head and went into the bathroom.

By the time I came out wearing an oversized T-shirt and sweatpants Samantha had bought for me, my hair was damp and my body felt slightly less tense.

Samantha was sitting on the bed waiting for me.

“Oh, good,” she said, standing. “Come here.”

“Why?”

“So I can check your bandage.”

“Samantha…”

“Elena.”

I sighed.

She carefully inspected the edge of the bandage, her movements gentle.

“You're lucky I'm a better best friend than you are a patient.”

I looked at her. “You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

“Absolutely.”

Lucas stood near the window, watching us.

He turned when he heard me sit on the bed.

“How bad is the pain?”

“It hurts.”

His jaw tightened.

Samantha handed me a glass of water and my medication.

“Take these.”

I swallowed the pills and handed the glass back.

“Good girl,” Samantha said.

I narrowed my eyes.

“I am not five you know.”

“You're acting like it.”

Lucas gave a quiet snort.

I looked at him. “Don't encourage her.”

“You two sound exactly the same as you did when you were teenagers.”

Samantha smiled. “And you're still just as bossy.”

“Someone has to keep Ellie alive.”

“Excuse me?” I said.

Lucas shrugged. “Evidence suggests otherwise.”

I was about to answer when my phone started ringing.

The room immediately went quiet.

Damian.