Chapter 2

Elena's POV

My words fell into silence, and for one suspended moment the entire hall held its breath.

Then my stepmother laughed. It was a sharp, deliberate sound.

"Elena," she said, "do you have any idea what you're saying?" She positioned herself beside Sophia with one hand raised protectively, as though I were a monster about to lash out. "Your power has been unstable for years. You haven't left this house. You couldn't possibly have saved Lord Adrian."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. "That's right, hasn't Miss Elena been kept at home all this time?" "I heard her abilities spiraled out of control more than once." "Someone like that saving Lord Adrian? Impossible."

My fingertips went cold.

My stepmother turned to address the room, her voice carefully shaped into something warm and certain. "The one who saved Lord Adrian that day was Sophia. She used her barrier to deflect the silver bullets and shielded him with her own body. Sophia's arm still carries a scar from that day, a wound from the sunlight that has never fully healed."

Sophia lowered her head on cue, one hand drifting quietly to her arm, her eyes red-rimmed, as though she were holding herself together through sheer effort.

"Mother, please stop. Sister is probably just upset. She doesn't mean it."

Adrian's gaze snapped to her, and the cold in his eyes dissolved, replaced by something I had never seen him direct at me: soft, aching protectiveness. He pulled Sophia close, one arm around her shoulders.

"Don't be afraid. No one is going to take credit for what you did."

I watched them together, and something in my chest felt ground to nothing. Those silver bullets had passed through my arm. I had stood in front of Adrian and refused to move. I had overextended my bloodline power, pushed my barrier to the point of collapse, just to stop the shots that came after.

And now everyone said it was impossible — because I had been locked in an attic, because Sophia looked more believable.

I opened my mouth, wanting to explain: that the servant watching the door had been careless that day, the lock left undone, and I had heard someone shouting that Adrian had been attacked by hunters, I rushed out without a second thought.

I was not running off to play, nor did I deliberately defy the family’s orders. I had only panicked and rushed out the moment I heard his name. Yet before I could speak a word, my stepmother cut me off coldly.

"What story are you going to invent now, Elena?"

"Are you really going to claim you just happened to escape that attic and just happened to save Lord Adrian?"

A few people laughed. The sound drove itself into my ears like needles. My father's expression was deeply unhappy.

"That's enough, Elena. This is the engagement party. Don't embarrass yourself."

I looked at him, and for one foolish, hollow moment I still hoped he might say something on my behalf — just one word. But he only stared back at me with blame in his eyes, as though I had done something unforgivable.

Adrian spoke. "Elena." His voice was flat. "Stop causing a scene."

I froze.

Causing a scene.

All those years of waiting, bleeding to save him, having that act stolen from me, and the only thing he could find to call it was a scene.

The pain in my chest was sudden and savage, something tearing through me from the inside. I pressed my hand to my sternum, then slowly moved it to my arm. Beneath my sleeve, hidden beneath what was left of my mother's dress, were two ragged scars, the marks silver bullets leave when they tear through flesh.

A half-blood healed faster than a human, but I had nearly emptied myself shielding Adrian that day. By the time I'd been dragged home, there was nothing left in me to close the wounds.

No one cleaned them, there were no medicines, and I lay alone in the attic and passed in and out of consciousness from the pain.

By the time the wounds finally closed, long after they should have, they had left two scars that would never fully fade.

I pulled back my sleeve. The room went silent.

I looked straight at Adrian. "Look closely. These are what was left from saving you."

Adrian's gaze dropped to my arm, and for one moment — just one — something shifted behind his eyes. I stepped forward, barely keeping the tears back.

"You don't have to love me. You can change who you're engaged to. But Adrian, I saved your life. If nothing else, for that, at least give me back what little dignity I have left."

His lips moved. He seemed about to say something. His gaze was no longer filled merely with hatred. The brief bewilderment in his eyes made hope bloom anew in my heart. As a boy, Adrian could instantly tell when I was being mocked and pushed aside. Maybe he was only momentarily confused. Maybe—

Sophia reached out and seized his arm. She tilted her face up to his, tears streaming. "Adrian, please don't fight with my sister over me. She was supposed to be the one engaged to you. If you want to marry her, then marry her. I don't mind."

She said she didn't mind. Her grip tightened.

She looked as if she had endured endless unfairness, yet chose to yield for everyone’s sake.

Adrian's uncertainty vanished and anger replaced it. He drew Sophia behind him and turned back to me, his eyes cold through to the bone. "Elena. You'll stop at nothing. Hurting yourself to steal Sophia's credit — you think I'll believe that?"

My blood went cold, inch by inch. I wanted to say no, that wound wasn't self-inflicted, that I was in front of you that day, that I was the one who bled. But my throat had locked shut. The surrounding stares, scrutinizing and contemptuous, made me shake. No explanation would reach anyone willing to hear it.

Adrian had already decided. He turned to my father, his voice hard and even. "Mr. Valerie. I am transferring my engagement to Sophia. As for Elena." He paused. "I don't want her in my sight."

My father's expression shifted, but he didn't object. A glint of satisfaction crossed my stepmother's face, and two servants stepped forward.

I took a step back by instinct. "Don't touch me." But no one listened.

They grabbed my arms and dragged me toward the doors. My wound was wrenched and my sleeve torn, and the pain turned my vision white. I looked back at Adrian.

He stood where he was. Sophia leaned against him, her eyes red and streaming, the portrait of a wronged innocent. He bent toward her, eyes full of nothing but the need to protect her, and never looked at me again.

The banquet hall doors were pushed open. Bright sunlight poured in from outside, and every vampire in the room instinctively recoiled. I was pushed straight through.

My knees hit the stone steps. My palms scraped open, blood beading quickly.

The sunlight fell on me, but it didn't feel the way it used to — not the way it had when my mother would sit with me and let the warmth soak in. Just a cold, bone-deep clarity.

I lay there and heard the doors slowly close behind me. Sophia had stolen my father's love, stolen the truth of what I'd done, and stolen my fiancé. Inside those doors was Adrian and her engagement ceremony, a perfect match. Outside was just me, abandoned like a punchline.