Too Late Mr. Hawthorne I Already Married Your Rival

Elena’s POV

I should have known the night was already slipping away from me the moment I sat down alone.

The candles on our anniversary table burned lower with every quiet minute that passed. Soft wax pooled at their bases while couples around me leaned into each other, laughing, touching, existing in the kind of closeness I had been waiting for all evening. Thirty minutes. I counted them in the flicker of the flames and the soft scrape of silverware against plates that were not mine.

Then Damian walked in.

He moved through the restaurant with that same easy smile he always wore when he was late,warm, apologetic, certain I would forgive him. He pulled out the chair across from me as if the empty space between us had never mattered.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Traffic was terrible.”

I looked at him.

Really looked.

“Thirty minutes?”

“I know.”

“You know how long I sat here?”

His smile softened into something almost sheepish. “I’m sorry, Ellie.”

I wanted to stay angry.

God, I wanted to.

But this was Damian.

The man I had spent twelve years learning how to forgive. The man whose late arrivals and broken promises I had folded into the shape of love so many times that the sharp edges no longer cut as deeply as they should have.

I exhaled.

“Fine.”

His smile widened, relieved. “I knew you wouldn’t stay angry with me.”

Something in those words settled wrong in my chest. Still, I pushed it down. Tonight was supposed to be ours. Our twelfth anniversary. Our restaurant. Our table. I would not let the evening break before it had even begun.

Crystal chandeliers threw warm light across the room. Soft jazz curled through the air, mixing with quiet conversation and the distant glow of New York beyond the windows. Damian had chosen this place himself. Everything should have been perfect.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he said, reaching across the table to take my hand.

I let him. “Thank you.”

“I mean it.”

A small smile found me. “You don’t look bad yourself.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s all?”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t push your luck.”

He laughed, and for a few fragile seconds the world narrowed to just the two of us. The way it used to be. The way I still wanted it to be.

Then his phone suddenly buzzed.

The smile left his face for the briefest second. His eyes dropped to the screen. He turned the phone over quickly, but not quickly enough.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Yes.” Too fast.

“You sure?”

“It’s nothing important.”

I nodded, but the lie sat between us like a third person at the table.

Damian has been different lately.

Busy.

Distracted.

Distant in the quiet ways that hurt more than shouting ever could. And I knew exactly when it had started,when Isabella Hayes came back to New York.

His childhood sweetheart.

His closest friend. The woman everyone insisted I had no reason to fear.

Twelve years. I told myself that number should have been enough. That trust should have been enough. But the reminders kept arriving in cancelled dinners and late nights and the soft way he said her name when he thought I wasn’t listening.

“I’m happy we could spend time together tonight,” I said quietly.

His expression softened. “Me too.”

“You know this day is important to me.”

“I know. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

The words should have felt like safety. Instead they only reminded me of every promise that had already been broken. Every time Isabella had needed him and I had been the one left waiting.

The waitress arrived with our food. I reached for my glass. Damian’s phone buzzed again.

This time he didn’t even try to hide it. His jaw tightened as he read the screen.

“Damian?”

“Excuse me for a second.”

He stood before I could answer and walked toward the entrance. I watched him go, then stared at the empty chair across from me. One minute.

Two.

Five.

The food in front of me grew cold. My appetite vanished.

I could see him near the doors, phone pressed to his ear. Then I heard it—soft, almost lost beneath the restaurant noise.

“Bella, calm down.”

My heart sank so quietly I almost didn’t notice the pain until it was already there.

Of course.

Isabella.

I looked down at my untouched plate and felt the weight of every week I had spent pretending. Pretending she was only a friend. Pretending his cancellations weren’t about her. Pretending I was not always the one expected to understand.

When he returned, I didn’t look away.

“Was that Isabella?”

He paused, then sighed. “Yes.”

“Is something wrong?”

“She was upset about something.”

A quiet, humorless laugh left me. There was nothing funny about any of it.

“It’s our anniversary, Damian.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you talking to Isabella?”

His face changed. “Because she needed someone to talk to.”

“And she couldn’t talk to anyone else?”

“Don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“Make a problem out of nothing.”

I pressed my lips together until they hurt. For a moment neither of us spoke. Then the truth slipped out before I could stop it.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m competing with her.”

His expression hardened. “You know there’s nothing between Bella and me.”

“I didn’t say there was.”

“But you’re acting like it.”

“I just want you to put me first sometimes.”

The words hung between us, raw and trembling.

Damian stared at me.

Then his phone rang again. And again. And again.

“Answer it,” I said quietly.

“Elena…”

“Go ahead.”

He held my gaze a few seconds longer, then stood. “I’ll be right back.”

I watched him walk away.

Again.

Alone at our anniversary table, I sat and waited the way I always did,hoping this time would be different, knowing somewhere deep it wouldn’t be.

A few minutes later the restaurant doors opened.

Isabella Hayes suddenly stepped inside wearing a pale blue dress that made her look almost fragile. Blonde hair rested perfectly against her shoulders. Her eyes scanned the room until they found him. Relief softened her face.

Damian was already moving toward her.

I sat frozen as she reached him, as she began speaking with wet eyes, as he placed a careful hand on her shoulder. My anniversary dinner dissolved into something smaller and sharper. I reached for my bag, ready to leave, ready to stop pretending the ache in my chest was something I could ignore.

Then Isabella screamed.

Every head turned.

A woman stood near the entrance, face pale, eyes burning with something wild and broken. In her trembling hand was a gun.

“Isabella!”

The name cracked through the restaurant like glass.

“Where is that woman?”

Isabella stumbled backward. “Ma… ma’am?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know!”

Chaos erupted. Chairs scraped. People screamed. Bodies pushed toward exits. Damian stepped in front of Isabella at once.

“Put the gun down,” he said, voice steady.

The woman ignored him.

Her hand shook harder. “You ruined everything! Why would you try to take him away from me? You think you can be happy while I’m still suffering?”

My heart slammed against my ribs. Someone rushed past me. Their shoulder struck mine hard enough to knock me off balance. The world tilted.

A gunshot tore through the air.

Pain exploded in my arm,white-hot, sharp, undeniable. I looked down and saw blood spreading through my sleeve, warm and terrifyingly real. My knees weakened. Everything blurred at the edges. Screams rose around me, but all I could see was Damian a few feet away.

“Damian…”

He turned.

Our eyes met.

For one heartbeat I believed he was coming to me.

Then Isabella grabbed his arm.

“Damian!” She was shaking, crying, clinging. “I can’t breathe.”

He looked at her. Then at me. I stood there bleeding, barely able to stay upright, and still he hesitated.

“Damian,” I whispered again.

Isabella buried her face against his chest. “Please don’t leave me.”

Something inside me fractured cleanly.

Damian’s arms closed around her. “I’m here, Bella.”

Those three words cut deeper than the bullet.

I’m here.

A waiter finally reached me. “Ma’am! Are you okay?”

I tried to answer. My voice failed.

Only then did Damian notice the blood. His eyes widened. “Elena?”

I almost laughed.

Now he saw me.

“She’s been shot!” someone shouted.

The rest became noise and light and pain. Paramedics.

Questions.

Movement.

Damian followed when they took me to a private treatment room. I sat on the edge of the bed while the doctor cleaned the wound. Damian paced.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly.

“For what?”

He stopped. “For everything.”

“Which part?”

He had no answer.

Of course he didn't.

I looked at him until the silence became unbearable. “You saw me, Damian. You looked at me. And then she called you.”

“She was having a panic attack.”

“And I was bleeding.”

The room went quiet.

For once he had nothing to offer.

“Do you know what hurts the most?” My voice cracked. “I wasn’t expecting you to save me. But I thought you would at least notice when I was hurt.”

“I did notice.”

“Not at first. Not until someone else pointed it out.”

“Ellie, it happened too fast.”

A broken laugh escaped me. “That’s what you always say. You always have an excuse.”

His phone buzzed. Both of us looked at it. I already knew.

“Isabella?”

He nodded slowly. “She needs me.”

I closed my eyes. Of course she did.

“She has trauma,” he said quietly. “Things like this are hard for her.”

“And what about me?” The words came out raw. “I just got shot, Damian. And you’re still thinking about leaving?”

Conflict flickered across his face.

For one fragile second I hoped. Maybe this time he would stay. Maybe this time he would choose me.

Then the phone rang again.

He looked toward the door. “I’ll just go and check on her. Only for a few minutes.”

My heart dropped into something cold and final.

“You’re leaving?”

“Bella is terrified.”

I nodded slowly.

There it was. The answer I had been afraid of for weeks. I was not the one he would choose. Not when Isabella needed him. Not even when I was the one bleeding on a hospital bed.

“It’s fine,” I whispered. “Just go.”

My voice sounded hollow even to me.

“I’ll be back before you know it, okay?”

He didn't wait for me to respond before he slammed the door and left.

By the time the doctor had finished bandaging my arm, Damian still wasn't back.

“You're lucky it's just a graze. It could have hit something vital.”

“I've prescribed some antibiotics and pain relievers for you, and you should call someone immediately to stay by your side. You can't be here all alone tonight.”

I nodded silently, wondering whom that would be, since my so-called fiancé was too busy to even care about me.

“Oh my gosh! Ellie!”

Samantha’s voice cut through the silence of the treatment room as she rushed inside.

I looked up at the sound of her voice, and despite the pain throbbing through my body, a small smile tugged at my lips.

Of course, she would come.

Samantha had always been there whenever I needed her, my best friend, my confidante, and sometimes the closest thing I had to family.

“What are you doing here?” I managed to ask, watching as she hurried toward me.

Her eyes widened when she finally took in my appearance.

“Ellie,” she breathed. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I came as soon as I could. Are you okay?”

Sam looked around the empty room, then walked towards me, her expression darkening.

“And where is that fiancé of yours?”

“Where is Damian?”

“Urhm… he had to go somewhere.”

“And that is more important than you?”

“You just got shot, and he is somewhere else other than being here?”

Her voice rose at every word she spoke.

“Don't tell me it's what I'm thinking…”

I looked away immediately.

That was all the answer Samantha needed.

Her expression changed instantly.

“Isabella.”

I remained silent.

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