Elena Gilbert Death Novels & Stories

Silence. No one spoke. No one moved. Everyone stared at the photograph lying on the table. Dr. Gabriel Hart. Richard Hart's elder brother. Elena's uncle. The forgotten sixth founder. Elena slowly picked up the old photograph, her fingers trembling almost imperceptibly. "This..." "...is impossible." Alexander stood beside her, equally stunned. "My father told me Uncle Gabriel died in a laboratory fire." Elizabeth slowly shook her head. "That's what everyone was told." "The funeral was closed."

Tell them the truth. Julian called me four days later. It was late in London, nearly midnight, but his voice was wide awake and sharp as broken glass. "I found her," he said. "The real Elena Marchetti. She died fifteen years ago in a small town in Nevada. Cancer. She was forty-one years old. She spent her last weeks in a charity hospice. There was no funeral. No obituary. No family was notified because there was no family left to notify." I sat down slowly in the library chair. The fire had burned down to embers. The house was silent. "How did she die?"

"I was in the military hospital. I met your grandmother. Eleanor Knight. She was good. Clean. A light. She pulled me out of hell." His voice softened. Then turned sharp. "Then, when she was about to give birth to your aunt, Delilah came back." "That woman. Her man was dead. She had nowhere to go. She came to me." "She saw how happy I was with Eleanor. She was jealous." "She... she gave your grandmother strychnine. Almost killed them both." Gerald's body trembled. His shoulders hunched in the shadows. "Eleanor died. In my arms. Your aunt survived by luck..."

Silence. Lucian's gaze locked on hers instantly. Elena gripped the phone harder. "Where is he?" Another pause. Long enough to make her heart sink. Anton answered quietly. "We found him this morning." The dread in his voice told her the rest before he said it. "He was dead." The world seemed to stop. After everything. After years of disappearing. After surviving long enough to become a ghost. Gabriel Mercer was dead. Elena closed her eyes briefly. Too late.

“You had a partner?” Elena didn’t react to the tone. “Yes.” Victor asked the question that mattered. “What happened to him?” The room stilled again. Because this time the silence wasn’t about strategy. It was about memory. “He died,” Elena said. Lucian froze. “What?” Cassandra didn’t interrupt. Rowan’s voice lowered. “You’re sure?” Elena nodded. “I saw it.” That should have ended it. But it didn’t. Because the system in front of them wasn’t built by someone who was gone.

The name meant nothing to me, but something in Victoria's tone made my skin prickle with warning. "I don't know who Elena is," I said slowly, confusion clouding my thoughts. "I think you have me confused with someone else. My parents—my mother and father—they're my biological parents. I was never adopted." Victoria's expression softened slightly, but her eyes remained sharp. "Elena didn't die in a car accident, my dear. She was murdered. Shot twice in the chest and left in an alley in Queens like she was nothing more than a common criminal." The room spun around me. The beeping of the monitors grew louder, more frantic.

Cynthia questioned in panic. “Wait,” Elena cut in when she gave a second thought to Cynthia's first statement. Her brows furrowed in confusion as she flinched. “Before you play the audio, I have a confession to make, Cynthia,” her mother said, her tone laden with melancholy. “W–what do…” Cynthia stammered with no particular statement coming out of her mouth until her mother cut in. “I arranged for the assassination of Lila five years ago,” Elena admitted as she lowered her head.

She was nervous all over again. We had tried to soften the atmosphere but it hadn't worked because what she had to tell me must’ve been serious enough that she got nervous just by thinking about it. “Elena Grimaldi is dead. She was found hanging in her apartment today morning. She left a suicide note saying that she takes the blame for everything that happened in the Emilio Vitale case and she can’t handle the heat anymore. She decided to take the easy way out.” The news hit me like a bucket of cold water. I knew Elena and I knew she would never willingly take her own life. She loved herself too much. She was a fucking narcissist for heaven’s sake.

Sebastian Elena Dumont has died, perished in the hospital after not waking from her coma. Well, that’s what we paid the press to report. We needed to weed Robert and Eliana out and think this would be the best way to do it. After Isaac’s confession, we decided to work together and concluded that the only way to get them out of France was to pretend Elena had died. A funeral was scheduled the day after tomorrow and the ‘will’ would be read this afternoon.

Elizabeth felt the ground sway beneath her feet. "No…" she said, her voice cracking, her hands trembling at her sides "No, that's not possible." Henry nodded grimly "I found Elena when I went to perform the last rights for Diana and dispose her ashes in the river — you know exactly when Diana died due to that accident during the childbirth.