Chapter 3: The Breaking Point
1191 Words
Pain exploded in Drake’s head.
“Uh!” The sound tore out of his throat as his knees buckled slightly. Warm liquid streamed down his face, blurring his vision. Red drops splashed onto the polished ground beneath his feet.
In Elena's trembling hand was a stone.
A rough, jagged stone.
It was stained with Drake’s blood.
For a long moment, time froze.
No one moved. No one dares to breathe a word.
The gentle Elena. The woman who endured humiliation without screaming, who swallowed pain without fighting back.
She had struck him.
The stone slipped from her fingers and hit the floor with a dull sound.
Elena stared at Drake, her chest rising fast. Her hands shook violently, as if they no longer belonged to her.
How could he?
Of all wounds, he chose the deepest one.
He knew what Atwater Village had done to her. He knew the nightmares, the shame, the memories she buried so deep that even the Moon Goddess rarely heard her cries.
Yet he dragged it out in public.
He crushed it between his fingers and stabbed her with it.
Elena’s eyes hardened. The softness that once lived there vanished, replaced by something sharp and final.
Her voice broke through the heavy silence, raw and hoarse.
“Whatever bound us,” she said slowly, “is gone, Drake.”
The words struck him harder than the stone.
Drake swayed as another wave of pain rushed through his skull. His vision blurred, not just from blood, but from something deeper.
A memory clawed its way to the surface.
There was a golden light. A school wall is warm under the sun.
Then a girl in a school uniform shoved him playfully, her eyes were bright with mischief. Her scent wrapped around him. It was familiar and sweet.
Elena.
Just as her face began to form clearly, pain ripped through his chest, tearing the memory apart.
“Drake,” Cassandra’s voice rushed in. “Say something. Are you okay?”
He blinked hard and came back to the present.
Drake lifted his hand and touched his face. His fingers came away wet and red.
“Moon Goddess,” he growled under his breath.
His eyes locked onto Elena again.
Before he could take a step toward her, Cassandra grabbed his arm, her grip tight.
“Drake, stop.”
Marcus moved fast.
He stepped between them and pulled Elena toward himself. Her body swayed, weak and unsteady. The burst of strength that pushed her to fight back was gone.
Her legs gave way.
Just as she began to fall, a strong arm wrapped around her waist.
Elena gasped softly and looked up.
The man holding her wore black from head to toe. His presence alone made the air feel heavier. His eyes burned with fury as they fixed on Drake.
Dolphus.
The moment Drake saw him, fear drained the anger from his face.
“Do- Dolphus,” Drake stammered.
Dolphus did not answer.
He loosened his tie and gently pressed it against Elena’s bleeding forehead, wrapping it carefully to slow the flow of blood.
Then he lifted Elena into his arms.
She felt weightless, safe in a way she had not felt in a long time.
Without saying a word, Dolphus turned and walked toward his car.
“Dolphus!” Drake called out again, panic creeping into his voice.
Dolphus carefully placed Elena in the back seat, adjusting her position so she would not feel pain. Then he straightened and turned.
His eyes met Drake’s.
“Who told you to touch her?” he asked calmly.
The question was quiet.
But it carried the weight of a command.
Drake’s lips parted, yet no sound came out.
Dolphus shut the car door firmly.
The sound echoed like a warning.
At the Medical Center
Bright lights filled the emergency room.
Elena and Drake were brought in moments apart. Nurses moved quickly, guiding Elena to a bed. One of them reached for the scarf around her neck.
“Could I please keep it on?” Elena asked softly.
Before the nurse could reply, Dolphus spoke.
“Remove that scarf.”
His voice was firm. Final.
Elena hesitated, then slowly lifted her hands and removed it.
The dark bruise around her neck was exposed.
The room went silent.
The door opened slightly as Drake stepped out of a nearby room. His breath caught in his throat when he saw it.
A deep mark.
Did I do that?
The thought sliced through him.
His eyes shifted to Dolphus, whose gaze was cold.
Drake stepped forward, lowering his head. “Dolphus, I lost control. I did not mean to.”
Dolphus looked at him calmly.
“Drake,” he said, “you celebrated your sixteenth birthday in this hospital because of Elena.”
Drake stiffened.
“Ten years later, you are here again,” Dolphus continued. “But this time, you are the reason she is lying on that bed.”
The words struck deep.
Cassandra froze beside Drake, her face pale.
Drake moved in front of her, shielding her without thinking.
“I take full responsibility,” Drake said quickly. “She had nothing to do with it.”
Dolphus glanced briefly at Cassandra, then returned his gaze to Drake.
“Has no one told you why the Farringtons stayed tied to the Hamiltons all these years?”
Drake swallowed hard but said nothing.
“Elena is the reason,” Dolphus said quietly. “She is the last descendant of Gamma Raphael Farrington.”
Later That Evening
After Marcus settled the bills, Cassandra and Drake left.
Elena remained under observation.
The cut on her forehead was stitched four times.
Dolphus stayed.
He stood near the window, speaking quietly on the phone.
“Be back by next Monday,” he said before ending the call.
When he turned, his eyes landed on Elena’s neck again.
“What happened?” he asked.
Elena blinked slowly. “Sorry?”
Then she understood.
“Oh. Drake thought I told Cassandra something. He hit me.”
Dolphus’s eyes darkened.
“I meant your neck,” he said.
Elena went still. Her gaze drifted away.
“It happened during my brother's wedding,” she said flatly.
“The Monroe family wanted me to pay for everything. The wedding. The car. The house.”
She paused.
“I refused. And that broke what little bond we had left.”
A bitter smile touched her lips.
“They came to my school and tried to take my tuition money. When that failed, they tried to kidnap me.”
Her fingers curled into the sheets.
“They wanted to trade me to pay for the wedding.”
The bruise told the rest.
Dolphus said nothing for a long moment.
Then his voice softened.
“Elena,” he said gently. “Eight years ago, I told you something. You did not answer me then.”
He looked at her steadily.
“I still haven't changed my mind about it.”
Elena opened her mouth to ask what he meant.
But no words came out.
She did not know how to ask without hurting him.
- Writer
