Chapter 2: Make It Up to Him
Caleb chuckled softly, a self-deprecating sound. If she truly cared, why had she suggested he take Jesse’s place in prison? He swallowed the bitterness, burying it deep. Lowering his gaze, he nodded with cold detachment. “Ms. Quixall.”
Yelena’s smile vanished. She’d envisioned this reunion countless times, prepared to endure his grievances about Jesse, but not this chilling detachment. Once, Caleb had followed her, a bright grin illuminating his face, eyes brimming with admiration, declaring he'd one day be as strong as she. Now, those same eyes were dull, lifeless—still water. Suppressing the sting of disappointment, Yelena composed herself. “Don’t be upset anymore. Come home with me.”
Caleb’s lips curved into something ambiguous. “Home? Which home? The one that made me out to be a murderer?” He hadn’t always been so sharp, so cutting. Initially, upon entering prison, he’d clung to hope, believing his family wouldn’t be so heartless. He waited. Then, after what felt like an eternity, Deborah arrived, tears streaking her face as she grasped his hands, her voice trembling with guilt. “Caleb, the victim was Mr. Vorse’s son. We had no choice but to fight for something less than the death penalty. Just be patient. Once you’re out, I promise—I’ll make it up to you!”
After that, only Jesse visited—once. His words still sickened Caleb. The next time Caleb saw his family, it was on a screen: George, Deborah, Yelena, and Jesse, attending corporate meetings, smiling for the cameras, basking in their perfect reunion. They had moved on, lived their lives, forgotten he was still imprisoned. Return to what home? He had no home anymore.
Yelena’s expression darkened. Stepping forward, her voice sharp and commanding, she said, “Caleb! Enough!”
He met her gaze unflinchingly, his dark eyes steady—a blend of resilience and indifference. He didn’t back down. Under his unwavering stare, Yelena hesitated. Guilt flickered across her face; her tone softened. “No matter what, that was still the home that raised you for twenty years. We had no choice back then. You have to understand—”
Caleb cut her off with a cold laugh. “Isn’t it obvious who the real culprit was? You had no way to save your ‘real’ brother, so you told my fiancée to lie in court. Don’t act like there’s anything left to explain.”
Yelena froze, her pupils contracting in shock. “How did you know?” Realizing her slip, she scrambled to defend herself. “Raquel made that choice on her own!”
This time, Caleb was caught off guard. His lips trembled; after a long pause, he laughed bitterly. “So she willingly lied… claimed I was the one driving.” Everything he’d believed in, everything he’d relied on, had been an illusion. A cold smirk touched his lips. “You guys are really something.”
Yelena’s patience frayed. Seeing him push back, she sighed, her tone stern. “Enough. Our family has been doing everything possible to make it up to you. This car was bought for you. Go home—Mom is still waiting to see you.”
Yelena shoved the car key into his hand. The sharp edge scraped his palm, the cold metal a chilling contrast to the winter air. Caleb glanced at his reddening palm before tossing the key back. “No need.” He wouldn’t take anything from the Quixall family.
Yelena’s patience snapped. Humiliation twisted her features as she hurled the keys at his face, her voice sharp with fury. “Caleb! Enough with the tantrums! You took Jesse’s place for twenty years—what’s so wrong with serving five years in his place?”
He didn’t flinch. The key sliced across his cheek, drawing blood. Yelena’s eyes widened. Caleb wiped the blood away, his expression unreadable. Such a wound was nothing compared to what he’d endured. He corrected her calmly, almost earnestly. “My name is Caleb Jenkins now. I served his prison sentence—consider that my final debt to the Quixall family. I’ll find my own way back, so I won’t pollute your air anymore.”
The words struck Yelena like a slap; they were familiar. Five years ago, she’d thrown those words at him, telling him to stay away, that his presence polluted her air.
Caleb walked toward the bus stop. Embarrassment twisted into frustration for Yelena. She picked up the keys and shoved them at him, her voice sharp. “You’re really spoiled!” Huffing, she spun, got into the car, and sped off. She never looked back, never saw Caleb clutching his chest, collapsing to his knees, coughing up blood. “Caleb?”