I'm officially BACK! I was so happy that some of you are still interested in this story and stuck around while I was MIA. I'm really sorry that I wasn't updating any of my stories for almost a year, but college took away every second of my free time. Life happens.

So first, I'm gonna post 2 chapters at once which were originally one chapter when I came up with this story...There will be slight changes to the original one and more chapters will follow :) I hope you like what my beta and I did!

Let me know what you think, it gives me major motivation and a silly happy face when I see I got a review from you :))

Enjoy!


Chapter 1: Too Little, Too Late

Damon woke up with a head that felt like it had been smashed with a hammer. With a groan and a glance at his watch, he determined that it was nearly three in the afternoon, which meant that he had missed four business meetings and two conference calls despite it being a Saturday morning.

He groaned again as he let his face fall back into his pillow, trying to decide if he honestly cared. What did it matter? Once the media found out about his father's dark past, his company would be in the toilet. Daddy dearest had been into some rather sordid business before he kicked the bucket, which left Damon to clean up the shit to keep the vultures away.

Amidst other sordid, dodgy deals and dirty secrets, there was one large cover-up that had been buried so deep into his father's past that there were very few alive today who could recall the incident. Damon had only found out himself when his father had passed. An old warehouse had burnt down with a young woman inside many years ago.

The unfortunate part was that the young woman at the time had been married to Giuseppe's biggest competitor in the market, leaving Damon's father as the prime suspect for the arson. Of course, this had been swept under the rug and hidden by Giuseppe's lawyer. The knowledge had been left for Damon in his father's will. Cheers, dad.

Following the revelation, Damon had tried to repent for his father's sin and get into the good graces of the victim's daughter. Isobel hadn't known the true nature of her mother's death due to her age, but when she had come of age and learnt of the fire, she had sworn vengeance on Damon, and the Salvatore name.

She promised to destroy everything associated with them and therefore Giuseppe's company, and as a byproduct: Damon's legacy. The secret that was uncovered that day would have stayed buried had he not been betrayed by his roommate Alaric. Alaric had been his best friend for as long as he could remember.

It only seemed natural to move in together after Damon and Elena had split, giving up their shared apartment. When Damon had learnt of the fire and tried to get into Isobel's good graces before she found out the information herself, he had inadvertently led Alaric to his soul mate. Isobel and Alaric fell in love the moment their eyes met.

It didn't take long for the guilt to destroy Alaric and force him to confess the Salvatore's deepest shame. Now Isobel was on a path straight to Damon's downfall, leaving him to do nothing but sit back and watch with a bottle or three of bourbon to keep his company. He decided that he may as well enjoy it while he could afford to.

Damon sighed to himself and finally found the strength to roll out of his bed. Using his hands and knuckles he pushed himself up on his mattress, only to fall back down in agony as the sharp pain tore into his hands. With a glance at his knuckles, he located the source of the problem: three deep cuts.

Using his other hand, he leant over and switched on his bedside lamp to closer inspect the pain. The bright light illuminated the room and his skin, revealing the embedded shards of glass in the cuts. Damon hissed in pain as he attempted to pluck them out with his thick fingers but it was futile. His fingers weren't slim enough and the cuts immediately began to ooze blood.

He was searching for a dirty t-shirt to wrap it in when he noticed he was still in his suit. He also noticed the blood stains on his once white shirt. Finally, out of bed, he glanced around and wondered why he was bothering. Usually, he let himself sleep when he was drunk, hungover or drowning in self-pity, or all three.

But the guilt was eating him alive, and he couldn't keep still. When he looked up, she was looking at him with eyes full of fear. Damon gasped and squeezed his eyelids shut, not wanting to see her face but watching it burn behind his eyelids. "It's over." Her voice echoed in his mind, turning his stomach enough to make haste to the bathroom.

He barely made it to the toilet before he threw up everything he'd drank the night before. "Damon?" Someone called, interrupting his vomiting.

He glanced behind him whilst wiping his mouth with his less injured hand, and realised he hadn't closed the door behind him. Alaric stood in the hallway with a stony face and suitcases at his feet. Damon felt his stomach give again and barely repressed heaving. How could his best friend look at him with such contempt?

"What's with the suitcases? She's taking you on a vacation?" Damon snapped.

"She asked me to choose, Damon. I chose her." Alaric replied simply without a shred of guilt or sorrow in his voice.

Damon smirked, trying to hide the pain behind cockiness. "Elena's lucky she got free of you." "What?" Damon snapped again.

Alaric frowned. "I said-"

"I know!" Damon interrupted, staggering to his feet.

His mind always taunted him. Crossing to the basin after flushing the toilet, Damon glanced at himself in the mirror above. He saw his father's face in his cruel smirk, smelt him on his breath. Giuseppe would be proud of him now, the man he always wanted Damon to be. They were one and the same for the first time: isolated and hurting everything that came near them.

"If you walk out that door," Damon hissed, his father's eyes looking back at him. "Don't ever come back."

"Don't worry," Alaric replied with a bitter edge, a tone he rarely used. "I don't plan to."

He bent to retrieve his suitcases and Damon listened to his best friend walk out of his life. When the click of Alaric's keys sounded through the kitchen, Damon felt like he had been punched in the gut, but when the front door slammed, he had never felt emptier. The silence following burrowed into Damon's head, reminding him that he was truly alone.

He glanced back into the mirror, his father's face looking back at him and his thoughts wandered back to the glass that continued to break beneath his skin, scattering tiny shards across the sink. His brother's words haunted him in that moment: "She couldn't love that. No one ever could."

"It's over."


"Elena?" Elijah called from the other side of the bathroom door, gently rapping his knuckles against it.

"It's been a while… are you okay?"

"I'll be out in a minute," Elena whispered, barely loud enough to be heard through the door.

There was silence where she could hear his breathing, and she knew he was debating pressing the matter. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the words but she was surprised to hear his retreating footsteps, signalling he had left her alone to her thoughts. She lifted her chin and glanced in the mirror, tracing her finger over the cut marking her skin.

"You are mine, Elena!"

She shuddered at the memory, her eyes fluttering closed as she pushed away from the image. She didn't want to remember him like that. It hurt to think of his name, because despite the pain he brought, she saw the sorrow in his eyes and felt his anger and fear radiating from him. She cared about him so much.

Elena opened her eyes once more, catching sight of the brilliant sparkle on her finger. The light flashed off of the diamond ring, nearly blinding her and forcing her to look back towards the door, and the man who had left it. She hadn't spoken to Elijah all day because she was afraid he would notice the cut on her face. He cared about her so much.

He's someone I should marry, she thought.

No, he's someone I want to marry… right?

She finally stood from where she was perched on the lip of the bath and unlocked the door. Elijah was behind it, waiting on her bed. Elena paused in the doorway, turning off the light in the bathroom, leaving her bedroom lamp to illuminate the couple. Elijah glanced up and tried to smile, worry clear in his eyes.

"Elena," he breathed with his strong English accent. Her lips quirked at how prominent it was when he spoke her name. "Were you… crying?"

"No!" She snapped, her smile dropping.

Elijah recoiled from her harsh tone, one she didn't much use around him because he was too sweet to cause a rise in her. "No... I just got a little soap in my eye when I was washing my face… clumsy me," she forced a laugh.

She wondered if Elijah noticed, but was too much of a gentleman to mention it. Elena liked him for that… loved. She loved him for that. Right? She cleared her throat and stepped away from the bathroom, trying to smile. "Are you ready to leave? I know my aunt can't wait to meet you."

Elijah smiled, standing and wiping a hand down his suit. He really was a handsome man. "Of course, shall we?"

He offered his hand like the gentlemen he always aspired to be, and Elena slipped hers into his palm, finding that a smile did easily slide onto her lips. Easy. As simple as breathing. It was meant to be like this, wasn't it? Not forced, not lies, not control, not power. Easy, sweet, romantic.

This is what she should want.

This is what she did want.

When she had been a little girl, she had wanted to be a beautiful princess with a handsome prince who loved her unconditionally. First, she had found the dark knight, a player she hadn't expected in her game of life, someone who sucked away her happiness. Now she had found her prince in Elijah.

Then why was she so unhappy?

Because I'm stupid, Elena thought to herself as she put on her coat and returned Elijah's smile. I fell in love with the wrong man, the wrong player, and now there's no room for anyone else. Elijah opened the door for her, beckoning her to go first. No, he's no longer a player. The dark knight is no good for me. I've found my prince. Nothing can change what happened.

It's irreversible, and this is it.

It's over.


"Damon?" Called a chirpy voice he recognised.

Damon didn't look up from his glass, or acknowledge the fact that Elena's best friend was in his apartment. The amber liquid he stared into was his only friend.

"Damon? Where… Oh, here you are."

Caroline rounded the corner with her usual smile and immaculate hair, makeup and clothing. Her smile fell from her painted lips when she found Damon in the dark, still dressed from last night and knocking back the remains of his glass. Her eyes fell to the broken picture on the floor, still littered with the glass shards that covered Elena's smiling face.

"What happened?" Caroline demanded though worry clouded her voice.

Damon placed his glass down with a resounding ring and looked up at her. He glanced briefly at the smashed photo frame and shuddered at the image of chocolate brown eyes widening in fear. He glanced back at Caroline, raising his hand and displaying his injuries. Caroline took a hold of his hand and sat next to him with a sigh.

"You didn't even clean it? Jesus Damon, it's a miracle that you managed to get dressed this morning." As she said this, she glanced at his suit and rolled her eyes. "You didn't change clothes."

"I've been busy," he dismissed her.

"With what? Slicing your hand to pieces and ruining your life? What did you do? Apart from…" Caroline grimaced at the sight of the glass embedded in his knuckles. Damon scowled at the pity clouding her eyes and yanked his hand free.

"Elena," Damon murmured.

Caroline glanced at him and raised her blonde brow. "I was wondering where she went yesterday. Not that she would have told me, but what happened?" She asked as she took his hand back and gently started to extract the glass shards. Damon watched her for a moment then sighed.

"She's… she's going to marry that English knob," he tried to say with fire in his belly but instead his throat tightened with emotion. "She's gone."

"Yeah," Caroline whispered softly, putting down his hand for a moment before she picked it back up to fix his wounds. "She still loves you though, Damon."

"No," Damon said quickly.

Caroline sighed. "Yesterday you were convinced she loved you… what changed? Damon… what happened last night?"


Thank you for reading!

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