The New York skyline towers above. Elena stands at the observation deck of the Empire State Building. Her eyes scan the bustling crowd until they land on two familiar figures emerging from the elevator.
Elena's face lights. "Mom! Dad!"
She rushes over, her arms wide open, embracing her parents.
"Oh, Elena," Carol gushes. "New York is breathtaking!"
"And loud," Richard replies drolly, rolling his eyes.
Elena laughs, taking their hands and leading them to the edge of the deck, where the city sprawls out like a vast, living organism.
"I wanted you to see it from the top first. It's... it's like a promise, you know?"
Her parents nod, taking in the view with awe. Elena's gaze shifts to Damon, standing slightly off, holding two cups of coffee. He's smartly dressed with a nervous excitement in his posture.
"Um, there's someone I want you to meet," Elena remarks to her parents and signals Damon to come over. He approaches, handing a cup to Elena's father with a respectful nod.
"Mr. and Mrs. Lockwood, I'm Damon. It's an honor to meet you finally."
Richard and Carol exchange a surprised glance, then smile warmly.
Carol looks at Elena. "Is this the young man you've been telling us about?"
Elena beams. "Yes, this is Damon. He's the reason I've been calling New York home." She and Damon exchange a look of deep affection. The parents observe this silent exchange, their expressions softening.
Richard extends his hand. "Well, Damon, anyone who makes our Elena this happy is family in our eyes."
The plush red seats of the theater are filled with an eager audience, their murmurs a soft prelude to the night's drama. On stage, a lavish set recreates the opulent world of the Gilbertov Family, the final days of Imperial Bulgaria unfolding like a tragic ballet.
Atticus Shane is a seasoned theater critic with a sharp eye and an even sharper pen. His notepad is open, but his gaze is fixed on the actress playing Elena, her performance a haunting blend of vulnerability and royal poise.
As the curtain falls for the intermission, Atticus turns to his companion, Caitlin.
Atticus ponders. "She's remarkable, isn't she? She captures Elena's spirit as if channeling the Grand Duchess herself."
"Absolutely," Caitlin agrees. "But don't you ever wonder, Atticus? The mystery of it all? What if the real Elena did escape that fateful night? Could she be out there, a young woman with memories of a lost world?"
Atticus scribbles a note, then looks up, his eyes reflecting the stage lights.
"It's a compelling thought, Caitlin. A story that refuses to die, much like the legend of Elena herself. This play stirs the question anew, blurring the lines between history and myth."
"Perhaps that's the point. To keep us questioning, searching for truths hidden in plain sight," Caitlin suggests slyly.
Atticus nods, his pen pausing as he considers the possibility, the enigma of Elena lingering in the air like the final note of a symphony.
The lights dim in the bustling theater, and the audience's murmur fades into a hushed anticipation. In the front row, Richard and Carol sit side by side, their hands clasped together tightly, exchanging excited glances, their eyes sparkling with pride.
Carol whispers. "Can you believe it? Our little girl, all the way in New York... and on stage!"
Richard squeezes her hand. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. She's going to be brilliant."
The curtain rises slowly, revealing a minimalist set that captures the essence of a grand adventure. The spotlight falls on Elena. She's in costume, a striking figure that commands the space around her. The audience is captivated, hanging onto her every word.
Carol feels a tear slip down her cheek as she watches Elena, poised and passionate.
Richard's chest swells with a silent, overwhelming joy.
As the play progresses, Elena's performance is nothing short of mesmerizing. She moves with purpose, her voice never wavering, her presence a testament to hard work and dedication. The final lines of the play approach, and Elena delivers them with a power that resonates throughout the theater.
The audience erupts into applause, the sound thunderous in the small theater. Carol and Richard are on their feet, clapping until their hands ache, their cheers lost in the sea of adoration for the young actress who has stolen the show.
As the curtain falls, Carol turns to Richard, her eyes shining with tears of joy.
"She did it. She did it. I think Elena has found her calling."
Richard's voice is thick with emotion. "She's everything we ever hoped she'd be and more."
They remain standing, their applause unending, as the cast takes their bows. Elena's eyes find theirs in the crowd, and for a moment, everything else fades away...
The restaurant's ambiance is warm and inviting, with soft lighting and the gentle hum of conversation.
Elena and Damon sit across from Richard and Carol. They're all smiles, the air filled with the warmth of celebration.
"That was some performance, sweetheart. Your portrayal of Elena was brilliant. What are the odds that the leading lady has the same name as the character?" Richard winks at her.
"Yes, darling. We're so proud of you!" Carol agrees.
Elena beams, her cheeks flushed with the excitement of the night's success.
"Thank you, both of you. It means the world to me that you were there."
Damon nods in agreement. "She's been amazing, the audience loves her and the critics have given her performance glowing reviews."
The conversation flows effortlessly as the waiter brings over a steaming food tray. They talk about the play, the audience's reaction, and things to do in New York City.
"It's too bad Caroline and Tyler couldn't come, too," Elena mentions.
"They couldn't get away but they sent their love and that they'll try to come soon," Carol explains as she takes a forkful of her pasta.
Suddenly, Elena's expression turns serious. "There's something I need to tell you both. I hired a private detective when I arrived in New York."
Richard and Carol exchange a puzzled look.
"A private detective?"
"Yes, I'm hoping he'll be able to uncover where I came from and who I am."
Richard reaches out and lays his hand on hers. "We understand your curiosity. We don't want you to feel hurt if he comes up empty-handed."
"You'll always be my parents, but this is something I need to do. I talked to Mr. Mikaelson today and he wants to speak to you about the circumstances of my adoption. He asked that you come to his office tomorrow."
The mood at the table shifts. Richard and Carol are taken aback, but their eyes show a hint of admiration for Elena's initiative.
"Well, that's... unexpected. But we'll be there, of course."
Carol agrees. "Yes, we'll support you every step of the way."
Elena reaches across the table and clasps her hands with her parents. "Thank you so much."
The heavy wooden door of St. Jerome's creaks open, and Elijah steps inside once more. The air is thick with the scent of old books and pine cleaners. Children's laughter echoes from the courtyard, but the hallway is silent except for the soft clicking of his shoes.
Ahead, a figure in a black habit appears, her face obscured by the white coif of her veil. Sister Theodora looks up from her work at the sound of footsteps, her eyes kind but wary.
"Good afternoon, Sister. I'm Elijah Mikaelson. I'm here about a child I believe was brought here a dozen years ago from Bulgaria. I believe you were present at the time?"
Sister Theodora nods, folding her hands. "Yes, I remember the night well. It was during the harshest winter, and the revolution was at its peak."
"Do you recall anything about the person who left the child? Anything at all could help."
Sister Theodora sighs, looking toward the cross on the wall. "It was a night, and the snow was falling so thickly. She was delivered to us by a Bulgarian Nun. The child was found wandering alone the day after the Grand Duke and Duchess were taken hostage. She spent several months in a Bulgarian orphanage. The International Red Cross helped some people escape." The older woman pauses. "I remember... there was a necklace pinned inside a hidden pocket in her dress—a family heirloom, perhaps. It was sent with her when she was adopted."
Elijah's eyes narrow, a glimmer of hope sparking in his gaze. "Thank you, Sister. You've been more help than you know."
Sister Maria nods and gestures for him to follow. They walk down the corridor toward the entrance. Elijah's mind is racing with possibilities, each step bringing him closer to unraveling the mystery of Elena Lockwood.
Elijah welcomes Richard and Carol into his office and gestures for them to sit down.
"Is Elena with you?"
"She wanted to come but had some theater duties to attend to," Carol explains as she sits down.
"I understand this conversation may be difficult, but I assure you, I aim is to clarify your daughter's questions about her past."
"She's our daughter, no matter what the papers say. We raised, loved, and gave her everything we could," Richard says firmly.
"Of course, and that's evident in the wonderful person she's become. She wants to understand more about her origins, that's all."
"We adopted her from St. Jerome's here in New York. Richard and I were living here at the time. We desperately wanted a sibling for Tyler but weren't having any luck. We visited the orphanage. Richard's maternal grandmother came from Bulgaria and he recognized the language when they introduced us to Elena."
"It was love at first sight. We had gone in search of an infant and came out with an eight-year-old," Richard looks at Carol, holding her hand in his.
"I don't want to tell Elena yet until I have more proof but I believe her to be the lost daughter of the Grand Duke and Duchess of Bulgaria..."
"What?" Carol gasps in astonishment.
Richard exchanges a glance with his wife. "Why do you think that?"
Elijah pulls a photo of Elena as a child with her parents and the drawing Rebekah drew from a file and lays them out on his desktop for them to consider. "The photo is the Grand Duchess with her parents taken approximately a year before the revolution. My sister is a forensic artist. She drew this picture to imagine what an adult Elena looks like. The resemblance is uncanny, wouldn't you say?"
Richard and Carol scrutinize the photo. "So, what does this mean? What happens to Elena if this is who she is?"
"There's no going back to Bulgaria. She'd be in danger from the same people who murdered her parents. However, Grand Duchess Miranda had a sister, Jenna, who managed to escape the carnage. She lives here in New York. The problem is, that too many people have tried to pass imposters off as her niece. She's jaded now but I'm going to try somehow to get them together. "
"We want what's best for her but won't revealing her to the world put a target on her back?"
"It doesn't have to be a public reveal. I think Jenna and Elena deserve to be reunited. From what I know, they were very close."
"I'm speechless, honestly." Carol shakes her head in shock.
"You've done a great job as parents. Your cooperation is invaluable, and I assure you, my goal is to ensure Elena's safety and well-being above all else."
"Please keep us informed. We are supposed to meet Elena and Damon for lunch." Richard explains as they stand up.
Elijah watches them holding each other, a mix of hope and fear in their eyes as they face uncertain revelations ahead...
Her living room is bathed in the warm glow of a single desk lamp. Outside, the sky is a dusky purple, the day fading into history. Jenna sits at an antique oak desk. She holds a newspaper, its pages rustling softly as she turns them. Her eyes scan a review of a recent play titled "Elena: The Lost Duchess"
Jenna whispers to herself. "So much hope in the face of despair..." Her voice trails off as she reads the critic's words, "A poignant portrayal of the Grand Duchess Elena, a performance that reminds us of the fragility of life and the cruelty of fate."
Jenna's eyes linger on the word "fragility", and a sigh escapes her lips.
She leans back in her chair, the newspaper folded in her lap. Her gaze drifts to a framed photograph on the desk - a family portrait, regal and distant. Grayson, Miranda, and Elena stare back at her, their smiles forever captured before their downfall.
"Your story, our past...it still haunts me."
The critic's review praises the actress's ability to capture the essence of Elena, her vibrant spirit, and her tragic end. Jenna feels a connection. A thread of shared sorrow that ties her to the lost duchess.
Jenna stands, walking to the window, the newspaper left forgotten. The stars are beginning to appear, one by one, like lost souls finding their way home. She presses a hand to the cool glass, her reflection a ghostly companion.
"May you all find peace among the stars."
The melancholy of the tragedy envelops her, a shroud of if-only and what-if. But in her heart, Jenna still can't help but wonder if her Elena is out there somewhere...
Under the canopy of a cherry blossom tree in full bloom, a red and white checkered blanket is spread out on the lush green grass. A wicker basket sits open, revealing an assortment of cheeses, fruits, and a chilled bottle of white wine.
Damon smirks. "Can you believe how beautiful it is here? It's perfect."
Elena laughs softly. "It's like the universe conspired to give us the best day for a picnic."
Damon reaches into the basket, pulling out a bunch of grapes and offering one to her. "For my lady."
Elena takes a grape, her fingers brushing against his, a spark of electricity in the simple gesture.
"Why thank you, kind sir. How ever can I repay such generosity?" Elena asks teasingly.
Damon feigns deep thought, then points to the skyline peeking through the trees.
"You can start by telling me which of those buildings you'd buy me if you were a billionaire."
Elena follows his gaze, her eyes lighting up with amusement.
"Oh, that's easy. The one that touches the sky. Because it's the closest I can get to giving you a star."
They share a moment of laughter before falling into a comfortable silence, savoring the beauty of their surroundings.
Damon adds softly. "You know, I don't need a building or a star. This right here, with you, is all I could ever ask for."
She turns to him, her eyes reflecting the sincerity in his words. "And you are all I need," Elena whispers.
They lean in and share a kiss.
The room is dimly lit, the air heavy with the scent of old books and leather. A ceiling fan stirs lazily above.
Elijah sits across from Jenna Sommers, her hands clasped tightly on her lap.
"Thank you for agreeing to see me, Miss Sommers."
"Mr. Mikaelson, the only reason I didn't refuse flat out is because of your mother. She said you may know something about a girl named Elena."
Elijah nods, pulling out a folder. "Yes. It's taken a lot of digging, but I've found someone who matches her description. She's here in New York." He opens the folder, removes Rebekah's drawing, and lays it on the desktop.
Jenna's breath catches. "Why do you think this is her?"
"I asked my sister to age Elena based on an old photograph of her with her parents," he explains softly.
"I don't want to get my hopes up, Mr. Mikaelson."
"I know this has been a long and torturous journey for you. I can't make any promises, but I think she may be your niece. She's staring in Damon Salvatore's play at the Beacon Theatre. I know you support his work."
Jenna sighs heavily. "Yes, I do. We ran into each other quite by accident a few years ago. He saved my life that night. Supporting his work is the least I can do..."
"May I ask how you knew he was that Damon?"
"He recognized me. I was going to brush him off, but he knew all the details of that night that only someone who was there, someone who helped Elena and me escape through a hidden panel in the wall could know." Jenna pauses, "May I keep this picture?"
"Yes."
"I need to consider this, Mr. Mikaelson. Thank you for coming. I'll see you out," she states tersely and walks him to the door.
"Come in, Mr. Salvatore. Miss Sommers is expecting you." The maid steps aside, allowing Damon to enter.
He's led to a room filled with shelves of leather-bound books, a large mahogany desk, and paintings of history and wealth. He's perusing the titles when he hears his name.
"Good afternoon, Damon," Jenna greets him as she sits at her desk and gestures for him to sit. "I read Atticus Shane's review of your new play. I did not know you had written one about my Elena."
"I appreciate your generosity, Miss Sommers. Her story has haunted me since that night at the palace when you and Elena escaped through that panel."
"The crowd at the train station swallowed her up. I don't know what happened to her after that. If she was killed by the revolutionaries or trampled to death that same night..."
Damon drops his eyes and notices a drawing on her desk. "Miss Sommers, if I may be so bold, that sketch there… it bears a striking resemblance to a girl I know."
Jenna glances at the drawing on her desk. "A private detective brought it to me. Why?"
Damon leans forward, intrigued. "Indeed, it is. The woman in this picture is Elena Lockwood. The star of my play...I'd swear to it."
Jenna picks up the drawing, her fingers tracing the lines of the portrait. "Do you think she could be my niece?" she asks, distractedly.
Damon's in shock, too. "I'm not sure but miracles do happen, Miss Sommers."
Jenna places the drawing back on the desk, her gaze meeting Damon's.
"Perhaps I should come to a performance and see her for myself. I've been hurt too many times, Damon, by unconscionable people trying to pass off girls as my niece. I don't know if I can take that again."
"Yes, I think you should come. You can decide if you want to meet and talk to her. I know she was adopted from St. Jerome's Orphanage, but she doesn't know the circumstances of how she arrived there. She has no memory of her life before that."
"Do I dare have hope?" Jenna asks as she rises and walks over to the window.
"She may not be your Elena but if she is, don't you think it's worth taking the chance?" Damon asks and moves closer to her.
"I need some time to consider it. Thank you for coming, Damon."
"Of course. I'll see myself out," Damon says, leaving with a soft door snap.
The room is silent except for the soft ticking of the antique clock on the mantelpiece. Jenna stands motionless in the center, her gaze fixed on the drawing on her desktop.
Jenna's heart flutters with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. Could it be? She can't deny the resemblance, the eyes have the same spark that always hinted at a mind brimming with imagination and wonder.
She steps closer, her eyes tracing the lines of the drawing as if to uncover its secrets. The artist has captured the girl's essence, a spirit so vibrant that it seems to leap off the paper. Jenna's mind races back to the last time she saw Elena at the train station on that horrible night before she vanished into thin air.
Years later, all the memories frozen in time bombard Jenna's senses. Her fingers tremble as she reaches out, not to touch the drawing, but to feel the presence of the young woman who might be on the other side.
"Is it you, Elena?" she whispers, her voice barely audible. "Have you come back to me?"
The question hangs in the air, unanswered. Jenna takes a deep breath, steadying herself against the wave of emotions.
Maybe she will find the piece of her heart missing all these years.
Apologies for the lateness. I was going to update but my sweet mitten-cat Scarlett- I changed my icon to her- died suddenly. We had her for over 16 years and it doesn't seem real that she's gone. She was fine, eating Churu treats Monday evening, and then when she wouldn't come out from under our bed Tuesday, I knew something was wrong. I made my husband lift the mattress so I could get her out. She was suddenly paralyzed in her hind legs and died Wednesday. I'm shattered.
Thank you all for reading. *Heart emoji*
Chapter title: Once Upon a December by Liz Callaway.
Have a lovely weekend.