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 for his grievances about Jesse, but not this cold detachment. Once, Caleb had followed her, a bright grin on his face, eyes brimming with admiration, declaring he would one day be as strong as she was. Now, those eyes were dull, lifeless—like still water. Suppressing her disappointment, Yelena forced composure. “Don’t be upset anymore. Come home with me.”

Caleb let out a soft chuckle, his lips curving into something neither a smile nor a sneer. “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. He’d told himself his family wouldn’t be so heartless, that they’d find a way to free him. He waited. And waited. Then, after what felt like an eternity, Deborah arrived. Tears streamed down 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 a lesser sentence. Just be patient. Once you’re out, I promise—I’ll make it up to you!”

After that, only Jesse visited—once. The words Jesse spoke still sickened Caleb. The next time Caleb saw his so-called family, it was on a screen. News reports showed George, Deborah, Yelena, and Jesse attending corporate meetings, smiling for the cameras, basking in the glow of their perfect reunion. They had moved on. Lived their lives. Forgotten he was still in prison. Return to what home? He had no home anymore.

Yelena’s expression darkened. Stepping forward, her voice became sharp and commanding. “Caleb! Enough!”

Caleb 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, and 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 couldn’t 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, and after a long pause, he let out a bitter laugh. “So she willingly lied… claimed I was the one driving.” Everything he’d once believed in, everything he’d relied on, had been a carefully constructed illusion. A cold smirk touched his lips. “You guys are really something.”

Yelena’s patience snapped. Seeing him continue to resist, she sighed, her tone turning 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 Caleb’s hand. The sharp edge scraped his palm, the cold metal biting into his skin—a chilling contrast to the bitter 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 finally broke. 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, leaving a thin trail of blood. Yelena’s eyes widened. Caleb wiped the blood away, his expression unreadable. Such a wound was nothing compared to what he’d endured in prison.

He corrected her calmly, his tone almost earnest. “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. She remembered saying them five years ago, when he’d confronted her, confused and hurt. She'd told him to stay away, that she didn’t want a selfish younger brother. That his presence polluted her air.

Caleb turned 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!” With a huff, she spun on her heel, got into the car, and sped off. She never looked back, and didn’t see Caleb clutching his chest, collapsing to his knees, and coughing up blood. “Caleb?”