Chapter 310 - 0310: Live For Yourself

Chapter 310: Chapter 0310: Live For Yourself

Elena’s Point Of View

The silence that followed Heather’s words felt heavy, like the air right before a thunderstorm. I stared at her, my vision blurring again as fresh tears threatened to spill. I frowned, wiping my nose with the back of my hand, feeling incredibly small in my own massive living room.

The space around me seemed to expand, swallowing me whole, as if the walls themselves were retreating from my misery. Even the familiar scent of vanilla candles couldn’t comfort me now; it only reminded me of all the quiet evenings I’d spent in this room pretending I was fine.

"Be serious, Heather," I croaked, my voice sounding like it had been dragged over gravel. Each word scraped against my throat. "This isn’t a movie. This is my life. It’s a mess."

Heather shifted on the couch, pulling one leg under her and looking me dead in the eye. Something in her expression changed... the playfulness faded, replaced by the fierce protectiveness I’d seen countless times throughout our childhood. It was the same look she’d worn when she’d confronted our mother at my wedding, the same intensity she’d shown when she’d helped me pack my things to leave Graham. Even now, years later, that look could undo me in an instant, stripping away every defense I’d built.

"I am being serious, sis. Dead serious. But you have to admit, this is a lot to process." She paused, choosing her words carefully, her fingers drumming against her knee in that familiar nervous habit. "I mean, think about it. This Jaxx guy... you’ve known each other since you were teenagers. He was the one who gave you your very first heartbreak. The ’boxing boy’ Lexy used to whisper about when we’d stay up late painting our nails and talking about boys."

A sad smile crossed her face at the memory, one that softened the sharp edges of the moment. "And now, ten years later, after you finally get free of that Sinclair cage, you find out he’s the younger brother of your shitty ex-husband?" She shook her head in disbelief, her dark curls bouncing with the movement. "Hollywood really needs to learn from this. This would make a blockbuster. People would pay twenty dollars just for the popcorn to watch this drama unfold."

I let out a wet, jagged sound that was half-sob, half-laugh. The absurdity of it all hit me like a wave. It was so ridiculous that if I read it in a book, I’d probably throw it across the room for being "unrealistic." But it was my reality - messy, complicated, and painfully real. Life had a cruel sense of humor, it seemed, and I was apparently its favorite punchline.

"I know," I sighed, leaning my head back against the cushion and staring at the ceiling. The chandelier above me blurred into a constellation of light through my tears. My chest felt tight, constricted by the weight of everything I’d been carrying. "I know how it sounds. But Heather... I lashed out at him. I mean, I really let him have it."

My throat tightened at the memory of his face, the way his jaw had clenched, the flash of hurt in those green eyes before he’d masked it. The image refused to leave me; it played on a loop every time I closed my eyes. "Looking back at that afternoon in the office, I think I might have overdone it. The way I looked at him, the things I said... I feel like I poured a decade’s worth of anger on the one person who actually stepped up for me. After everything he did. Saving me from Sebastian, getting me the evidence against Graham... I acted like a crazy bitch."

"Elena..." Heather started, reaching toward me with concern etched across her features, but I cut her off, the words tumbling out of me like a landslide.

"No, listen! I know he lied. I know he kept his name from me, but I was angry beyond reason." My hands clenched into fists in my lap, nails digging into my palms hard enough to leave marks. "I didn’t even stop to think if I was hurting him. I didn’t think about his side of the story. I was just... blinded. I was blinded by the pain, the grief, and all that hurt that’s been sitting in my chest since I was eighteen."

I drew a shaky breath, my chest aching with the weight of my confession. The words kept coming, unstoppable now, as if a dam inside me had finally cracked open after years of holding back the flood. "I took everything Graham did to me, everything Sebastian did, and I threw it all at Jaxx because he was standing right there. I poured it all on the wrong person. He became the target for years of accumulated rage that had nothing to do with him."

By now, the tears were falling freely again, hot and stinging, leaving wet tracks down my cheeks. My shoulders shook so hard the glass of water on the side table rattled against the wood. I felt like a monster. A wounded, lashing-out monster who had hurt the one person who didn’t deserve it.

The realization carved itself into my bones, settling there with a permanence that made me want to curl into myself and disappear. How had I become this person? Someone who weaponized pain instead of processing it? Someone who struck out at the people trying to help her?

Heather remained silent for what felt like an eternity. She simply watched me, her expression soft yet firm, as if she were carefully weighing each word before allowing it to leave her lips. The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken understanding and years of shared history. Finally, she reached out and took my hand, her fingers squeezing mine with such deliberate pressure that I had no choice but to meet her gaze.

"Elena, listen to me," she said, her voice dropping into that calm, grounding tone she reserved for moments when things spiraled out of control... when I’d nearly lost the company to Graham’s vindictive legal maneuvers. "First of all, you are no crazy bitch. Don’t ever say that about yourself again." Her jaw tightened with conviction, and for a moment I saw a flash of the fierce little girl she’d once been, always ready to fight battles far too big for her.

"You’re human, and you reacted in a way most people with your history would have. It might not have been the ’best’ way to express your anger, but that wasn’t Elena the CEO speaking. That was your hurt speaking. That was the sixteen-year-old girl who got her heart crushed, finally discovering that the person who did it was related to the man who just tried to destroy her again."

I tried to pull my hand away, suddenly feeling too exposed, too vulnerable under her penetrating gaze, but she wouldn’t let go. Her grip remained firm, anchoring me to the moment, refusing to let me retreat into the familiar safety of emotional distance.

"No, listen to me," she insisted, her eyes searching mine with an intensity that made my chest tighten and my breath come shallow. "We grew up together, Elena. Me and Dave... we saw everything. We witnessed what you went through at the hands of our mother." Her voice wavered slightly, betraying the pain those memories still caused her, a pain I realized she had carried in silence just as I had.

"We saw the way you stood in front of us, taking the hits, taking the screams, absorbing every ounce of her rage just so we wouldn’t have to. You risked your entire childhood for us, sis. You became our mother, our father, and our sister all in one. You carried us on your back when you were just a child yourself - a child who desperately needed protection but never received it."

I sobbed, the sound breaking the quiet of the room like glass shattering against stone. The memories came flooding back in vivid, painful detail. I remembered those nights, the gnawing hunger that kept us awake, our stomachs cramping and empty. I remembered the paralyzing fear when we heard her footsteps approaching, never knowing if she’d be drunk, angry, or both.

I remembered the crushing weight of responsibility that sat on my small shoulders like stones, growing heavier with each passing year. I remembered counting the seconds between her shouts, praying they would stop before they reached us.

I remembered the way I had to pretend I wasn’t scared, forcing my face into a mask of calm so they wouldn’t cry, so they wouldn’t lose the last shred of hope they had left. Even now, I could recall the exact feeling of my younger siblings’ small bodies pressed against mine as we huddled together in the dark, waiting for the storm to pass, their tiny hands gripping my shirt as though I alone could keep the world from ending.

"You grew up way faster than your age, Elena," Heather continued, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears that caught the afternoon light streaming through the window. Her voice cracked slightly, revealing the depth of emotion she usually kept carefully hidden behind her professional demeanor. "That alone caused a huge dent in your soul. A wound that never properly healed. Because if our own mother... the person who was supposed to love us most, could treat you like that, what hope did you have for strangers? What hope did you have for anyone?"

She paused, swallowing hard, as though gathering courage for what came next. "I know you grew up with that wall around you, brick by brick, year by year. You refused to let anyone in, and then the one boy you actually liked humiliated you in front of everyone. That left another dent, another scar. Your hurt is validated, Elena. You aren’t ’crazy’ for blowing up. You were reacting to a lifetime of betrayal, to decades of swallowing your pain and pretending everything was fine."

She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that somehow felt louder than a shout, more powerful than any proclamation. "And then Graham. That absolute shit-head of a husband." Anger flashed across her features, raw and unfiltered, a mirror of the fury I’d buried for years. "He betrayed you, lied to you, and manipulated you for years, all while wearing that charming smile that fooled everyone. He brought a pregnant mistress into your home! Into the sanctuary you’d worked so hard to build, the one place that was supposed to be yours." Her free hand clenched into a fist, knuckles whitening with restrained rage.

"And I know... I know the only reason you stayed for so long, putting up with that Sinclair poison, enduring their condescension and cruelty, was because of us. I know Mom threatened you, Elena. I know she told you that if you left Graham, she’d make our lives a living hell or pull our funding, destroy everything we’d worked for. I know you sacrificed your happiness, your dignity, your very sense of self to keep us safe."

I looked at her, shocked, my breath catching in my throat. The revelation hit me like a physical blow. I didn’t think they knew. I thought I’d hidden the threats well enough, buried them beneath smiles and reassurances, beneath the carefully constructed image of a woman who had everything under control.

The realization that she’d seen through my carefully constructed facade made me feel simultaneously exposed and understood in a way I’d never experienced before. It was terrifying and liberating all at once, like standing naked in a storm and finally feeling the rain instead of flinching from it.

"But you don’t have to worry about us anymore," Heather said, her grip on my hand tightening until I could feel her pulse against mine, steady and strong. "We’re grown now. We’re stable, successful, independent. We see you, Elena. We see the pain you’ve been carrying like a shield, using it to protect everyone but yourself. We see the sacrifices you’ve made, the pieces of yourself you’ve given away until there was almost nothing left."

She took a shaky breath, her composure wavering for the first time since she’d started speaking. "I want you to be selfish this time, Elena. For the first time in your life, I want you to stop thinking about what Dave needs, or what I need, or what the company needs, or what society expects. I want you to stop being the family’s martyr, the eternal sacrifice on everyone else’s altar. You’ve earned the right to think about yourself."

She reached up, wiping a stray tear from my cheek with her thumb, her touch gentle and deliberate, filled with a tenderness that made my heart ache. A small, sad smile played at the corners of her lips... a smile that held both sorrow for what I’d endured and hope for what I might become if I could finally let myself be free.

"Live for yourself," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Just this once, live for yourself. Choose what makes you happy, not what keeps everyone else comfortable. You deserve that, Elena. You’ve always deserved that."

For a long moment, neither of us spoke, the weight of her words settling over the room like a soft, unfamiliar warmth, and for the first time in longer than I could remember, I let myself believe her.