His Smokescreen Is Now the Woman He Can’t Have Chapter 06

His Smokescreen Is Now the Woman He Can’t Have Chapter 06

Caleb’s hand clamped around my wrist like an iron vise, nearly crushing the bone. The dorm fell deathly silent. Everyone stared at me, their eyes filled with suspicion and a hint of anticipation, as if waiting for a show.

“Elara Vance,” he repeated my name, “you’d better explain yourself.”

Isabelle was still sobbing on the floor, her cries winding Caleb’s nerves tighter and tighter. Her friends gathered around her, glaring at me.

“Elara, how could you be so vicious? Isabelle just cut her leg, and you put something in the bandage!”

“Talk! What did you put in there?”

Faced with their accusations, I didn’t struggle. My expression didn’t change. I simply lifted my eyes and looked calmly into Caleb’s furious gaze.

“I don’t know what’s in it,” I said steadily. “But if Cadet Davenport believes there is something wrong with this roll of gauze, and it has already caused her further injury, then this is a medical supply safety incident.”

Caleb’s frown deepened, as if he didn’t understand my meaning.

I continued in the same flat tone. “According to West Point regulations, any situation that may endanger a cadet’s safety must be reported immediately. I suggest we seal this bloodstained gauze as evidence and send Cadet Davenport to the infirmary at once. Let the military physician examine her wound and test the gauze to determine what this so-called hard object is.”

I paused, my gaze falling on Isabelle’s now-bloodless face.

“That will ensure she receives the most professional treatment and also clear this matter up, won’t it? If I really did tamper with it, I am willing to accept the full judgment of the Honor Committee.”

The air seemed to freeze.

Isabelle’s sobs stopped abruptly. She looked at me in disbelief, panic flashing in her eyes. The roommates who had been shouting at me just moments before fell silent.

My proposal was reasonable, logical, and perfectly in line with academy procedure. It was calm, direct, and left no room for escape.

Of course Isabelle wouldn’t dare go. She knew perfectly well there was nothing in the bandage. Her scream had been pure improvisation.

“I… I’m fine now…” She scrambled up from the floor, forcing a smile that was uglier than her tears. “Maybe… maybe the wound just hurt so much that I got nervous and imagined it…”

“Imagined it?” Caleb frowned at her. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure! Really sure!” Isabelle nodded frantically, her tone anxious. “I overreacted. I’m sorry… I made everyone misunderstand Elara…”

At her words, the others looked away, embarrassed.

Caleb stood there, his expression shifting from pale to dark. He looked at me, and for the first time, a complex emotion I couldn’t name appeared in those eyes that had always looked down on me. After a long moment, he finally managed two words in a low voice.

“I’m sorry.”

It was the second time I had heard him say those words.

The first was during our freshman year. An important set of his tactical notes had gone missing, and everyone said I was the last person seen near his desk. Isabelle had sworn she saw me sneaking around. He had confronted me just like this. Only after I insisted on checking the surveillance footage did they discover that the real thief was another female cadet who had a crush on him.

That time, he had also said, “I’m sorry.”

I still remembered my reaction then. My eyes had gone red, and my heart had pounded, but I’d still managed a breezy smile. “I don’t want your apology. Caleb, if you really feel bad, why don’t you just give yourself to me?”

He had blushed and turned away.

I had been happy for a week over that one moment of flustered embarrassment.

Caleb probably remembered it now, too. His eyes flickered, as if bracing for me to say something in front of everyone that he wouldn’t know how to handle.

But this time, I just looked at him expressionlessly and replied lightly, “It’s fine.”

Then I picked up my backpack, turned, and walked out of the dorm without a backward glance.

I could feel his gaze on my back the entire time.

He must have realized it, too.

Some things had changed completely.

—

A few days later was the graduation ball.

It marked the end of four years of academy life and was the final formal gathering before most cadets departed for their new posts. I hadn’t wanted to go, but my roommates insisted it was our last group event. Thinking that my withdrawal paperwork would be official tomorrow and I would finally be free of these people, I eventually agreed.

I hadn’t realized our company was co-hosting with Caleb’s elite cadet company. The banquet hall was brightly lit, filled with cadets in formal attire chatting over drinks.

I found a corner and sat down, feeling completely out of place.

“Elara, has your assignment been finalized?” a classmate I was vaguely familiar with asked.

The question immediately drew several curious glances.

I shook my head and answered truthfully, “Not yet.”

Of course it hadn’t. I wasn’t going to any unit. My next stop was Boston, to the MIT School of Architecture.

But to them, my answer meant something entirely different.

A soft, amused scoff came from nearby. It was Isabelle, her arm looped through Caleb’s, surrounded by a group of top-ranked cadets.

“Not yet?” A girl beside her deliberately raised her voice, her face a mask of mockery. “Elara, assignments were confirmed last week. The only ones still without a placement are the ones whose grades were so bad that no unit wanted them. They just have to wait for the system to dump them somewhere no one else will go.”

“I heard last year a cadet like that got sent to a radar station in Alaska. Didn’t see another soul for three years.”

“That’s awful. But for someone from the Vance family, any place that’s willing to take her is good enough, right?”

Laughter rippled through the group.

Isabelle elegantly sipped her champagne and made a show of quieting them. “All right, that’s enough. Elara did try. At worst, she can just think of a remote posting as a character-building experience.”

As she spoke, she looked at me, her eyes filled with the pity and condescension of a winner.

Caleb stood beside her. He didn’t join in, but he didn’t stop them either. He just kept looking at me, as if searching for something on my face.

But I couldn’t be bothered to explain.

Tomorrow, when my withdrawal application and MIT acceptance letter appeared together in the cadet announcement system, the truth would be clear. By then, I would already be on a plane to Boston.

With that thought, even their ridicule seemed insignificant.

Just then, a tall cadet from the football team staggered over to me. He’d clearly had too much to drink and had been unsuccessfully pursuing me for two years.

“Elara,” he slurred, his face flushed as he slammed a glass of red punch on the table in front of me, “I know you’ve always looked down on me. But I’ve liked you for four years. You have to drink this. If you don’t, you’re embarrassing me.”

The people around us immediately started egging him on. The punch was a notorious staple of West Point dances, a mix of hard liquor and fruit juice with a powerful delayed kick.

I was cornered and about to refuse.

Suddenly, a hand with long, distinct fingers reached out from my side and pressed firmly on the glass.

I turned in shock.

Under the lights, Caleb stood beside me, his face dark.

“You’re allergic to aspirin, and you’re going to drink punch?” His voice wasn’t loud, but everyone nearby heard it. “Elara, do you have a death wish?”

The corner fell silent.

Everyone froze. The football player’s face went even redder as he stood there, speechless.

How did he know?

I had never told anyone I was severely allergic to aspirin. And a cheap flavoring agent in the party punch happened to contain a similar compound.

Caleb didn’t look at me.

He lifted the glass, turned to the stunned cadet, and said coolly, “I’ll drink it for her.”

Then he tilted his head back and drained the glass. He set the empty cup back on the table, took a glass of plain water from a passing server, and shoved it into my hand.

He lowered his head, his tone still a command.

“Drink this.”