Chapter 112 112
RYAN
I didn’t go back to the hotel.
I couldn’t.
There was no way I was leaving like that, not after seeing her, not after hearing that announcement and watching everything slip out of my hands again.
I stayed.
I walked around the back of the estate until I found a quiet spot, far from the noise and the lights.
The music from inside still carried faintly, soft but constant, like a reminder that life was still going on without me.
I sat down.
And for the first time since I got here, I let myself breathe.
“What the hell was that?” I muttered, dragging my hands down my face.
Engagement.
That word kept replaying in my head like it was stuck there.
Emily.
Engaged.
It didn’t make sense.
None of it did.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, staring at the ground.
My chest felt tight, like something heavy was sitting on it and refusing to move.
“I’m not done,” I said quietly.
Because I wasn’t.
There was no version of this where I just walked away.
Not from her.
Not from Zara.
I stayed there for a while, watching people move in and out from a distance.
The party didn’t look like it was ending anytime soon, and that alone gave me a little hope.
Good.
That meant I still had time.
I stood up slowly, brushing my hands over my trousers. My body felt tired, but my mind was too restless to stop now.
If I couldn’t go through the front like a guest, then I would find another way.
I started walking back toward the main entrance, my steps slower this time, more careful.
As I moved, I shrugged off my suit jacket, folding it loosely over my arm.
I needed to look less noticeable.
Less… like someone who didn’t belong.
By the time I got closer to the entrance, I had loosened my tie slightly, trying to blend in with the staff moving around.
My heart started picking up again.
This was risky.
But I didn’t care.
I stepped closer.
And then I saw her.
Emily’s mother.
She stood a little away from the crowd, talking to someone, her posture calm, composed.
There was something about her presence that reminded me of Emily, something familiar that made my chest tighten.
This was my chance.
I took a deep breath.
Then another.
And walked toward her.
When I got close enough, I cleared my throat slightly.
She turned.
Her eyes landed on me, and for a second, she just stared like she was trying to place my face.
“Do I know you?” she asked slowly. “You look familiar.”
I swallowed.
“Yes,” I said. “You do.”
She tilted her head slightly.
“I’m Zara’s father.”
The change in her expression was instant.
Her eyes widened just a little, and then something softer replaced it.
“Oh,” she said, almost breathless. “My daughter’s husband—”
She paused.
Then her face shifted.
“Ex-husband,” she corrected.
I nodded once.
“Yes.”
There was a brief silence between us, heavy but not entirely uncomfortable.
She glanced around quickly, like she was making sure no one was paying attention.
“Did Emily invite you?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“No,” I said honestly. “I came on my own.”
Her brows pulled together slightly.
“Why?”
I let out a breath.
“Because I needed to see her,” I said. “I needed to see my daughter.”
Something in her expression softened again, but there was still caution there.
She turned to the person she had been speaking with.
“Excuse me,” she said politely. “I need a moment.”
The person nodded and stepped away.
Then she turned back to me fully, giving me her full attention.
“What is going on?” she asked quietly.
I ran a hand through my hair, my frustration slipping through.
“A lot,” I admitted. “And I don’t even know where to start.”
“Start somewhere,” she said.
I looked at her.
“I need your help,” I said.
She blinked, surprised.
“My help?”
“Yes,” I said. “Please.”
She studied me carefully now, like she was trying to figure out if I was serious.
“I love your daughter,” I said.
The words came out before I could stop them.
Clear.
Honest.
Raw.
“I’m in love with her,” I repeated, my voice lower this time. “And I don’t know what’s going on here, I don’t know what she’s been told or what you’ve been told, but this…” I gestured toward the hall behind us. “This isn’t right.”
She didn’t interrupt me.
She just listened.
“I’m trying,” I continued. “I’ve been trying to fix things between us, but it’s like every time I get close, something pulls her away again.”
My chest tightened.
“And now there’s talk about marriage?” I let out a short, frustrated breath. “To who? For what?”
Her expression shifted slightly, something unreadable passing through her eyes.
“Please,” I said again, softer now. “I just need to talk to her. That’s all I’m asking for.”
For a second, I thought she might agree.
I saw it.
That hesitation.
That softness.
But then—
A voice cut through the moment.
Cold.
Sharp.
“I thought I told you to leave.”
Everything in me stilled.
I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.
But I did anyway.
Vivian Cavendish.
She was standing right behind her daughter now, her presence just as commanding as before, her eyes fixed on me like I had just crossed a line I wasn’t supposed to.
Emily’s mother shifted slightly.
“Mother—” she started.
But the older woman didn’t even look at her.
She stepped forward instead.
Closer to me.
Too close.
“I gave you a warning,” she said calmly.
Her voice wasn’t raised.
But it carried weight.
The kind that made people listen.
The kind that made people obey.
“I didn’t come here to cause trouble,” I said carefully.
Her lips curved slightly.
“That’s exactly what you’re doing.”
I swallowed.
“I just want to see my daughter.”
“And I just told you to leave,” she replied.
There was no emotion in her voice now.
Just authority.
Control.
Emily’s mother looked between us, clearly uncomfortable.
“He just wants to talk—” she tried again.
But Vivian cut her off with a slight lift of her hand.
“Not another word.”
Silence fell instantly.
She stepped even closer to me now, her gaze unwavering.
“I promise you,” she said slowly, “the next time I see your face here—”
She paused.
Just long enough for the weight of her words to settle.
“I will have you locked up.”
My chest tightened.
“For life.”
The air felt heavier.
Colder.
“This is my city,” she continued. “And you do not cross me in my city.”
For the first time since I got here, I felt it.
Not just her power.
But what it could actually do.
Still—
I held her gaze.
Even if it cost me.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said quietly.
Because right now, pushing her wouldn’t help me.
It would only make things worse.
I stepped back slowly.
Then turned.
And walked away.