Chapter 96
Vivian's POV
"She dared to run!"
Donald's roar echoed through Cross Manor. I stood in the hallway, arms crossed, watching my husband pace like a caged animal.
"She actually dared to run away in the middle of the night!"
I was still in shock. Elena—my quiet, obedient daughter—had climbed out a second-story window in the middle of the night. The daughter I thought would endure anything to avoid conflict had chosen complete upheaval instead.
"This is your fault!" Donald whirled on me. "You coddled her, made her think she had choices—"
"She's twenty-one years old, Donald. Of course she has choices."
"She has responsibilities!" His face had gone red. "She's useless! When we actually need her, she runs—"
"You pushed her too hard!" The words burst out before I could stop them. "You locked her in her room. You treated her like a bargaining chip. What did you expect?"
We'd been fighting for over an hour now. The longest, loudest fight of our marriage. And with each passing minute, I felt something inside me cracking—some long-held belief that we were doing the right thing.
I was done. Done with his self-pity, his rage, his willingness to sacrifice our daughter to save his own pride. When had he become this? When had we stopped being a family and become a business transaction?
"You will find her," Donald said, each word deliberate. "You will bring her back. You will make her understand there is no other option."
"Or what?" I met his eyes steadily. "You'll lock her up again? Hit her?"
His jaw worked. "I did what was necessary—"
"You drove her away. Our daughter would rather risk everything—her safety, her future, her family—than marry Damon Vance. Don't you see what that means?"
"It means she's being selfish and short-sighted—"
"It means we failed her." My voice broke. "Maybe she was right to run. Maybe we don't deserve her compliance."
I grabbed my coat and headed for the door.
"Where are you going?"
"Out. And I'm not in a hurry to find her."
I slammed the door before he could respond.
Outside, the morning air was sharp and cold. I took a breath, trying to center myself. That's when I noticed the sleek sports car in our driveway.
Damon. With two bodyguards flanking him.
"Mrs. Cross." He approached with careful politeness. "I was hoping to speak with Elena. Is she home?"
For a moment, I considered lying. But this couldn't stay hidden for long.
"She ran," I said bluntly. "Last night. Climbed out her bedroom window and disappeared."
He went very still. "What?"
I felt a bitter satisfaction at his shock. "My daughter was so desperate to avoid marrying you that she escaped in the middle of the night. She has that gentle, compliant personality, and even she did something this drastic. That should tell you how much she doesn't want to be with you."
His face had paled. "Where—"
"I don't know where she is. And honestly? I hope she stays hidden." I started toward my car, then paused. "So don't overthink it, Damon. Don't assume our Elena actually likes you. I hope your parents will arrange another contract bride for you. Someone more suitable."
I looked back at him one last time. "My Elena is going to marry someone who truly loves her."
Then I drove away, leaving him standing there looking genuinely shaken.
---
Damon's POV
I stood in the Cross family's driveway long after Vivian's car disappeared.
She ran.
The words kept echoing in my head. Elena had actually fled—chosen complete uncertainty—rather than face marrying me.
The humiliation was crushing. But underneath it was something worse.
She has that gentle personality, and even she did something this drastic. That should tell you how much she doesn't want to be with you.
I barely remembered the drive home.
She was that repulsed by me? So repulsed she'd rather have nothing?
I'd assumed she was... okay with it. That her quiet acceptance meant she'd come around eventually.
Vivian's words played on repeat: That should tell you how much she doesn't want to be with you.
When I got home, Mother asked about my trip to Cross Manor. I gave vague answers, not quite lying but not telling the truth either. How could I admit the bride had literally escaped? The shame was unbearable.
But there was something else. A calculation forming in my exhausted brain: if I told them and they called it off, they'd just find someone else. Some stranger I'd have to pretend to care about.
At least with Elena, I knew her. She was familiar. Safe, in her own way.
But she doesn't want you, a voice whispered. She ran away.
I stared at my phone. I wanted to call her, to demand answers. But what would I even say?
Finally, I typed: "Where did you run to?"
I hit send before I could overthink it further.
---
Elena's POV
I was in Caleb's kitchen, fresh from the shower and wearing one of his shirts, when my phone buzzed.
An unsaved number. But I recognized it instantly—I'd deleted it days ago, but some numbers you just know.
Damon.
"Where did you run to?"
I stared at the message, coffee cooling in my hands.
The old Elena would have responded. Would have explained, soothed, made him feel better about the situation.
But I'd promised myself I was done with that.
I set the phone face-down on the counter.
That was answer enough.