Chapter 3
1293 Words
I needed to escape.
I need to get out. I need to disappear from everyone in this room—everyone who thinks they can control me like some lifeless doll. And I know, without a doubt, that there’s only one person who could possibly save me.
—Abcde
Damn that man. Loud, dramatic, infuriating… and somehow, the only person I trusted to save me from this disaster.
Moments later, a knock sounded at my door. Before I could even respond, uniformed maids and men in black suits flooded into the room. Their movements were precise, disciplined, and oddly calm like they did every single day.
“Good evening, Ms. Zyhra Angelique Ymor,” one of them greeted me. Polite. Formal. With a hint of… amusement?
I blinked at him. He looked familiar. Somewhere I’d seen him before. Maybe a gala? A party? Or maybe it was just my imagination. I forced a polite smile. They approached me with a small velvet box. My heart skipped a beat—not in excitement, but in sheer panic. One of the men opened it, revealing a ring that could probably pay off a small country’s debts.
I blinked. I stared. I blinked again. The diamond—no, the diamond cluster was massive. It practically screamed, I’m expensive. I’m untouchable. You don’t deserve me. The band gleamed like it had been forged in sunlight, and even from a distance, it looked like something out of a museum.
An engagement ring? Right now? Seriously? And not just any engagement ring—a ring that could easily blind someone if it caught the chandelier’s light just right. There were no flowers, no “romantic surprise,” no heartfelt speech. Just… here. Take it. Wear it. End of story. I pinched my lips together to stop myself from laughing at how ridiculous it all was. Honestly, I almost wanted to throw it back at them. “Oh, thanks. Very subtle. I love how zero romance went into this. Truly, a classic.” But sarcasm wouldn’t help me now.
I let one of them slip it onto my finger. It fit perfectly, naturally. Of course, it did. Nothing about this situation made sense anymore, and yet, somehow, the ring felt heavy, not because of its material, but because of the weight of what it meant. I flexed my hand, the diamond catching the light. I glanced at my own reflection. My cheeks were flushed, my hair perfectly in place, my lips subtly glossed. I looked like a socialite at a charity ball, not a girl who was moments away from outrunning five burly men in black suits.
And yet… I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Fine,” I muttered sarcastically to myself. “If I’m going to be kidnapped, I might as well look like I belong in a magazine while I do it.”
A pair of pointed stiletto heels was slid onto my feet. I wanted to scream. Or laugh. Or cry. Probably all three. Every movement was precise, almost robotic, as though I were a mannequin being prepared for display. My mind spun. What was happening? Could it be… today? The wedding? I shook my head. No. It couldn’t be. Dad said next month. But what if—what if they didn’t care about his timeline?
I swallowed. I followed them outside and nearly fainted. There were more men waiting. Five lined up on each side of the hallway, three behind me, and more in front. It looked more like a military escort than a hotel outing. My stomach churned.
She must be a very… serious person.
We approached the elevator. I paused suddenly. They all froze around me. “Is there a problem, Ms. Zyhra?” one of the men asked.
“I… need to use the restroom,” I lied quickly.
My mind raced: if I can stall long enough, maybe Abcde can get here.
One of the men called someone—“Marcus.” A tall man stepped forward immediately. “We need to return inside. Ms. Zyhra Angelique Ymor needs to use the restroom.”
“Do you really have to use my full name every time?” I muttered. Their insistence was ruining my plan. “Isn’t there one downstairs?” I asked.
“There is, Miss, but the nearest is inside the suite,” Marcus explained politely.
I drew in a deep breath. “Fine. Lead the way,” I said, trying to appear calm, though my heart was racing. Inside the suite, I slipped away and entered the restroom. Let’s see if she really waits for me.
Ten minutes passed.
Twenty.
Knock after knock.
I ignored them and texted Abcde.
Don’t leave. Please. Hurry.
Sleep tempted me. Honestly? Maybe I could just pretend to be unconscious.
Then—knock knock knock. “Ms. Zyhra Angelique Ymor,” a voice called. “If you don’t come out, we’ll open the door ourselves.”
The door opened anyway. Marcus entered with two other men. Before I could react, they lifted me like I weighed nothing.
“What are you doing?! Put me down!” I screamed. They didn’t listen.
I kicked. I struggled. I yelled. Nothing worked. They carried me into the elevator. My plan was dead. Officially.
“I’ll behave!” I pleaded. “Please! I’ll be good!” No response. One of the men whispered to Marcus. Marcus nodded. Finally, I was set down.
“Ms. Zyhra Angelique—” I slapped my hand over his mouth.
“Hep, hep, hep. Do you really need my full name every time? ” I said. The others struggled not to laugh. I glared at them. We stood in silence, waiting for the elevator. All I have to do is to focus on my escape. I planned my next move.
The elevator chimed, and the doors began to open.
I inhaled sharply...
—and ran.
The men shouted behind me. I kicked off my heels, running barefoot.
The glass doors were near.
Almost.
When security blocked me.
I ran the other way. Another blockade.
Hands grabbed my arms. Firm. Unyielding, then I froze. The crowd parted slowly.
And then… she appeared.
Tall, elegant, with an air of quiet authority that made everyone around her seem small. Her hair cascaded perfectly over her shoulders, her heels clicking on the marble as she approached. She moved like a goddess, every step precise, deliberate, as if the world bent towards her without question.
She walked like she owned the world—goddess-like, perfect, elegant. My heart raced for no reason I could explain.
She stopped before me. Annoyance on her face. She sighed, then knelt down, picked up my heels, and slid them onto my feet.
“Next time, don’t run barefoot. You could get hurt,” she said. Her voice. Why did it sound… familiar?
“Let’s go,” she added softly. I was about to follow when—
“Zyhra!” Abcde. Finally. Being held back by guards, struggling to reach me.
She took my hand. Her grip was warm. Her scent was…
— intoxicating. What is happening to me?
As we passed Abcde, he grabbed my arm. “Let her go,” he snapped.
“I won’t let go of what’s mine,” she said, pulling me toward her.
“She’s not yours!” Abcde shouted. “She’s my girlfriend. Let her go!” Girlfriend? Since when?!
“She’s my future wife,” she said calmly. “So you’re the one who should let go.”
The chaos, the running, the hands grabbing me—it all collided in my chest.
I realized something terrifying: escaping was one thing. Running wasn’t the hardest part.
Choosing might be.
- Writer
