Chapter 2
1010 Words
The Cross mansion loomed like a monument to wealth and silence. Emilia sat rigid in one of the velvet chairs in the vast drawing room, her dress still clinging to her like a cruel joke. Hours had passed since the ceremony that never was, yet the satin bodice and trailing veil felt less like garments and more like shackles.
The Cross family had insisted she come here, though whether out of duty or damage control, she couldn’t tell. Cameras swarmed outside the iron gates, their lenses flashing like lightning, hungry for tears and humiliation.
Helena Cross sat opposite her, pristine in pearls and a silk dress that looked more suited for a business luncheon than her son’s abandoned wedding. She regarded Emilia with thinly veiled disdain, her manicured fingers tapping against her teacup.
Richard Cross paced near the fireplace, his face drawn, his phone glued to his ear as he barked instructions to whoever was on the other end. Private investigators, no doubt. Alexander’s disappearance had spread through San Francisco like wildfire, igniting gossip columns and financial pages alike.
Sofia stayed at Emilia’s side, her hand warm on her arm, whispering reassurances. But nothing could soothe the roar of questions in Emilia’s mind.
Why didn’t he call? Did something happen? Or… did he choose this?
Her chest ached, the lace of her gown suddenly suffocating.
Finally, Richard ended his call, turning toward them with grim resolve. “We’ve traced what we can. His credit cards haven’t been used. His car is gone, but there’s no record of it leaving the city. His phone was powered down around dawn.”
Emilia’s heart dropped further with each word. “That doesn’t make sense. He wouldn’t just leave. He wouldn’t…”
Helena’s eyes glinted with something colder than sorrow. “You sound very sure for someone who has known my son for barely two years. Alexander is unpredictable and emotional. Perhaps he realized he wasn’t ready for marriage. It happens; please get over yourself.”
Emilia flinched. “Not my Alex. He promised me. He wanted this as much as I did. He reassured me several times that this was what he wanted.”
Helena arched a brow. “Did he? Or did you simply want to believe he did?”
The words sliced through her, and for a moment, Emilia couldn’t speak. She wanted to scream, to throw the porcelain teacup and let it shatter against the wall, but her body was frozen. She could now see why Alex avoided his mother a lot. He never spoke ill of her, but it seemed many times he was just enduring her as his mother.
Sofia leaned forward, her voice sharp. “Helena, that’s enough. If Alexander ran, it’s your family’s shame, not Emilia’s.”
Richard exhaled heavily, cutting between them before the tension combusted. “Stop. Blame won’t find Alexander.” His gaze softened as it landed on Emilia. “I believe you, Emilia. He loved you. He told me several times how you had made him so happy and a better person. He wouldn’t just… vanish intentionally.”
Emilia clung to his words, but even Richard’s conviction felt fragile.
The silence that followed was broken by the sharp trill of the house phone. Helena answered, her expression tightening as she listened. Without a word, she extended the receiver to Richard.
He frowned, taking it. “This is Richard Cross.”
Emilia’s breath caught as she watched his face pale, his hand gripping the arm of the chair until his knuckles whitened. He muttered something low, then slammed the phone down.
“What is it?” Emilia asked, her voice trembling.
Richard hesitated, as if weighing what he should reveal. Finally, he said, “There was a sighting. Near the docks. A man matching Alexander’s description boarded a private vessel at dawn.”
Helena’s lips curved, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “So he ran? He’s on a yacht while we sit here wringing our hands.”
“No.” Richard shook his head fiercely. “The witness said he wasn’t alone. There were men with him. Men who didn’t look like friends.”
A chill swept over Emilia’s skin. “Men? What kind of men?”
Richard’s silence was answer enough.
Sofia squeezed her hand, whispering, “This doesn’t sound voluntary.”
Emilia’s heart pounded. “Then he’s in danger. We have to—”
Helena cut her off, her voice sharp. “What we have to do is protect the family name. If word spreads that Alexander was taken by criminals, it will seem that the Cross family has become weak—”
Emilia shot to her feet, her gown tangling around her legs, fury igniting in her chest. “He’s not a reputation. He’s your son!”
Helena’s face hardened, but Richard lifted a hand. “Enough. I’ll handle this quietly. We’ll find him.”
But Emilia could read the truth in his eyes. The Cross family didn’t want the police involved. Whatever had happened to Alexander, they intended to bury it in the shadows and deal with it quietly.
Hours later, when the mansion had grown quiet and the press outside thinned, Emilia sat alone in the guest room Helena had offered her. The wedding dress lay crumpled on the floor, the tiara abandoned on the nightstand.
She stared out the window at the fog rolling over the bay, her reflection ghostly against the glass.
Where are you, Alex? Did you leave me… or did someone take you away?
Her hand drifted to her abdomen, a sudden wave of nausea rolling through her. The stress, the grief—it was too much.
But deep inside, another truth whispered. A truth she hadn’t dared voice yet.
She was late.
The realisation struck like a bolt of lightning, her breath catching in her throat.
If Alexander had abandoned her, if he had vanished by choice… He had left more behind than a broken bride.
He had left her carrying the secret of a new life. His seed, an heir or heiress.
- Writer
