The bride who vanished

Chapter 5: the engagement party

By the time the sun set, Jane Pugasol was already gone. No one knew it yet. That was the only advantage she had. And she intended to use every second of it.

“Miss Pugasol, the stylists are ready.” Jane glanced up at the house attendant standing at her door, her expression calm, composed, perfectly in place.

“Give me five minutes,” she said.

“Of course.” The door closed softly behind him. Jane didn’t move immediately.

Her room looked untouched. Immaculate. Exactly as it should be on the night of her engagement celebration. Dresses laid out. Jewelry arranged. Nothing out of place.

Except,

Her wardrobe was lighter, her drawer emptier, her passport missing. Hidden in plain sight. She exhaled slowly, steadying herself. Tonight wasn’t about escape.

Not yet. Tonight was about performance. Because if anyone suspected even for a moment, It would be over before it began.

The ballroom glittered even brighter than it had the night before. If yesterday had been an announcement, tonight was a declaration.

Of power.

Of ownership.

Of inevitability.

Jane stepped inside, every inch of her composed, elegant, untouchable. The perfect bride-to-be.

A ripple moved through the room as heads turned.

“Jane!”

“You look stunning!”

“Absolutely radiant!”

She smiled. Of course, she did.

She moved through the crowd with effortless grace, accepting compliments, exchanging pleasantries, playing her role so well that even she almost believed it. Almost.

“Careful,” a familiar voice murmured beside her. “You’re making this look convincing.”

Jane didn’t flinch. She turned her head slightly.

Tom Wood stood at her side. Close enough that no one would question it. Far enough that he didn’t touch her.

“You should be pleased,” she said lightly. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

His gaze lingered on her face for a moment longer than necessary. “Not quite.”

Her smile didn’t waver.

“Then you should have been more specific in your contract.”

A flicker of something interested, perhaps crossed his expression.

“You read it.”

“I did.”“And yet,” he said softly, “you’re still here.”

Jane met his eyes. Steady, Unyielding.

“For now.” The words were quiet. But they landed.

Tom studied her, something calculating behind his gaze.

“You’re planning something,” he said. It wasn’t an accusation. It was an observation. Jane tilted her head slightly, her expression almost amused.

“You give me too much credit.”

“I don’t think I do.” A beat passed between them. Charged. Measured.

Then…

“Smile,” he murmured.

Jane’s lips curved just as a camera flashed across the room.

Perfect timing. Perfect illusion.

“I always do,” she replied.

The night unfolded exactly as expected.

Speeches.

Toasts.

Carefully curated conversations about partnerships and futures that felt more like transactions than promises.

Jane stood beside Tom when required.

Alone when possible. Watching. Listening. Counting time in seconds, not hours. Every movement mattered. Every glance.

Every word.

She noted the guards at the exits. The staff rotations. The subtle shifts in attention when certain people entered or left the room.

She memorized everything. Because when the moment came, she wouldn’t get a second chance.

“Jane”, Her father’s voice cut through the noise, drawing her attention. He approached with a glass in hand, his expression lighter than it had been the night before. Relieved. Hopeful.

It made something twist uncomfortably in her chest.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“You’ve handled tonight… well.”

She held his gaze. “I told you I would think about it.”

“And?” he asked carefully.

Jane let a small pause stretch between them. Just enough to feel real. Then she smiled.

“I understand what’s at stake,” she said.

Relief flooded his expression, unguarded this time.

“I knew you would,” he said, his voice softening. “You’ve always been strong.”

The words hit harder than they should have. Strong enough to walk away. Her grip tightened slightly around the glass in her hand.

“I need some air,” she said.

“Of course,” he replied easily. “Don’t go too far.”

I already have, she thought.

The terrace doors opened with a soft whisper.

Cool night air brushed against her skin as Jane stepped outside, the noise of the party fading behind her. The city stretched out before her, glittering, alive, indifferent. For a moment, she stood still. Breathing. Listening. Waiting. No footsteps followed. No voice called her back. Good. She moved. Not fast. Not suspicious. Just… purposeful. Down the sidesteps. Along the edge of the garden. Past the first set of lights.

Then Faster. Her heels came off first. Discarded without hesitation. Barefoot now, she moved across the grass, her pulse steady, her breathing controlled. This was it.

No turning back. The gate at the far end wasn’t the main entrance. Less guarded. Less watched.

But not unguarded. Two men. Stationed. Alert.

Jane slowed. Adjusted. Shifted direction slightly, moving toward the shadows instead of the light.

Timing. Everything depended on timing. A car passed outside the gates. Headlights sweeping briefly across the property.

The guards turned, just for a second.

Just enough.

Jane ran. Not wildly, not blindly, precisely.

She slipped through the narrow opening near the side access point, one she had noticed earlier, one she had hoped would remain unsecured.

It had. For now. Her heart pounded as she crossed the threshold. One step. Two.

Then, she was outside. No alarms, no shouting, no one chasing her. Yet.

Jane didn’t stop. She didn’t look back. She moved down the darkened street, disappearing into the quiet edges of the night, her breath steady despite the storm inside her chest.

Gone.

She was gone.

Inside the ballroom, the music continued. Laughter, Conversation, Illusion.

Until,

“Have you seen Jane?” The question passed lightly at first.

Then again.

And again.

Her father frowned, scanning the room.

“She stepped out,” someone said.

Tom Wood didn’t speak. He simply set his glass down. And walked toward the terrace.

The night air met him in silence.

Empty. Still. Wrong.

His gaze moved once, slow, precise, taking in everything.

The untouched railing.

The open path.

The absence.

A faint shift in the grass below.

Barely visible.

But enough.

Tom’s expression didn’t change. Didn’t harden. Didn’t c***k. It settled into something colder.

Something certain. Behind him, hurried footsteps approached.

“Mr. Tom, she’s not….”

“I know,” he said. Calm. Controlled. Final.

His gaze lingered on the dark stretch beyond the gates.

Where she had run. Where she thought she had escaped. A slow breath left him. Not frustration.

Not anger. Recognition.

Then…

“Find her.” Two words. Quiet. Absolute.

Because Jane Pugasol had just made the only move that mattered.

And Tom Wood… never lost.