Runaway Bride, Found Love

*Choose yourself.* My grandmother's words were a command, a permission slip I never knew I needed. But how? The

nereal purity. The white dress in the mirror was a beautiful shroud. I needed proof. I needed a reason so

n I rem

aby m

him if he woke up from his nap in the spare room. In the rush of wedding preparations, I'd forgotten all about it. I had tossed the parent unit into my overnight bag, but the oth

It was a crazy, d

my ribs. My fingers closed around the cool plastic of the receiver. I switched it on, the stat

ed. A voice filtered through, d

, Mark? I don't want her catatonic, j

lungs in a painf

It will just take the edge off her hysterics. We'll put it in her pre-ceremony champagne. She'll think it's just the

clinical, cold, utterly monstrous. They were talking ab

id you confirm with the caterer? The 'Happy Birthday Leo' banner

with emotion' and has retired for the evening, the staff will switch everything over. Her boring wedding rec

ici

managed with ruthless efficiency. They weren't just looking past me; they were actively plotting to erase me from my own celebration. The ca

n feeling, powerful and terrifyingly clean. For years, my emotions had been a

ies on a side table. Without a second thought

hattered against the marble floor. Water and flowers sprayed across the

ext room, the sound of chairs scrapi

ins tearing at the intricate updo. I grabbed my grandmother's box, the smooth

camisole I'd worn to the hotel that morning, discarded on a chair. Over them, I pulled

s and obligations. I left it. I was severing everything. My purse

ng. I spun around, spotting a narrow door I hadn't not

elled of dust and industrial cleaner. The concrete was cold

from the gilded cage on the penthouse floor. The ride felt like an eternity. Every flo

disheveled woman in a silk robe and leggings, her hair a mess, her feet bare, clutching a small wooden box

e city-traffic, sirens, the chatter of a hundred conversations-hit me all at once. Rain had begun to fall, a fin

s finding me in the rearview mirror, his ex

ill clutching in my hand. The silver letter

d, my voice hoarse but ste

paid the driver with the emergency hundred-dollar bill my grandmothe

th that pierced the grey Veridia sky, scraping against the clouds. It radiated power

of Mark's casual cruelty, propelled m

A severe-looking receptionist with a sharp black bob looked up a

asked, her voice dri

lian Thorne," I sai

ave an ap

. "But it's

nts," she said, her tone final. She was already

aw a bank of elevators behind her, one wit

e!" she shouted, her voice e

ed the buttons, my eyes landing on the highest one, marke

ls. When the doors opened, they did so onto a spacious, minimalist reception area. A young man, a personal assistan

go in there!" he yelpe

shed the heavy door

men in dark, expensive suits were seated around a massive mahogany conferen

at seemed molded to his frame. His dark hair was cut short, ruthlessly neat. His face was all sharp angles and severe l

ery eye in the room was on m

rpet. My hand was steady as I slapped my grandmother's business card down on the poli

from the card and met mine. They were inte

oice ringing with a clarity that surprised me. "I need to

eeling back every layer of my desperation and rage to see the machinery working underneath. A lon