His Staged Abduction, My Broken Vows - Chapter 2: Chapter 2
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Emeric's disappointment flashed across his face for just a second before disappearing entirely. His expression softened as he looked at me.
"It's alright, Flora. As long as I have you, it doesn't matter if we never have children. If we can't… then I'll just spoil you like my own little girl, okay?"
He brushed a strand of hair from my face. "You must be exhausted. Get some rest. Tomorrow's Mom's birthday—we'll have to go back to the estate."
With that, he pressed a tender kiss to my forehead, dimmed the lights to a warm glow, and slipped quietly out of the room.
A few moments later, the soft strains of my favorite song floated in from the living room.
It was always like this—the little things, the tiny gestures. Emeric never missed a beat, as if he could read my mind.
To go to such lengths for a woman he could never have… to lavish such care on a woman he didn't even love. I never knew love could be so deep, so selfless—and so painful.
Because that love was never meant for me.
My eyes flicked to the email on my screen—the invitation from San Mirren University that had arrived two weeks ago.
Without thinking twice, I typed out my acceptance. Then I booked a flight for three days later.
When it was done, I let out a slow, quiet breath.
If that love wasn't mine to keep… then I'd walk away.
The next morning, Emeric was already gone.
Breakfast sat neatly on the table, a handwritten note beside it:
Baby, I've gone ahead to the estate. Eat something. Don't worry—I'll stand by you in front of Mom and Dad.
I scanned the apartment, my gaze landing on the empty space in the living room.
The cello—always there, always untouched—was gone.
A thick layer of dust marked where it had once stood. I grabbed a mop from the washroom to clean it up.
But as I swept the mop across the floor, I noticed something—one of the tiles was slightly raised. Emeric and I had overseen every detail of this apartment's renovation. A flaw like this was impossible.
Frowning, I knelt and pried at the loose tile. Beneath it lay a small, carefully wrapped voice recorder.
I pressed play.
A deep, mournful cello melody filled the air—and then Emeric's voice, rough with emotion:
"Marie… today's your wedding day. My heart is breaking. Consider this my gift to you."
"Marie, she asked me to play for her again. But I promised you—I'd only ever play for you. She doesn't deserve it."
"Marie, she's so good to me… but I don't regret what I did. As long as you're happy, I'd do anything."
And then I understood.
No wonder he always found excuses when I begged him to play for me. That cello in our home—it was never for me. It was always for Marie.
And now he'd taken it. Probably to the estate… to play for her.
The Jacob brothers—one wore his heart on his sleeve, the other buried it deep. But in the end, both belonged to Marie.
As I made my way to the estate, the memories of the kidnapping crashed over me like a tidal wave.
Three days and three nights of hell.
By the time they found me, my chest was nothing but shredded flesh. The blood had dried, fusing my clothes to my skin. When the doctors peeled them away, they took chunks of me with them.
Even now, just remembering made cold sweat prickle down my spine.
Everything that happened in those three days had been recorded—spread across Mirrencourt before the sun even set.
To this day, I still wake up screaming.
"It's alright, Flora. As long as I have you, it doesn't matter if we never have children. If we can't… then I'll just spoil you like my own little girl, okay?"
He brushed a strand of hair from my face. "You must be exhausted. Get some rest. Tomorrow's Mom's birthday—we'll have to go back to the estate."
With that, he pressed a tender kiss to my forehead, dimmed the lights to a warm glow, and slipped quietly out of the room.
A few moments later, the soft strains of my favorite song floated in from the living room.
It was always like this—the little things, the tiny gestures. Emeric never missed a beat, as if he could read my mind.
To go to such lengths for a woman he could never have… to lavish such care on a woman he didn't even love. I never knew love could be so deep, so selfless—and so painful.
Because that love was never meant for me.
My eyes flicked to the email on my screen—the invitation from San Mirren University that had arrived two weeks ago.
Without thinking twice, I typed out my acceptance. Then I booked a flight for three days later.
When it was done, I let out a slow, quiet breath.
If that love wasn't mine to keep… then I'd walk away.
The next morning, Emeric was already gone.
Breakfast sat neatly on the table, a handwritten note beside it:
Baby, I've gone ahead to the estate. Eat something. Don't worry—I'll stand by you in front of Mom and Dad.
I scanned the apartment, my gaze landing on the empty space in the living room.
The cello—always there, always untouched—was gone.
A thick layer of dust marked where it had once stood. I grabbed a mop from the washroom to clean it up.
But as I swept the mop across the floor, I noticed something—one of the tiles was slightly raised. Emeric and I had overseen every detail of this apartment's renovation. A flaw like this was impossible.
Frowning, I knelt and pried at the loose tile. Beneath it lay a small, carefully wrapped voice recorder.
I pressed play.
A deep, mournful cello melody filled the air—and then Emeric's voice, rough with emotion:
"Marie… today's your wedding day. My heart is breaking. Consider this my gift to you."
"Marie, she asked me to play for her again. But I promised you—I'd only ever play for you. She doesn't deserve it."
"Marie, she's so good to me… but I don't regret what I did. As long as you're happy, I'd do anything."
And then I understood.
No wonder he always found excuses when I begged him to play for me. That cello in our home—it was never for me. It was always for Marie.
And now he'd taken it. Probably to the estate… to play for her.
The Jacob brothers—one wore his heart on his sleeve, the other buried it deep. But in the end, both belonged to Marie.
As I made my way to the estate, the memories of the kidnapping crashed over me like a tidal wave.
Three days and three nights of hell.
By the time they found me, my chest was nothing but shredded flesh. The blood had dried, fusing my clothes to my skin. When the doctors peeled them away, they took chunks of me with them.
Even now, just remembering made cold sweat prickle down my spine.
Everything that happened in those three days had been recorded—spread across Mirrencourt before the sun even set.
To this day, I still wake up screaming.
End of His Staged Abduction, My Broken Vows Chapter 2. Continue reading Chapter 3 or return to His Staged Abduction, My Broken Vows book page.