His Staged Abduction, My Broken Vows - Chapter 7: Chapter 7
You are reading His Staged Abduction, My Broken Vows, Chapter 7: Chapter 7. Read more chapters of His Staged Abduction, My Broken Vows.
To Emeric, Flora had always been like a stray puppy—loyal to a fault, rushing to his side the moment he crooked a finger.
All it took was a careless gesture, a meaningless trick, and she'd come running, eyes full of gratitude.
She never seemed to notice his heart wasn't in it.
Or maybe she did—and just didn't care.
It had never crossed his mind that the stray who depended on him might one day vanish from that familiar street corner.
Well, that wasn't entirely true.
There had been nights—too many to count—when he'd watched Flora's sleeping form and wondered: What if she just… left? No warning, no scene. Maybe that would be better for both of them.
But he could never risk it. The moment he loosened his grip, she might become a threat to Marie. The weight of it all exhausted him.
Still, as long as Marie stayed by his brother's side—living as Mrs. Jacob—it was enough. Every time someone addressed her that way at a banquet, she'd shoot him that knowing, teasing glance—
Their little secret.
Emeric shook his head sharply, as if trying to dislodge the thought. An inexplicable unease slithered under his skin.
There was a time when these stolen moments had been enough to make his life with Flora bearable. Now, they only grated on his nerves.
He never imagined her disappearance would unravel him like this. Yet here he was, unable to focus on anything except the desperate hope that Pierre would call with news—that she'd been found.
8:43 AM
Fading Love, Fading Hate, A Forever Farewell
The thought made it impossible to sit still. Emeric stood, brushed off his clothes, and sped home, his nerves frayed the entire drive.
He wanted—needed—to walk in and find everything as it should be: Flora waiting at the door, his favorite meal already prepared.
But the house was silent. No movement, no warmth.
Not even bothering to turn off the engine, he stormed inside.
The moment he stepped in, cold dread washed over him.
The massive wedding portrait that once dominated the living room? Gone. Just a blank white wall in its place.
Panic surged as he tore through the villa.
But it was empty. No clothes, no jewelry, no photos. Even the little tote bag she took to the market had disappeared.
As if she'd never existed.
As if she'd never been part of his life.
Emeric collapsed onto the couch, drained. He pulled out his phone and dialed her number—over and over.
A hundred calls. Not one went through.
He was breaking.
With a snarl, he hurled the phone across the room. As it shattered against the floor, his gaze caught on something—a slightly raised tile.
His breath hitched.
That tile.
He'd secretly told the renovators to leave it loose while Flora was away.
The last remaining piece of Marie in this house.
Emeric lunged forward, pulse roaring in his ears. And there it was—waiting beneath the tile.
The recorder. The one holding his darkest secrets.
Rage exploded through him. He kicked the tile with brutal force, sending shards flying. A jagged piece sliced into his skin.
Then, as if possessed, he raised his hand—
And slapped himself.
Twice.
For the first time, he felt like a complete bastard.
Flora had discovered everything. And instead of screaming, crying, fighting—she'd just… left.
What kind of man did that make him?
As turmoil raged inside him, a sudden noise snapped him back to reality.
All it took was a careless gesture, a meaningless trick, and she'd come running, eyes full of gratitude.
She never seemed to notice his heart wasn't in it.
Or maybe she did—and just didn't care.
It had never crossed his mind that the stray who depended on him might one day vanish from that familiar street corner.
Well, that wasn't entirely true.
There had been nights—too many to count—when he'd watched Flora's sleeping form and wondered: What if she just… left? No warning, no scene. Maybe that would be better for both of them.
But he could never risk it. The moment he loosened his grip, she might become a threat to Marie. The weight of it all exhausted him.
Still, as long as Marie stayed by his brother's side—living as Mrs. Jacob—it was enough. Every time someone addressed her that way at a banquet, she'd shoot him that knowing, teasing glance—
Their little secret.
Emeric shook his head sharply, as if trying to dislodge the thought. An inexplicable unease slithered under his skin.
There was a time when these stolen moments had been enough to make his life with Flora bearable. Now, they only grated on his nerves.
He never imagined her disappearance would unravel him like this. Yet here he was, unable to focus on anything except the desperate hope that Pierre would call with news—that she'd been found.
8:43 AM
Fading Love, Fading Hate, A Forever Farewell
The thought made it impossible to sit still. Emeric stood, brushed off his clothes, and sped home, his nerves frayed the entire drive.
He wanted—needed—to walk in and find everything as it should be: Flora waiting at the door, his favorite meal already prepared.
But the house was silent. No movement, no warmth.
Not even bothering to turn off the engine, he stormed inside.
The moment he stepped in, cold dread washed over him.
The massive wedding portrait that once dominated the living room? Gone. Just a blank white wall in its place.
Panic surged as he tore through the villa.
But it was empty. No clothes, no jewelry, no photos. Even the little tote bag she took to the market had disappeared.
As if she'd never existed.
As if she'd never been part of his life.
Emeric collapsed onto the couch, drained. He pulled out his phone and dialed her number—over and over.
A hundred calls. Not one went through.
He was breaking.
With a snarl, he hurled the phone across the room. As it shattered against the floor, his gaze caught on something—a slightly raised tile.
His breath hitched.
That tile.
He'd secretly told the renovators to leave it loose while Flora was away.
The last remaining piece of Marie in this house.
Emeric lunged forward, pulse roaring in his ears. And there it was—waiting beneath the tile.
The recorder. The one holding his darkest secrets.
Rage exploded through him. He kicked the tile with brutal force, sending shards flying. A jagged piece sliced into his skin.
Then, as if possessed, he raised his hand—
And slapped himself.
Twice.
For the first time, he felt like a complete bastard.
Flora had discovered everything. And instead of screaming, crying, fighting—she'd just… left.
What kind of man did that make him?
As turmoil raged inside him, a sudden noise snapped him back to reality.
End of His Staged Abduction, My Broken Vows Chapter 7. Continue reading Chapter 8 or return to His Staged Abduction, My Broken Vows book page.