Chapter 7

Chloe's POV

The night before the wedding.

Our families hosted a massive rehearsal dinner at the most luxurious hotel in Manhattan.

All our relatives, friends, and business partners were there.

The crystal chandeliers gleamed, and the champagne towers sparkled under the lights.

I wore a stunning red gown, socializing with the guests with a flawless smile on my face.

Liam stood beside me, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.

He kept checking his watch and pulling out his phone.

"Liam, what is wrong with you?" Liam's mother walked over, whispering sharply. "Today is a big day for you and Chloe. Focus."

"I'm fine, Mom," Liam brushed her off, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

A waiter carrying a tray accidentally bumped into me.

The red wine spilled, splashing onto my skirt.

"I am so sorry! Miss Vance, I am so sorry!" The waiter apologized profusely, trembling.

Before I could speak, Liam suddenly exploded.

"How do you do your job? Are you blind?!" He violently shoved the waiter, his voice echoing across the quieted ballroom.

Everyone turned to look at us.

I frowned slightly.

Liam was overreacting.

He wasn't acting out of concern for me. He was just using this as an excuse to vent his pent-up anxiety.

"I'm fine," I grabbed Liam's arm. "I'll just go to the restroom and clean up."

Right then, the phone in Liam's pocket began to vibrate frantically.

As if grabbing onto his last lifeline, he snatched it out immediately.

Seeing the name on the screen, his face drained of all color.

He violently threw my hand off and answered.

"Summer? What's wrong? Speak to me!"

Summer's terrified screams echoed faintly from the receiver. "Liam! Help me! Someone is breaking down my door! They're inside... Ah!"

The call cut off.

Liam's eyes went completely wild.

He turned and bolted toward the exit like a madman.

"Liam! Where do you think you're going?!" his father, Charles Hudson, roared.

"Summer is in danger! I have to save her!" Liam didn't even turn his head.

"Stop right there! Do you have any idea what night it is? If you dare walk out of that door, don't ever call yourself a Hudson again!"

Liam paused.

He turned around, looking at the room full of guests, his furious parents, and finally, his gaze landed on me.

I stood there, watching him.

I didn't stop him, nor did I beg him to stay.

My gaze was as cold as if I were looking at a corpse.

"I'm sorry," Liam gritted his teeth. "I can't let her die."

With that, he ran out of the ballroom.

The heavy doors slammed shut with a resounding thud.

The room fell into a dead silence before erupting into a frenzy of whispers.

"Oh my god, did the groom just run away?"

"For a reporter? This is insane!"

"The Vance family's reputation is completely ruined..."

Liam's father looked like he was about to have a stroke.

My father, Arthur, looked furious. He strode over to me. "Chloe, what on earth is going on?!"

"Dad, it's fine," I supported my father, my voice completely steady. "Let the guests enjoy their dinner. It's just a minor hiccup."

I turned back to the room, raising my wine glass high.

"Apologies for the drama, everyone. Mr. Hudson had an emergency to handle. Tomorrow's wedding will proceed as scheduled. Please, enjoy your evening."

I drained the glass of red wine in one gulp.

My movements were sharp and elegant, without a hint of desperation.

After calming the guests, I slipped away and walked out onto the hotel terrace.

The night wind was freezing.

It cleared the alcohol from my mind.

I leaned against the railing, looking down at the city streets.

Liam's car was already gone.

I closed my eyes, letting out a long, slow breath.

It was over.

The very last shred of hope I had for Liam had died completely tonight.

Click.

The sharp sound of a lighter echoed behind me.

It was startlingly loud in the quiet night.

I spun around.

In the shadows of the terrace stood a tall man.

He wore a long black trench coat, holding a freshly lit cigarette between his fingers.

The glowing red tip flickered in the dark.

He stepped out of the shadows.

The hallway light hit his face, carving out his sharp, aristocratic features.

His eyes were dark, dangerous, and dripping with raw intensity as he stared at me.

Ethan.

He really came back.

My heart skipped a beat.

After three years, his aura had become even more terrifying.

Ethan walked over, looming over me.

His gaze swept over my red gown, finally landing on my bandaged left hand.

He reached out, his long fingers gently wrapping around my wrist.

His touch was as cold as ice.

"Does it still hurt?" His voice was deep, gravelly, and laced with a subtle danger.

I tried to pull my hand back, but his grip tightened.

"It doesn't," I met his gaze.

Ethan let out a low chuckle.

He took a drag of his cigarette and slowly blew the smoke into my face.

The bitter scent of tobacco enveloped me instantly.

"He abandoned you at your rehearsal dinner for another woman," Ethan's voice held no effort to hide his mockery. "Chloe, is this the man you ran away with three years ago?"

My face paled.

"I made a mistake," I admitted frankly, offering no excuses.

"And you think a simple confession wipes away those three years?" Ethan suddenly lunged forward, pinning me against the terrace railing.