Chapter 19 - His Runaway Bride

Lucian leaned back in his chair, the weight of the negotiation pressing uncomfortably against his temples. 

Across him, Gregory Wendell, the eldest son of the Wendell family, sat with an - in his opinion - rather dumb smile etched into his face. 

The meeting was a vital one - a... rare moment of diplomacy between two families whose history for the past few years had no end of spite and betrayal.

“The embargos benefits no one,” Gregory said, his tone calm and clipped. Lucian thought he was trying to appear serious. 

He only came across as slightly comical. “Resuming trade would strengthen both our sides.”

Lucian’s fingers tapped a steady rhythm on the polished mahogany table. 

He kept his expression flat, and his voice sharp as he replied, “Strength isn’t gained by mere convenience. The terms must benefit me enough that I would lift it. The situation of the Wendells won’t sway me.”

Truthfully, Lucian was annoyed at this. He was not meant to be here. 

He had a wedding waiting, damnit, and Isa - no, Ayra, won't appreciate a stand-in for her wedding. He was scoring negative points already. 

The two men locked eyes, the air thick with unspoken threats. Lucian had no illusions about the meeting’s fragility; one misstep could shatter weeks of careful planning on both ends.

Before Gregory could respond, the door creaked open, and Jensen, one of Lucian’s informants, stepped inside. His usually stoic demeanor was tinged with a hint of urgency.

“Apologies for the interruption,” Jensen said, his voice low, his eyes flicking between Lucian and Gregory.

Lucian’s jaw tightened. He was not in the best of moods, and he despised interruptions during meetings of this magnitude, but Jensen’s presence meant it was critical. “Step outside, Gregory. We’ll continue shortly.”

Gregory raised a brow but said nothing, standing and exiting with affected nonchalance. He was on the back foot in the negotiations and he knew it. 

As the door shut behind him, Lucian turned his attention to Jensen, his eyes narrowing in displeasure.

“It better be important.”

“It’s Ayra,” Jensen said. “She’s gone.”

Lucian’s breath caught, the words slicing through his carefully maintained composure. He caught himself and breathed. 

“Gone?” he echoed, his voice dangerously quiet.

Jensen nodded. “She escaped the venue. Ferdinand and Lisbeth’s people are searching, but she’s vanished.”

Lucian’s hand clenched into a fist on the table, his knuckles whitening. “How? Wasn't there supposed to be a wedding going on?”

“We don’t have all the details yet. Eleanor was involved, but Ayra outmaneuvered even her. She’s... clever.”

"Even our men?"

"Them too."

Lucian stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “Get out,” he said, his voice cold and final.

Jensen hesitated for a moment but then exited, leaving Lucian alone in the room.

---

The moment the door closed, Lucian’s mask shattered. 

He paced the length of the room, his movements agitated. His thoughts spiraled, tangled in a storm of emotions he rarely ever felt. 

She was gone. Isa. 

He grabbed the glass of water on the table and hurled it against the wall. 

It shattered into a thousand pieces, and he watched it, fury coursed through his veins, but it wasn’t just anger - it was something deeper, something far more dangerous... Alongside an underscore of hurt. 

Lucian’s mind raced, his mind churning and turning, his feelings all over the place. Had she always intended to leave? She was running away. Why? From him?

It tore at him. 

He calmed quickly though as his mind sought to work more logically.

Standing by the shattered remnants of the glass, staring out the window at the city skyline, his mind churning with conflicting emotions.

Ayra’s escape was infuriating. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of admiration.

She had outsmarted Ferdinand, Lisbeth, and even Eleanor. She was quite like the Isa he knew. Strong and clever when she had to be. 

Then his jaw tightened as another thought crept in: What if this wasn’t entirely her choice? 

Ferdinand had his own way of breaking people. He was not known as Yellow Sam for no reason. Had he pushed her too far in some way? 

Isa was... More fragile than most realized. 

The memories of Isa - her laughter, her sharp wit, the way she had disappeared like smoke in the wind - crashed into him like a tidal wave. 

He had spent years chasing shadows, and now, with Ayra, he had thought he’d finally found her.

And then there was the sting of betrayal. If she truly was Isa, then her actions felt like a knife to the gut. 

Had he been wrong all along? He doubted Isa would flee from him. 

Lucian grabbed his phone and called Viktor, the man leading the investigation into Isa. The line rang twice before the man picked up.

“Any updates?” Lucian demanded, his voice a razor’s edge.

Viktor’s response was calm, much like the man. “We’ve analyzed the connections and everything you gave us. The evidence is overwhelming, Lucian - we are ninety percent certain that Ayra is Isa.”

Ninety percent.

Lucian clenched the phone so tightly it felt as though it might snap in his hand. Ninety percent wasn’t a hundred. It wasn’t definitive.

“And the remaining ten percent?” Lucian asked, his voice carefully even. If it weren't, he feared he would flip his lid. 

“It is... Extremely circumstantial,” Viktor admitted. “But the odds are strong in her favor.”

Lucian exhaled slowly, the weight of the revelation pressing down on him. Ninety percent certainty meant nothing when the person in question had already slipped through his grasp.

“Keep me updated,” Lucian said curtly, ending the call.

He dialed his assistant. “Book me a flight back to Scosch,” he said.

“Right away, sir. When do you want to depart?”

“Tonight,” Lucian replied. “The earliest flight available.”

He ended the call and sat down, his mind already shifting gears. Returning to Scosch meant taking control of the situation himself. 

He simply couldn’t trust Ferdinand to handle it - he had already failed. He also had a vague idea that Ferdinand was up to something but it did not matter so long as he got Isa.