All Chapters of Obsession: His Runaway Bride: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The Stars Gala was always a spectacle, and this year was no exception. The AMN ballroom buzzed with life—actors, producers, media tycoons, all gathered in their finest. No one came to fade into the background tonight. Everyone was here to be seen, to win something, to prove something.Adrian Blackwood stepped onto the red carpet like he owned it. Cameras fired as soon as he emerged from the sleek black car, flashes reflecting off the gold-stitched lapels of his tux. Reporters leaned over barricades, microphones outstretched like spears.“Adrian! Over here!”He turned just enough for the cameras to get their shot, offering a practiced smirk that always made the headlines. He didn’t linger—he never did. Charm them, give them a look, then move on.“Adrian!” another voice called out, more urgent. “Word is you’re winning Top Most Talented Actor tonight. Any truth to that?”He slowed, looked directly at the woman holding the mic. “It’s an honor just to be nominated,” he said. “There’s so mu

The next day, the media exploded.“Adrian Blackwood storms out of gala—trouble in paradise?”“Bianca Monroe left alone. Was it a breakup?”“Mysterious exit sparks rumors of another woman.”Photos of Bianca, furious and alone, flooded the headlines. Social media ran wild with theories. Some claimed it was a lovers’ spat. Others insisted Adrian had someone else waiting.Adrian didn’t care.He hadn’t even touched his phone—it was still buried under shattered glass and splintered furniture. The house was wrecked. So was he. He hadn’t slept. His whole body ached from rage and exhaustion.Then came the pounding.“Adrian! Open the damn door!”The banging rattled the walls. Adrian sat slouched on the couch, hands gripping his head, breath ragged. Around him, the living room looked like a crime scene—smashed picture frames, broken lamps, furniture overturned.Bang.“Adrian, I swear to God—”He shot up and yanked the door open.Miles nearly stumbled inside.“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he

Grace swirled the amber liquid in her glass. The ice clinked softly against the sides before she took a slow sip of her cognac, savoring the burn as it slid down her throat.With a sigh, she set the glass down on the table beside her and turned her gaze toward the figure seated on the floor. Marco, with his usual relaxed posture, leaned against the couch, one knee up, his arms lazily draped over it. His dark eyes flickered toward her, waiting."How much do you know about my cousin?" Grace asked, her voice smooth but carrying an edge of amusement.Marco exhaled through his nose, tilting his head as if considering the question. "I know that he's unpredictable," he said, his tone as flat as ever. "And by the sound of his voice, he's like an unstable balloon."Grace barked out a laugh, nearly spilling her drink. "A fucking balloon? That's how you describe him?"Marco merely shrugged. "One wrong move and—pop."Grace shook her head, still chuckling. "Seriously, though... you." She lifted a

Sunlight slipped through the thin curtains, cutting across the small room. Noelle opened her eyes, disoriented for a second before the scent of old wood and the creak of the ceiling reminded her—she wasn’t home anymore.She swung her legs off the bed and stood. No need to linger.A quick shower. Jeans, plain blouse. Hair tied back. She checked her reflection in the mirror. Presentable enough. Grabbing her purse, she locked the door behind her.Downstairs, Mrs. Ellis was already wiping down the front desk. The innkeeper looked up as Noelle approached.“Morning. Sleep alright?”“Yeah. Thanks,” Noelle said.Mrs. Ellis gave a short nod. “Heading out?”“I need a job,” Noelle replied, adjusting the purse strap. “Can’t stay long without one.”Mrs. Ellis set down her rag. “Try the restaurant down the street. Always busy. Or the bookstore near the square—quiet, good people.”“That helps,” Noelle said. “Thanks.”“Start with breakfast,” Mrs. Ellis said, nodding toward the door. “Bakery next door

As they walked down the quiet street, Noelle occasionally glanced at the boy beside her. His small hands were stuffed deep into the sleeves of her cardigan as he trudged forward in silence. She was about to ask him if they were close to his house when the low hum of approaching engines caught her attention.Engines.Sleek black vehicles rounded the corner, headlights slicing through the dim evening like blades. Noelle instinctively reached for the boy’s hand as her heart stuttered. Something about the sight set her on edge.The lead car screeched to a stop right in front of them. The others followed suit in precise formation. Doors swung open in near-perfect unison.Men in black suits emerged, their movements sharp, coordinated—military, or something close. Noelle’s fingers tightened around the boy’s hand.She felt him freeze.Then, from the first car, a man stepped out.Tall. Immaculately dressed. Radiating authority.His coat flared with each step as he approached, and when his shar