All Chapters of Runaway Heiress: The Billionaire’s Forgotten Bride: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

The office was silent, save for the steady, rhythmic thrum of the city fifty floors below. It was a sound Aurora had once found terrifying, a mechanical monster waiting to devour her. Now, it was just noise.Inside the room, however, the silence was a living thing. It was heavy with the weight of five years, of secrets kept and lies told, of a love that had been burned to ash and was now, impossibly, trying to spark again.Liam Cross stood by his desk, his hand resting on the phone he had just used to buy a bank.He looked at her.His eyes were gray. Not the cold, slate gray of the CEO who had crushed her supply chain. They were the gray of a storm that had finally broken, leaving the air clear and sharp. They were raw. They were open."The records are sealed," he repeated, his voice low. "You are safe."Aurora stared at him. She was still holding the ring, her fingers curled around the cold, hard diamond. It dug into her palm, a physical anchor in a room that felt like it was spinnin

The city beyond the tinted windows of the Maybach was a blur of steel and rain, a fitting backdrop for the storm raging inside the car.Aurora sat next to Liam, her body angled slightly away from him, a reflex she couldn't quite shake.The silence between them was no longer the loaded, electric quiet of the elevator.It was heavier. Denser. It was the silence of a truce built on a foundation of secrets that were slowly, agonizingly, being unearthed.They had just left the school. They had faced the cameras. They had presented the "united front."But the front was a facade."We should talk," Liam said. His voice was low, barely audible over the hum of the engine. He wasn't looking at her. He was looking at his hands—the "bear hands" that had held their son."We are talking," Aurora said, her voice tight. She was watching Ethan in the rearview mirror. He was in the third row of seats, happily playing with a new toy car Liam’s driver had "found" for him. He was oblivious. He was safe."N

The exile from Cross Empire had not been a retreat for Vanessa Leigh. It had been a incubation.Her office—the "Special Projects" purgatory—was gone. Her access cards were deactivated. Her company phone was wiped.She was, for the first time in a decade, unemployed.But she was not powerless.She sat in her apartment on the Upper East Side, a space that was as cold and sterile as the ambition that had paid for it. The lights were off. The only illumination came from the city outside, casting long, jagged shadows across the floor.On the glass coffee table in front of her, lay the "weapon."The plastic bag with the juice box straw. The DNA test results. The photos of Liam and Ethan.She had thought it was "Game Over." She had thought she had won.But then Liam had bought the bank. He had sealed the records. He had dismantled her leverage with a single, terrifying display of financial brute force.You have nothing.His words echoed in the silent room.She picked up the DNA report. She c

The cabin in the Adirondacks was not a "glass castle."It was a fortress of timber and stone, nestled deep in a forest that smelled of pine needles and damp earth. It was primitive, as Liam had promised. No internet. No cable. Just a landline, a fireplace, and silence.For two days, it had been a sanctuary.Aurora sat on the porch, wrapped in a thick woolen blanket, watching the rain drip from the eaves. The air was cold, sharp, and clean—a stark contrast to the recycled, surveillance-heavy air of the penthouse.Inside, Ethan and Liam were building a fire.It was a slow, deliberate process. Liam was teaching him how to stack the kindling, how to leave space for air, how to strike a match."Like this?" Ethan asked, his voice muffled by the thick glass door."Exactly like that," Liam’s voice rumbled back. "You have to be patient. Fire needs to breathe."Aurora watched them. The large, dark head bent over the small, chestnut one.It was a scene from a life she had never let herself imagi

The final piece for the International Fashion Awards was a secret.It hung in the back of the AVA atelier, shrouded in black muslin, guarded by the two elderly seamstresses, Yvette and Marie, who treated it with the reverence of a holy relic.It was the "Reconciliation" gown. The midnight blue velvet storm cloud Aurora had been stitching when Liam had walked in at 3 AM.It was finished.It was 10 PM on the night before the submission deadline. The atelier was quiet, the frantic energy of the last few weeks settling into a tense, exhausted hum.Aurora stood in her office, reviewing the final logistics with Elias."The courier is scheduled for 8 AM," Elias said, checking his watch. "The security team will escort the crate to the IFA headquarters.""Good," Aurora said. She was running on fumes, her eyes gritty, her body aching. But she felt... light.She had done it. She had faced Liam. She had faced the competition. And she had created something that wasn't just armor. It was art."Go h