All Chapters of Running Away To My Forgotten Heir : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Chapter 12: Gina’s POV:I walked down the terrace heading to my room, walking quietly, avoiding being seen by him.Kelvin just left him, and I was sure he would be heading back any moment.I quickened my steps, holding my handbag tightly over my shoulder.I walked past the maids' passage. They were all in a room, and murmurs spread out. It was not as it was when I passed the last night—the room was quiet and orderly then.I paused, walked to the wall, and leaned against it.I stayed calm and silent, but the sounds coming through were still muffled.I listened again and again, but I couldn't make out a sound.I should leave—Damon could be there any moment—but I couldn't give up. I really wanted to know how they felt about the visit and who they might think was right.Desperate, I walked into the passage—slowly, calculating my steps on my toes. I wasn't perfect—couldn't even remember when I last did that, maybe when I was eight or so—but I managed to reach the door without making a sin

Gina’s POV:My head throbbed with pain as I managed to open my eyes a little bit.A flash of headache flew through my skull, and I paused every action on my body entirely.I waited for another moment to get my body to settle and every organ in place, and after about ten seconds I opened my eyes again.It went gradually from blurry to normal as I opened them.“Hospital?” I breathed the word. And it really hurt. The kind of pain that follows every word from your chest through your throat.I tried to swallow. My throat was sandpaper. There was an IV in my arm—I hadn't noticed it before. The tube snaked up to a bag of liquid hanging beside the bed. Fluids. Maybe nutrients. I didn't remember anyone putting it there.My lips were cracked. My mouth tasted like metal. I'd been out longer than I thought.I looked around and the room seemed vacant. The walls were that pale green color hospitals loved—meant to be calming, maybe, but it just felt like sickness. A curtain hung halfway across the

Gina’s POV:The next morning, when I woke, he wasn't there.I'd regained my strength—from the rest, the medication, or maybe the lack of anxiety. Or maybe I just felt protected.I looked around. The room felt vacant. I tried to convince myself nothing was missing—but I couldn't.I stretched. Every bone seemed intact—ready to face whatever battle was next.I sat up and rested my head against the pillow on the tiny bed.Just then, a nurse entered, holding a tray of medication and water."You're awake, Miss Gina." She beamed. The smile made her look prettier.I nodded. She placed the tray on the stool beside me—the one Damon had sat on the night before. I scoffed. So he was the missing piece. The reason the room had felt empty.I didn't know what I was feeling, but it wasn't hatred or disgust. It was something more pleasant."You have to take this now," she said, helping me open the bottle."Thank you." I took the medication, then the water, and swallowed."It's okay," she said, packing

Gina’s POV:I tightened the laces on the wedding dress and swallowed hard.I didn't even know the feeling running inside me. Damon had assured me of protection, but he'd been acting strangely lately. I didn't know what to trust. His words or his actions.Nadia, my friend, once told me to believe in people's behavior when it differs from their words; that way, you survive.But if I went by his behavior, I should be running away again. From him. From the marriage. From his so-called protection. But something in me was waiting. I didn't know why. Maybe because of Evan. Or maybe something else.But he could be using Evan's name to trap me—Kings men loved controlling people through their weaknesses."That's perfect," Nadia said from behind.I spun around. That smile hung on her face. She didn't even call to say she was coming."Don't you scold me for not telling you beforehand," she said quickly, walking toward me.She pulled me into a hug."No," I whispered as the loneliness in me loosene

Damon’s POV:I didn't sleep.Not because of the chair. The chair was fine. Hard, but familiar. I'd slept in worse places—floors, cars, alleyways when I was young and had nowhere else to go. No, the chair wasn't the problem.She was.The way she'd looked at me in the garden when my father spoke. Like she was seeing me for the first time. Not the man who saved her. Not the man with the contract. Just... me. And she hadn't liked what she saw.That look followed me into the dark.I sat by the window long after her breathing evened out. The moon moved across the sky. Slow. Indifferent. The garden below shifted from silver to black to gray as the hours bled away.At some point, I stopped watching the garden and started watching her.She slept on her side, facing the empty space between us. One hand stretched across the mattress. Toward me. Or toward the place where I should have been. I couldn't tell which. Her lips were parted. Her forehead was smooth. In sleep, she looked younger. Unburde