As the morning sun bathed the Morgan estate in a warm, golden glow, the Morgan family gathered for breakfast in the opulent dining room. The absence of Elara, who usually rose early, went unnoticed by her father and stepmother. They didn't seem to care that she wasn't present.
William Morgan, a man in his early forties with ruggedly handsome features that defied the passage of time, exuded an air of affluence. He was impeccably dressed in an expensive tuxedo, a clear statement of his status and success in the world of business.
Seated next to him, Cecilia Morgan was the picture of extravagance, draped in a Louis Vuitton three-piece ensemble that bore a price tag in the thousands. Her warm smile concealed the coldness that often lurked beneath the surface.
Isabella, their elder daughter at 22, was engrossed in her latest possession, the iPhone 15, a symbol of excess that seemed to define the Morgan family. Her attention remained glued to the screen, her indifference to Elara's absence evident.
Ethan, the youngest of the Morgan clan, had his head lowered as he dutifully ate his breakfast. He was 20, like Elara, and although he was still a young man, the traits he had inherited from his mother, Cecilia, were already emerging.
Suddenly, Isabella put her phone down and addressed her father, her tone full of eagerness. "We have 30 minutes to get to court, Dad. We can't be late when meeting someone as important as Vincent Holloway."
Mr. Morgan, momentarily preoccupied with his meal, finally registered the fact that Elara was conspicuously absent. His expression shifted as he turned to the maid who stood nearby, her presence as unobtrusive as ever.
"Go and call Elara down right now," he commanded, his tone laced with irritation. "Tell her if she's not ready in 5 minutes, I will come and drag her down myself."
The maid nodded, silently acknowledging the order, and promptly left the dining room to deliver the message.
The rest of the family continued eating, Isabella's triumphant smile unfading. She had long awaited the day when Elara would be out of the house, leaving her alone with Mr. Morgan. Like her mother, Isabella was consumed by greed, vindictiveness, and selfishness. Her dreams of having Mr. Morgan all to herself were finally within reach.
Ethan, on the other hand, nursed his resentment toward Elara. He detested her because she was the legitimate daughter of the Morgan family, and that meant she had higher chances of inheriting more of the family estate when their grandmother passed away. Greed seemed to run deep within their family's veins, a curse that bound them together even as it tore them apart.
The dining room had fallen into an eerie silence when the maid came rushing down the stairs, fear etched across her face. She barely managed to catch her breath before she blurted out, "Sir, ma'am, Miss Elara is not in her room."
Both Mr. Morgan and Cecilia reacted with alarm. In unison, they exclaimed, "What?"
The maid continued, her voice trembling, "I think she jumped out the window, ma'am. Her window is wide open."
Mr. Morgan's face twisted in a mix of anger and panic. "Why are you still standing here? Get the guards immediately! Bring her back now!"
Without wasting a moment, the maid bolted from the room, her footsteps echoing in the grand hallway as she hurriedly summoned the guards. The manhunt for Elara had begun.
Outside, the Morgan estate was a flurry of activity as the guards fanned out, determined to locate their missing charge. It wasn't long before one of the guards shouted, "There she is! Hurry, capture her!"
The others followed the pointing hand, spotting Elara as she moved with a determined pace, her eyes resolute and her spirit unbroken. The guards swiftly closed in, closing the distance with every step.
Back in the mansion, Cecilia, William, Ethan, and Isabella were pacing restlessly in the living room, their eyes filled with a mixture of fear and anxiety. Their fear was not for Elara but for the impression they would make on a man as influential as Vincent Holloway.
Cecilia, her voice laced with tension, directed the guards, "Get her back here, but make sure you don't touch her face."
The guards acknowledged the order and sprinted toward the direction where their fellow guard had spotted Elara. Their footsteps echoed through the estate as the pursuit unfolded, and the fate of the Morgan family's reputation hung in the balance.
Elara's breath came in ragged gasps as she sprinted toward the imposing iron gates that guarded the entrance to the Morgan estate. The weight of desperation fueled her every step, the pounding of her heart the relentless drumbeat of freedom.
Arriving at the gate, she realized with a sinking feeling that it was closed, an insurmountable obstacle that could thwart her escape. Panic gripped her for a moment as she scanned her surroundings, searching for a solution.
As her mind raced, calculating her options, she noticed a small crack in the gate, a narrow passage just wide enough for her slender frame to squeeze through. She knew she had to act fast.
Summoning every ounce of her determination, Elara wedged herself through the gap. Her tall frame, at 6.1 inches, made the tight squeeze challenging, but her will to escape the oppressive confines of her family's mansion pushed her onward.
Just as she cleared the gate and was about to continue her flight to freedom, she glanced back and saw someone in a guard's uniform standing in the shadows not far away. Elara's heart clenched in uncertainty. She had believed that the staff loyal to her mother had all been replaced, and trust in the mansion was scarce.
But as she met the eyes of the shadowy figure, there was a glimmer of understanding, a silent acknowledgment that spoke volumes. In that fleeting moment, she recognized that this guard had aided her, perhaps moved by a sense of compassion or a shared memory of a time before Cecilia had tainted their lives.
Grateful for this unexpected act of kindness, Elara raised her hand in a quick, subtle gesture, forming an okay sign. The guard, still hidden in the shadows, seemed to understand and nodded almost imperceptibly.
With a final, grateful glance, Elara turned and resumed her escape. The gate closed behind her, sealing her freedom and closing the chapter on a life of oppression and cruelty. As she ran toward an uncertain future, she clung to the small glimmer of hope that the world beyond the gate held the promise of a brighter, more authentic existence.
Elara's determination to escape her impending fate fueled her sprint through the unfamiliar streets. She had made a solemn vow to herself: she would never marry a man she didn't know, especially someone with Vincent Holloway's reputation.
The distance she covered seemed endless, and her feet ached with each step. She was thirsty, out of breath, and desperately needed a moment to rest. The voices of her pursuers echoed behind her, a relentless reminder that she couldn't afford to slow down.
Elara's focus was solely on reaching the bustling street ahead, where she hoped to blend into the crowd and momentarily evade her relentless pursuers. But as she darted across the road, an unexpected collision sent her tumbling to the ground.
The driver of the car that struck her stopped, concern etched on his face as he approached. "Miss, are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine worry.
Elara looked up, her heart pounding, just as she heard voices drawing nearer. Panic surged as she realized her escape was slipping away. Before she could answer, the stranger's voice came to her aid as he said distracting the guards, "She went that way. She shouldn't be too far."
The driver's eyes met Elara's, and she sensed a spark of understanding. In that critical moment, she knew he could be her only way to outrun the approaching guards. She nodded her head and quickly climbed into the stranger's car.
The driver wasted no time, hitting the accelerator and propelling the car forward at a fast speed, leaving her pursuers behind.
As they sped away, the stranger cast a concerned glance at Elara. "Are you okay? Can I take you to the hospital?"
Elara, still breathing heavily, shook her head. "No, thank you. I'm fine. Just drop me off somewhere quiet, and I'll figure something out from there."
The man's empathy was evident in his eyes as he nodded in understanding. He continued to drive, knowing that he was now a part of a mysterious escape.
When the car reached a quiet alley in the heart of the bustling city, Elara thanked the stranger profusely, promising to find a way to express her gratitude properly in the future. She couldn't help but ask for his name, a desire to know the person who had become her savior in this critical moment.
The stranger, with a warm smile, replied, "It's okay. I hit you with a car, so it's the least I could do."
Elara didn't press any further, understanding that he might have his reasons for maintaining his anonymity. She stepped out of the car and, with a limping gait, made her way deep into the quiet alley.
In the solitude of this hidden corner, she finally allowed herself to catch her breath. Exhaustion and the adrenaline that had fueled her escape had taken a toll on her. Her eyelids grew heavy, and the weariness of the past hours began to weigh on her. She realized it was the result of her sleepless night, and her body was demanding rest.
With a deep sigh, Elara settled herself into a comfortable position, using her backpack as a makeshift pillow. She allowed her eyes to drift closed and surrendered to the soothing embrace of slumber. In the heart of the city, in the shelter of the quiet alley, she found a moment of respite from the storm that had been her life. It was a brief interlude of tranquility, one that would be a welcome precursor to the challenges and uncertainties that lay ahead.