All Chapters of His Runaway Angel : Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

It didn’t make sense to Hana. Her husband still wanted to host the Halloween party. Her immediate thought was no, but she had to be smart and diplomatic about it. She fixed their dinner on a tray and carried it to the dining room. Kyle was on a call when she left to cook. This week, she had been leaving the office without him because his meetings ran late. Andrea would drop her home first, then return to the office to pick up her husband whenever he was done.Camilla called to know if the party would still be holding. That was the only reason she brought up the topic with Kyle. So they could discuss and tell his sister no. Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned it or waited until later to do so. If she didn’t experience Halloween this year, she would do so next year or any other time. It wasn’t a necessity.Heading to their room, Hana knocked once and opened the door. Kyle was still in his suit. Talking to his family had helped. They had pulled in f

This was Hana’s first party as a host. She had attended parties her parents hosted but never had to be in charge of one herself. Right now, she was in the back hiding away while the party boomed inside.Someone opened the backdoor, and Hana hurried down the rest of the stairs, hoping to avoid them. Her husband must be worried out of his mind, still she scooped the ends of her ballroom gown and hurried. They were supposed to be king and queen.“Baby? Princess?” The familiar voice stopped Hana in her tracks. She turned. Kyle walked down the stairs, ripping off his blue mask to flash her a grin. Her cheeks flushed with shyness. “You found me,” she said.“Of course I did,” Kyle replied. Stopping in front of her, he cupped her rosy cheeks with his gloved hands. She was also wearing gloves, but hers were much fancier. “The party can’t go on without its queen.” “It&

The car was barely parked when Calvin shot out of it. Dark clouds had gathered, but the lights from the house brightened up the compound. He dialled his father’s number as he headed for the door. The time on his phone showed 9:30 pm. The party should have lasted until 10 pm, and he would have left for the house with his wife. Fuck. He should have insisted they left earlier.Knocking once, Calvin waited for his dad to pick up. Mum wasn’t feeling too well, so he didn’t want to bother her with this news. When his dad didn’t pick up, he tried to call Rock, his PI. What if Angel was right, and it was her father who orchestrated the fire? If that was him, this could be John Kent, too. For his and Angel’s sake, he hoped Rock would have some useful information to save them. When Rock finally picked up, Calvin’s first word was, “My wife’s missing. I have a suspicion it’s John. John Kent. Please find out everything nece

Everyone gathered around Calvin. His sister, brother, mother, and father. They all stayed beside him, waiting another message. The police left a few hours ago, assuring him they would get his wife back, but he didn’t believe them. Angel had been gone for five days without a trace except for the media messages he had been getting from the unknown number. He was safe, and his wife wasn’t. The last picture was of her on a bed, her face screwed in fear. Whoever took that picture had signed his death warrant. He would kill the person when he found them. His plan to keep everyone out of this while he and his father solved it had flown out of the window the moment he received those set of texts. Now, they spent their days at the house, waiting for another message. Anything that could tell about her location.  The police had suggested calling or texting back the number who sent those texts, but easy time he did, it was unreachable and the messages bounced back. Undelive

They found her. It had been a week since Calvin’s mother gave them the tip about the tracker in the pendant. In that time, they had all worked tirelessly to find Calvin’s wife. Within that time, Calvin experienced too many breakdowns to count. This ordeal wasn’t one he would wish on anyone, not even people he loathed. He sat in his wife’s office, phone in his hand, waiting for a call or something that would take him to her. His heart was broken and hollow, and had stopped beating right a long time ago. This was pain. This was torture. Coming to the office wasn’t actually for him to work. Her absence was driving him insane because her scent was everywhere. He was tired of his whole family fussing over him, so he had promised them he would show up at work to use it as a distraction. That didn’t work. Because he found himself in her office, sometimes just touching all the things she touched, staring into space or pacing the