She ran.
Out the side door. Down the marble steps. Through the flash of cameras and into the night.
She found him in the parking lot, pacing like he'd just lost her all over again.
"Emery - "
She didn't let him speak.
She launched herself into his arms, hands gripping the back of his shirt, mouth crashing to his.
"I'm done pretending," she whispered. "I pick you. I don't care about the contracts. Or the press. Or the family name. I care about you."
He held her like he never planned to let go.
"You don't have to run anymore," he said.
"I'm not running," she whispered. "I'm home."
They didn't go back inside. Didn't look back.
That night, they packed what they could and disappeared.
Not from each other.
But from the life that was never meant for them.