Runaway to Love
Prologue
"…betrayal is the willful slaughter of hope."
"I am not going to marry him!"
"Yes you are!"
"I would rather live like some impoverished person than hurt myself trying to save face!"
"I only wanted what was best for you – for all of us!"
"There is nothing more humiliating in life than become the slave of your business rival!"
"Business partner…"
"It's still the same thing!"
"Sharpay, you do not understand what is going on…"
"Oh yes I do, Daddy! We hit a dead end and the company's shut down; and now you want to marry me to some guy who came from boarding school so that you don't have to start from scratch!"
"Charlotte – make this young lady see reason! I could not deal with this."
"Vance, calm down. Sharpay darling, I think you're overreacting – it's just a simple marriage…"
"What the fuck, Mother?"
"Calm down Shar…"
"Don't 'Shar' me Ryan - you're not the one getting married! And to think, I'm only 17, I have a whole life ahead of me!"
"Enough! You, Sharpay Violet Evans, are getting married to Brian Whitmore and that is the end of discussion!"
"I will never marry him!"
"Yes you will. He's our only chance!"
"Never Daddy! How dare you impose it?!"
"How dare you disobey me?!"
CRASH!!!
The Chinese Ming vase collided with the long mahogany executive desk situated at the center of the huge study and creating an earsplitting crash as it broke into a million pieces. The leather executive swivel chair located behind the desk zoomed backward and toppled over as a middle-aged man tried his fastest to avoid the flying piece of Oriental décor targeted at his head and fell on his carpeted flooring, cursing as he felt pangs of pain in his not-so-healthy body.
A blonde teen stood at the other end of the room fuming as she struggled to free herself of her brother's grip. Her normally soulful brown eyes were filled with zealous rage and she wanted to unleash her wrath upon the man who told her she was having an arranged marriage. Her brother pinned her arms to the side as she tried to reach for a bronze statue and once again chuck it at their father. He looked at her, his slate blue eyes warning her not to lose her temper.
Charlotte Evans sat frozen in the middle of the leather sofa, which matched the swivel chair, gripping the tea cup tightly halfway between the saucer and her cherry red lips. The vase flew right in front of her as she was going to sip her tea and her head spun as she looked at her daughter who was trying to throw more stuff at her husband. She slowly looked back at the tall man getting up from behind the desk. His slick grey hair had a few strands hanging out of place and his dark brown eyes were dancing with anger as he too glared at his daughter. He stood up and fixed his red silk tie positioning it meticulously on the center of his starched blue dress shirt and gently pulling the satin lapels of his black coat and brushing away its invisible dirt. He fixed his hair with his hands and sat down on his now upright chair.
Breathing slowly in and out his face had a scowl and he looked at the broken pieces of the vase that littered the corner of his varnished desk – which now had a chip on it. Looking back at his fuming daughter, his scowl deepened and he clenched his fists. His wife gave him a warning look and he coughed. Sharpay was still glaring at him and Ryan gave him a look of coldness.
"It's over, it's done and it's non-negotiable," he started and his voice got caught up in his throat.
"No matter what you try to do, no matter what you say, no matter what you feel – you are going to get married in a month. So enjoy your last days being single because thirty days later you will be tying the knot and saving thousands of people from losing their jobs," he finished. Sharpay looked at him with pure hatred as angry tears spilled down her cheeks.
"Fuck you!" she yelled and stomped out of the room.
"What am I going to do Char?" he asked his wife as his daughter slammed the door and was wrecking the things that got in her way in the hall. She looked at him, her blue eyes filled with sadness, understanding and a hint of anger.
"That's a rhetorical question don't you think?" she spat back leaning her elegant frame on the back of the sofa.
"Still, she cannot escape her responsibilities." Vance insisted hotly rubbing his two fingers on his forehead in deep thought. His wife put down her empty tea cup and glared at him.
"This is not one of her responsibilities Vance. The whole marriage was imposed on her and what she says is true. The "IT" girl of New York cannot just marry the stud of NY because you couldn't possibly live down your loss," she explained bitterly. Vance slammed a fist on his desk.
"Why are you all accusing me like I'm some selfish bastard?!" he roared.
"Because you are!" she yelled back and Vance stood up suddenly, his chair falling for the second time that day. He walked over to his wife who also stood up, smoothing down her cream dress. Charlotte stood eye to eye with Vance who was beet red in the face.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he whispered menacingly, his face merely inches from her own and she could feel the anger radiating off him.
"We all have sacrifices to make in our lives Vance, toning down our lifestyle is one of them. What the fuck were you playing at when you said yes to his proposal?" she hissed, her blue eyes sending off sparks of electricity as she glared at his face.
"The job of a thousand people who will lose their paychecks if I shut down, the lives of their families they wouldn't be able to support and the future of their children which would be bleak if they ended up on the streets," he hissed back and Charlotte softened her gaze and looked away from him in shame, he had a point.
Here was a man who was willing to sacrifice for the good of his people, but there was still the fact of the arranged marriage. She faced him with a sad look after carefully staring out the windows of their penthouse.
"Vance, what you did – it was heroic. But you're not God, and Sharpay's not Jesus who will live after three days and wow the world. She's a young woman who is forced to spend the rest of her life with a man she hardly knows, terrified, angry and bitter. Could you deal with that?"
=:=:=:=:=:=:=:=
It was 2:48 in the early morning and a black sports car sped down the streets of Manhattan as it headed for the airport. Slowing down as it drove into a parking space it stopped with a sudden jerk. Ryan gripped the steering wheel as if hanging on for dear life, his knuckles were as white as his face. Tears filled his eyes and spilled down his cheeks as his heart crumbled and his sister sat beside him trying her best not to cry too.
Sharpay leapt out of the car and walked over to the driver's side, opened its door and popped the trunk open. She took out her numerous luggages and found a cart. Before walking out on her New York life, she knelt by the still open driver's door and looked up at her brother who hardly moved nor stopped his crying. She stroked his knee and he looked at her, his tear strained cheeks glistening in the darkness of the early morning.
"W…why…?" was all he could stammer before his lips quivered and more tears spilled. Sharpay hugged him tightly as she cried onto his shoulder too. She remembered how adamant her father had been, her mother looked blank and she knew her life was over.
"Daddy betrayed me when used to promise that he'll never let me stand in harm's way. He promised to protect me and never to harm me – it's all bullshit Ryan. He himself hurt me and it's just too fucking unbearable to be anywhere near him. He's all talk…" she trailed off.
"Promise you'll keep in touch?" he whispered, his voice cracked, his eyes red and puffy.
"I couldn't – not now. One day I'll call you, when I'm alright but for now…goodbye." Sharpay kissed his pale tear-strained cheek and walked away pushing her stuff as her brother watched her leave. When she was long gone, he revved the car and drove back to the Evans penthouse.
The next day was hell for the three Evans in New York. Ryan awoke to a belligerent father and a distraught mother who were leaving no stone unturned looking for their daughter who apparently ran away last night. His days of melancholy have started and he halfheartedly helped his parents look for his sister.
Night finally took over day and he crept back to his room closing the door. He looked around the dark blue walls that matched the indigo carpet flooring. His Macbook sat on his desk in one corner of the room, the chair behind it felt mysteriously eerie without his sister's presence. She sat there after dinner almost every night to chat with him and tell him all about her day. Then he looked and its charcoal grey satin covers and the matching duvet where she'll usually jump right after her stories and just bug the hell out of him.
He missed her already and hoped with all his heart, as he stared longingly at his Blackberry, that wherever she is, she is safe…
I know my other story's not done yet and now I have to update two stories but I don't mind!
Anyway, this time I won't update this story unless I get like... at least seven reviews! (seven's my favorite number)
It's really sad when no one reviews... and I was so inspired to write this fanfic...