Beneath His Vows

Chapter One — Ivy

The elevator ride felt like a noose tightening around my neck.

I stood between two silent men in dark suits who hadn’t spoken a word since they picked me up from the courthouse. They weren’t threatening—not directly—but everything about them screamed, You’re not in control.

And I wasn’t.

Not since this morning. Not since my father was dragged out of our home in handcuffs. Not since the whispers started. Fraud. Embezzlement. Collapse.

My fingers curled tighter around the thin handle of my purse, trying to stop the trembling. I hadn’t even had time to change out of the funeral-black dress I wore to court. It clung to my skin, wrinkled, cold.

The elevator stopped on the 74th floor.

Wolfe International.

I followed them without a word, my heels clicking on the marble like gunshots. The office was silent, sleek, and unnaturally still. Every assistant we passed lowered their eyes. Every hallway seemed longer than the last.

And then—

A door opened, and I saw him.

Cassian Wolfe.

He stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, back turned to me, staring out over London like the city belonged to him. Maybe it did. His tailored suit looked like it was worth more than our entire house. His posture was straight, shoulders squared, hands clasped behind his back like a general preparing for war.

He didn’t turn around when he spoke.

“You’re late.”

My voice caught in my throat. “They didn’t tell me where I was going.”

His head turned slightly. “And you followed them anyway.”

He finally faced me, and I forgot how to breathe.

Tall. Sharp. Like someone had carved him out of stone and arrogance. His eyes were cold and unreadable, the same slate grey as the storm rolling in behind him.

“This won’t take long,” he said, motioning toward the chair across from his desk.

I sat without speaking. What was I supposed to say? Thank you for the summons?

Cassian picked up a thin stack of papers and slid them toward me.

“A contract,” he said. “Two years. You’ll marry me, play the part, and keep your mouth shut. In return, I’ll clear your father’s debts and restore the Monroe name enough to keep you from starving.”

I blinked. “I… I don’t understand.”

“Yes, you do.” He leaned forward, eyes piercing. “Your father’s empire is dust. Your accounts are frozen. Your options are zero. And lucky for you, I have a solution.”

“A marriage contract?” I whispered. “Why would you—”

“Because I said so.”

His voice wasn’t raised. It didn’t need to be. The authority in it was absolute.

“You want reasons?” he continued. “Fine. My mother wants me married for the board vote next quarter. She’s getting old. Sentimental. Believes having a wife will make me seem more human. You fit the image.”

“And if I say no?”

He shrugged, cool and indifferent. “Then your father rots in prison. Your family name stays ruined. And your life—what’s left of it—fades into nothing.”

I opened my mouth, but no words came.

Was this really happening?

“You have until the end of the day to sign,” he said. “The wedding is scheduled for Friday. Silent ceremony. No press. No guests.”

“This is insane.”

Cassian’s expression didn’t change.

“What’s insane is thinking you have a better option.”

I stared down at the papers. Clean font. Crisp white. Somewhere near the bottom, I saw my name already typed: Ivy Monroe.

“Why me?” I asked quietly.

For the first time, something flickered in his eyes. Not warmth—no, it wasn’t that. Something sharper. Sadder.

“Because your mother owes mine a debt,” he said, voice flat. “And because, frankly, you were convenient.”

I felt like I’d been slapped.

“But don’t mistake convenience for mercy,” he added. “I’m not saving you. I’m owning you.”