THE VOWS WE NEVER SPOKE

The Prowse Estate hadn’t changed in years. Same towering gates, same stone angels watching from the archway. But to Lydia Prowse, it now felt smaller. Colder. The estate still stood tall, and glided in silver like some royal mouth that only ever swallowed her whole. Lydia Prowse stood before them in the same blue dress she had left five years ago. Except then, she’d been dragged out in cuffs, screaming for someone, anyone, to believe her. Now, she stood alone, nothing but the clink of the estate’s security cameras greeting her return. Her hands, scarred from scrubbing iron sinks and concrete floors, trembled as she reached up to buzz the gate. She’d imagined this moment in that cold reform home countless times, how she would walk back in, reclaim her inheritance, clear her name, look her father in the eye, and ask, Why? But nothing could’ve prepared her for the laughter that drifted through the walls as she walked in. It was soft at first, like music, then a full-blown celebration. Lydia stepped back and peered through the bars, her heart slamming against her ribs. There was a wedding in the garden. Rows of white chairs, fresh lilies, crystal chandeliers dangling from oaks. And at the altar, in a tailored tuxedo, stood Daniel Crane, her Daniel. The man who had once knelt in this same estate with a ring and a promise. He stood now with his hands gently clasped over Clarissa’s, the same Clarissa who once wore Lydia’s clothes, stole her diary, and laughed at her grief like it was a punchline. Lydia’s breath paused. She stumbled forward before she realized she’d moved. “Daniel?” her voice cracked. Lydia pinched herself really hard, hoping to maybe wake up in the reform home she loathed, but at least it would be better than the nightmare in front of her. The music stopped. Every head turned. The next few moments happened in a blur of raised voices and judging faces. She stormed through the estate toward the garden, ignoring the shocked looks and stares of guests and relatives. She found Vivian first, her elegant stepmother, ever poised, a champagne flute in one hand, with a proud smile on her red lips. “Oh, Lydia, you are here?” Vivian said with a mock surprise. Lydia ignored her and walked towards Daniel, who was standing hand in hand with Clarissa. Her grip on him tightened while her smile didn’t falter. “Well, well. Look who we have here.” Lydia’s eyes locked on Daniel’s. He flinched. Couldn’t meet her gaze. “W..what is this?” She screamed at Daniel. Clarissa tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Oh, this? Just a wedding. You remember weddings, don’t you, Lydia? You used to plan one with Daniel before you poisoned dear grandfather.” She moved as she stood in front of me, while still clutching to Daniel’s arms. Gasps rippled through the guests as Clarissa fell to the ground, wailing. No wonder Daniel never texted or visited. She endured five years of torture and sadness because she thought she at least had Daniel, her childhood love, whom she couldn’t wait to return to. “What are you doing here?” Lydia turned sharply to see her father walking towards her angrily. Whack! Before she could utter a word, a slap landed on her cheek. She raised her hand to her cheek in disbelief. “How dare you show your shameless face here and cause my daughter so much grief?” He pushed me and walked past to Clarissa, who was still wailing on the floor. “Security,” she heard Daniel call out. “Escort her out.” Lydia’s grandfather had only accepted Daniel because of his love for Lydia. “He will toss you aside the chance he gets. He isn’t for you.”He never hesitated to say it every time. Despite the whole scene in front of her eyes, Lydia still couldn’t believe that Daniel would abandon her for Clarissa, of all women. Two guards stepped forward. Lydia shook her head, backing away. “You can’t do this. This is my home! My inheritance!” Vivian Prowse stepped forward and moved closer to Lydia as she whispered in her ear. “Not anymore.” “What do you mean? Grandfather left all these to me. Who are you to take it away?” Lydia barked at Vivian. “You haven’t changed; you are still spiteful despite how much love has been shown to you,” Daniel said. “You bastard!” Lydia darted for him but was seized by the guards. Lydia was dragged out of the garden amidst kicking and tears. She was thrown outside the estate gates, as she could faintly hear the ceremony resuming. Now she had nothing. No money. No degree. No allies. No family. She stayed on the floor, bawling her eyes out. She truly felt alone; she had endured so much only to return to nothing. She wasn’t going to lose like this; she wiped her tears with the hem of her dress and sighed deeply. She was made to stand up when she realized a hand was stretched towards her. “Rough homecoming? Lydia Prowse.” She blinked up into the gray eyes, sharper than glass. The man was tall, defined jaw line, commanding, his tailored suit black against the pale sky. “Who…?” He didn’t answer. His gaze slid to the estate behind her, then back to her tear-streaked face. “Perfect timing.” “What?” He released her shaking hand and slid a card into it. A name embossed in silver. Damian Crest. Her breath caught. Everyone knew that name. The billionaire who could buy and sell empires. Ruthless. Untouchable. She had overheard several times her father lashing out about a particular “Damian Crest” and how he was a “Money sucking demon.” He leaned close, his voice a blade against her skin. “Marry me, Lydia. One year. I’ll give you back everything they stole.” Her world tilted. “W…what?” Damian straightened, expression unreadable. “You heard me. I’ll restore your name, your inheritance, your life. In exchange, you marry me. Now.” Lydia stumbled back. “Why would you… You don’t even know me!” “I know enough.” His gaze pinned her, unflinching. “I know you’re broken. I know you have no other alternative. And I am giving you an offer no one else would.” “I can’t just agree to marry you,” Lydia responded calmly. “Well, well,” the wind carried the sound of cheers behind the gates. It was as if she was never even there. Her world was gone. “Twenty-four hours,” Damian said, stepping back. “You say yes, or you lose everything forever.” Lydia stared at him, chest heaving. “But…but why me?” For the briefest second, something raw flickered in his eyes. Pain. Regret. Something he quickly buried. “Because it has to be you.” A car door opened up behind him. A black limousine. He calmly got in without a word. Lydia stood in the road, clutching the card, heart pounding as the limousine disappeared. The last thing she heard was his voice echoing in her head. “Marry me, Lydia. Or lose everything.