THE VOWS WE NEVER SPOKE

Chapter 5: The Hidden Will

The storm hadn't let up. It’s been hours of it drumming against the glass walls of the penthouse as though the heavens wanted to break in by all means necessary. Lydia sat near the window, her reflection a pale echo in the dark pane. She hadn’t moved since it started raining, legs tucked to her chest, her phone lying untouched in front of her.

He killed for you. The words from Anonymous had scorched her chest, heavy, relentless. She’d thought of asking Damian. Demanding. Screaming. But each time he looked at her with piercing eyes, she found herself quiet, choked by uncertainty.

The quiet knock on her door cut through her thoughts. She didn’t respond but looked towards the door. Damian gently pushed the door open and walked in, hand in his pocket. It had been a rule in the house for Lydia never to lock her bedroom door. Damian’s presence filled the room, commanding, dangerous.

“You didn’t sleep,” he said, glancing at her curled frame.

Her throat tightened. She stared back at the storm. “Hard to sleep when you don’t know who to trust.”

He paused, loosened his tie while locking eyes with her. “What did they send you?”

Her pulse stuttered. She finally let her legs down, she clutched the hem of her nightdress dress and bit her lower lip. He knew. Somehow, he always knew. She opened her mouth to speak, but could only close it immediately and sigh. “Why do you think they sent me something?” she finally spoke after a few minutes of silence.

Damian crouched in front of her, his shadow swallowing hers. “Because I know how they operate and think. They’ll use half-truths, whispers, and edited clips. Enough to make you doubt me. Enough to break you.”

Her gaze flicked to him, searching for cracks in his mask. “And if it’s not half-truths?” She whispered.

He ran his fingers through his hair. His jaw tightened, but his voice remained low. “Then I’ll tell you everything.”

By morning, the tabloids screamed with her name. The Crest Bride’s secret past. Expelled Heiress in Diamonds. Paparazzi flashes exploded outside the building like gunfire.

Lydia sat at the breakfast table, unable to force down a single bite, when the butler brought in a package. No return address. Her name scrawled in thick, uneven ink. Damian stiffened as she reached for it. “Don’t.”

Her fingers hesitated on the paper. “Why not?”

“Because not every gift is meant to be opened.”

Her breath quickened. “It’s mine. My name is on it.”

Something flickered in his gaze, fear, she realized. Damian Crest, the man who commanded boardrooms like battlegrounds, was afraid. She tore into the wrapping anyway. Inside was a USB drive. Damian’s hand shot out. “Lydia!”

But she slipped past him, jamming it into her laptop before he could stop her. The screen lit with a single file: Final Testament.mp4. Her heart lurched. She clicked.

The video was grainy. A hospital bed came into view, her grandfather lying frail beneath the sheets. His breath was ragged. At the bedside sat Clarissa, whispering something she couldn’t make out. But then, the door opened. Damian entered. Lydia’s breath caught.

Clarissa calmly stood up, a single brow quirked, and she placed her hand on Damian’s chest, running her fingers gently down, but this was immediately stopped with swift movement as Damian slapped her hand off his chest. She gave a lopsided smirk and walked out of the room.

Her grandfather’s voice cracked through the static. “Damian… promise me. Keep her safe. Don’t let Clarissa… don’t let them take what’s hers. The will, hidden. Only she must know. Promise me.”

Damian leaned down, his voice hoarse. “I promise.”. The screen went black.

Lydia blinked hard, clenched her fist, she sucked in a sharp breath. “Why didn’t you mention anything? Do you know how hard it is to be in a room where everyone questions my worth?” Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her voice cracked as she spoke. “ You’ve been… you’ve been controlling me, locking me away, making me believe you were hiding things from me, and all this time, “ her throat closed. “All this time, you were doing what he asked.”

Damian didn’t move. His gaze was steady, but pain edged the corners of his eyes. “You weren’t ready. I protected you the best way I could.”

“I’ve been drowning. Day by day, life has been slipping out of me; you knew this but said nothing all along. Do you know what it’s like to hear your name spat like it’s filth?” She pressed a hand to her chest. “You should have told me. That was his last wish. Mine to know.”

He closed the distance between them, voice low, raw. “And if you knew before you could defend yourself? Before you were strong enough to fight them? Clarissa has been waiting for you to slip. Daniel too. If they knew about the will, they would have destroyed you before you ever touched it.”

Her breath faltered. “And what about you, Damian? What’s in this will that makes you so invested?”

For the first time, his mask cracked. His voice was steel wrapped in sorrow. “It’s everything. The company. The legacy. Power Clarissa has been clawing for years. But he didn’t trust anyone but you, and he left me with the responsibility of making sure it never falls into the wrong hands.”

Lydia let out a long exhale, soft and steady. She swayed where she stood, her mind spinning. All the venom, false accusations Clarissa had spewed, the torture she had endured for those long years, it was all leading to this. That night, the storm calmed, but Lydia’s soul did not.

The next morning, Damian insisted on taking her to a private meeting. Investors. Contracts. Normal, on the surface. But Lydia still couldn’t shake off all that had happened. As the car pulled up to the glass tower, her phone buzzed again. Anonymous.

If you step inside with him, you’ll never see the will. Never know the truth. Walk away now.

Her breath caught. Her hand gripped the door handle, caught between the world Damian anchored her to and the shadows pulling her in. “Lydia.” Damian’s voice was calm, but his eyes burned with something fierce. “Whatever happens in there, stand with me. Don’t falter.”

Her chest rose and fell too quickly. She opened her mouth, but before she could answer, a deafening c***k split the air. The car window beside her shattered in a spray of glass.

Someone had fired a shot.