THE VOWS WE NEVER SPOKE

Chapter 3: The GALA

The Crest Foundation Gala was the kind of event where fortunes changed with a handshake, and reputations shattered with a whisper. The Crest ballroom gleamed like a jewel box, crystal chandeliers spilling light over marble floors, champagne flutes catching the glitter.

The air smelled of roses and affluence, threaded with violin music and the low murmur of powerful men and women. Lydia entered on Damian’s arm. His hand barely brushed her back, steadying without coddling, guiding her through the swarm of eyes that latched onto them like hooks. Her gown, lavender silk, was armor disguised as softness. But every step felt like walking into a trap.

“Keep your chin high,” Damian murmured, not looking at her. “They’ll want to see you break.”

Break. She frowned, her brows tightening. She almost laughed. She’d broken long ago, not after everything she had been through.

The whispers had already begun when she spotted them, Clarissa and Daniel. They stood near the champagne tower, Clarissa in crimson satin that clung to her like fire, Daniel’s arm draped lazily around her waist. His eyes found Lydia instantly. Too quickly. Clarissa’s smile sharpened when she noticed.

“My, my,” Clarissa said as they approached, her voice like sugar sprinkled over shards. “Lydia, I didn’t think you’d actually pull it off. Mrs. Crest. Quite the promotion from…” a crooked smile, broke from the edge of her lips, her eyes flicked over Lydia’s gown, pausing on the diamond bracelet that had once belonged to Lydia’s mother. “…from nothing.”

Daniel leaned in with a crooked smile. “Damian Crest. Didn’t think you’d go for damaged goods. But then again, maybe you’ve always had a taste for the… unconventional.” his lips curled into a sneer.

Damian stood tall next to her, one hand in his pocket and the other still supporting Lydia’s back. He hadn’t uttered a word to either of them; his expression remained still and calm.

Lydia dug her nails into her palms, she exhaled through her nostrils, jaw tight, and eyes narrowed. Damian said nothing as he remained calm. His silence was louder than their mockery, but the sting burned anyway. The night should have moved past them. It didn’t.

A sudden hush washed over the room, interrupting the string quartet’s melody. Phones lifted. All faces turned toward the stage. The screen, meant for tributes, flickered, then filled with Lydia’s image. Younger. College days. The words beneath the photo burned. Disciplinary Record.

Another image. Another caption: Expelled. Disowned. Killer.. Gasps. Laughter. Murmurs swelling like thunder.

“Is that her?” someone whispered too loudly.

“They let her in here?” another hissed.

“Did Damian Crest really marry her?”

Clarissa’s delighted chuckle slithered through the chaos. “Oh, darling,” she walked slowly towards Lydia as she waggled her eyebrows. “Looks like the skeletons in your closet don’t stay buried for long.”

Daniel’s eyes glimmered with cruel amusement, and soon he was next to his wife. “Careful, Clarissa. Damian might enjoy her flaws. Males her…pliable.”

Lydia’s lips parted slightly, but no word came out. She bit her bottom lip as she stared at the room. Everyone seemed to be pointing accusing fingers at her. She immediately remembered when she was being dragged from the house as she begged her father to help her. It was her grandfather’s 70th birthday party, and he had suddenly slumped after drinking the wine Lydia had given to him. Clarissa screamed as she burst into tears, saying she didn’t believe I would do something like that.

She said she had seen Lydia put something inside the drink she had offered her grandfather. Lydia pleaded for everyone to believe her, saying she had no reason to poison her grandfather. By the time the police arrived and searched the house, they found a bottle of poison in her room. She was whisked away in handcuffs.

She dug deep into her palms, holding her breath as she looked around. Damian moved. He strode across the stage, his presence a blade cutting through the noise. With a single gesture, the screen went black. He ripped the microphone from the host’s hands, his voice slicing into the silence..

“She is innocent. Every headline paid for. You think I’d stand beside anyone unworthy of my name? You think character is measured in mistakes? Then perhaps you should stand up here and show us your own records.” His gaze swept the crowd, sharp enough to draw blood. “Or do cowards only prey on women?”

A ripple of unease passed through the ballroom. No one dared answer. When he returned to Lydia, his hand found hers, not gently, but firmly, anchoring her. Cameras flashed like lightning as he led her away. Behind them, Clarissa’s laughter followed, mocking, hollow.

“Run, Lydia,” She called after them. “It’s the only thing you’ve ever been good at.” The words cut deeper than she’d admit.

In the car, silence pressed like stone. Lydia’s reflection in the window looked pale, fragile. Damian’s profile was unreadable, carved from shadow.

“I won't ever let anyone break or harm you,” he said at last, his voice low, dangerous. “I don’t let anyone break what is mine.” Her heart lurched at the possessive weight in his tone, but confusion tangled it with anger. Was she his shield? His Pawn? Or something else entirely?

Later, in her room, lavender clung to the air. Her gown lay in a heap across the floor, but her mind was still replaying Clarissa’s words, Daniel’s smirk, the flash of her own failures projected for the world to see.

The phone buzzed. She jolted.

Anonymous.

Her stomach twisted as she opened it. “Enjoying Damian’s protection? Ask him why your grandfather’s last words were silenced. Ask him why Clarissa was there. The truth is darker than you think.”

Attached was a file.

Lydia pressed play, her fingers trembling. Her grandfather’s voice, weak, fading: “…DAmian…not what he seems…tell Lydia…Clarissa knows…”

The clip ended abruptly.

Her blood ran cold. Clarissa. Damian. Together. Her grandfather’s final warning was swallowed in shadows. The phone slipped from her hands. Tears burned hot, blurring the lavender into nothing.

And then, three words lit up her screen. Another message. “He killed for you.”