The Seventh Vow

The Seventh Vow Chapter One – The Man at the Funeral Rain had a way of making grief feel heavier. It fell in long silver ribbons across the marble headstones, washing away fresh footprints almost as quickly as they were made. Black umbrellas dotted the cemetery like wilted flowers, and the air smelled of damp earth, lilies, and heartbreak. Seraphina Vale stood perfectly still before the polished mahogany casket. She hadn’t cried. Not when the doctors declared her father dead. Not when relatives she’d never met embraced her with hollow condolences. Not even when the priest spoke the words, “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” She simply stared at the casket, as though sheer determination could force it to open again. Her father had always kept his promises. “I’ll always come home before dinner.” “I’ll never let anything happen to you.” “No matter what, you’ll never be alone.” The last promise was the only one he’d failed to keep. Around her, executives from Vale Publishing whispered among themselves. Their expensive suits couldn’t hide their impatience. Most of them weren’t mourning Edward Vale. They were waiting. Waiting to see who would inherit one of the oldest publishing houses in the country. Waiting to see whether the company would survive. Waiting to see whether Seraphina, at only twenty-three, would crumble under the weight of an empire. A gust of wind tugged at the edge of her black coat. Then she felt it. Someone was watching her. The sensation crawled up her spine so suddenly that she turned before she could stop herself. Across the cemetery, standing several rows behind the mourners, was a man dressed entirely in black. He carried no umbrella. Rain soaked his dark hair and traced sharp lines down his face, yet he didn’t seem to notice. He wasn’t looking at the coffin. He was looking at her. Their eyes met. For one strange heartbeat, the noise around her disappeared. The priest’s voice faded. The rain became distant. The world narrowed to the stranger with the unreadable gray eyes. He inclined his head ever so slightly—a gesture that felt less like sympathy and more like recognition. Then someone stepped between them. When Seraphina looked again… He was gone. “…Miss Vale?” She blinked. Her father’s attorney, Harold Whitmore, offered a gentle smile. “They’re waiting for you.” She nodded automatically. The burial ended in a blur of condolences and handshakes she barely remembered. By evening, she found herself seated in her father’s study, surrounded by shelves of aging books that still carried his favorite scent of cedarwood and old paper. Nothing had been touched. His glasses rested beside an unfinished manuscript. His teacup sat exactly where he’d left it. It felt impossible that someone could vanish while leaving behind so many ordinary things. Harold cleared his throat. “Edward left explicit instructions that his will be read tonight.” Only five people were present. Harold. Seraphina. Her cousin Lucian. Chief Financial Officer Margaret Ellis. And the chairman of the board. Harold unfolded the document. “‘To my daughter, Seraphina Vale. If you are hearing this, then I have failed to outlive my own expectations.’” Despite herself, Seraphina smiled faintly. That sounded exactly like him. “‘The publishing company now belongs to you…’” Lucian shifted in his chair. Margaret’s expression remained carefully neutral. “’…provided you fulfill one condition.’” The room became still. Seraphina frowned. “What condition?” Harold adjusted his glasses. “It states that within ninety days, you must marry Damien Ashcroft.” Silence. “…Excuse me?” “I understand your confusion.” “No,” Seraphina said, standing abruptly. “You misunderstand. I don’t know anyone named Damien Ashcroft.” “You’ll meet him tomorrow.” “I am not marrying a stranger because my father wrote it in a will.” Harold’s expression softened. “If you refuse…” He slid another document across the desk. “…Vale Publishing transfers entirely to Ashcroft Holdings.” The blood drained from her face. “My father would never do this.” “I’m afraid he did.” Lucian finally spoke. “Edward wasn’t irrational. If he made this condition, there had to be a reason.” Seraphina stared at him. “A reason?” “My father dies yesterday, and today I’m being told to marry a man I’ve never met?” Her voice cracked for the first time. “No. There has to be some mistake.” “There isn’t.” Harold reached into a leather envelope. “There was one more instruction.” He handed her a sealed letter. Across the front, in Edward’s unmistakable handwriting, were six simple words. Do not trust what you remember. Seraphina’s heart skipped. “What does this mean?” Harold slowly shook his head. “He never explained.” Before anyone could speak again, the lights flickered. Once. Twice. Then the entire room fell into darkness. Someone gasped. Thunder rolled overhead. A crash echoed from the hallway. Lucian lunged for the door. By the time the lights returned seconds later… The study window stood wide open. Rain blew inside. Books littered the floor. And Edward Vale’s final handwritten manuscript… Had disappeared.