Bound by Vows and Lies

CHAPTER ONE

The Proposal

The musical clink of plates and flatware filled the humble kitchen as Elena Reed carefully cleaned the remainders of their pitiful supper from the dishes. Her hands moved precisely, the harsh sponge scraping porcelain as her brain meandered to the endless pressure that loomed over their family. The murmurs, the looks, the implicit distress — it had become deplorable.

From the other room, her parents' quieted discussion developed stronger, their voices sharp with direness. Although she was unable to make out the specific words, the heaviness of their tones told her enough. It was a monetary issue. It was dependably about money.

"Elena," her dad called, his voice slicing through the commotion of her viewpoints. "Come in here."

A bump shaped in her throat. She dried her hands gradually, fear twisting in her stomach like smoke. At the point when she went into the little lounge room, her dad was roosted on the edge of the couch, his fingers squeezed together as though in supplication. Her mom sat beside him, wringing her hands and projecting apprehensive looks between Elena and her husband.

"Elena," Charles started, his voice stressed and new. "We've come to a conclusion."

Elena's heart sank. Conclusions were never great news. "What conclusion?" she asked carefully.

Charles wavered, the heaviness of the words apparently pulling at his shoulders. "We've gotten an answer to our… condition."

Her mom let out an unstable breath, her hands shaking. "It's a rare opportunity, Elena," she added delicately.

Elena's stomach curved. "What sort of opportunity?"

Her dad inclined forward, his look fixed on the floor like he was unable to bear to look at her without flinching. "There's a man… an extremely compelling man. He will help us. To offset every one of our arrears."

Something cold and weighty settled in her chest. "And what does he demand in return?"

Charles looked into the air, at that point, his eyes dim in guilt. "He wants to marry you."

The quietness that followed was deafening. Elena gazed at him, wanting to believe she must have misheard.

"Marry me?" she rehashed, her voice breaking.

"Yes," Charles said rapidly, as though saying it quicker would make it less shocking. "It's nothing but a normal game plan. It's… it's more similar to an agreement. He really wants a spouse for reasons of his own, and we — "

"You want to sell me," she said straight, her voice shaking.

"Elena, it isn't like that," her mom added, tears overflowing in her eyes. "This is about saving us. Saving us all."

Her dad proceeded, his tone developing more earnest. "You don't comprehend the situation we're in. In the event that we don't find an exit plan soon, we'll lose everything. The house, your mom's clinical medicine — everything. This marriage is our only opportunity."

Elena made a stride back, her legs out of nowhere insecure. "So that is it? You've previously made the decision for me?"

"Nobody is pressuring you," Charles said, though his demeanor betrayed the falsehood. " But I'm asking you to ponder over how this could favor us."

Elena's voice rose, outrage rising to the surface. "Do you try and hear yourself? You're requesting that I marry a strange man to fix your slip-ups!"

Margaret went after her, yet Elena got far off. "Darling, please," her mom asked. "He's not… he's not a terrible man."

Elena giggled sharply. "Not a terrible man? Who requests for a spouse like they're arranging an agreement?"

Before anybody could reply, the doorbell rang, its sharp toll cutting through the pressure. Her dad stood unexpectedly, smoothing his messed shirt as he pushed toward the entryway.

"Who is it?" Elena asked, her stomach beating.

Charles looked at her behind him, his demeanor incoherent. "It's him."

Her breath seized. "He's here?"

Margaret's hand rippled apprehensively to her chest. "We thought it was best for you to meet him immediately," she said unobtrusively.

Elena barely had the time to deal with the betrayal before the front door opened. The man who entered was nothing similar to what she had envisioned. He was tall and wide-shouldered, his dark suit custom fitted flawlessly. Every little thing about him screamed control and power, from the sharp line of his jaw to the puncturing dim eyes that cleared the room.

"Elena," Charles said, his voice surprisingly respectful, "this is Damian Blackwood."

Damian's look locked onto hers, surveying, analyzing. Briefly, Elena felt like the ground underneath her had vanished.

"You should be the lady," he said without a hitch, his voice profound and cool.

"I'm not your lady," Elena shot back, her resentment erupting.

A glimmer of entertainment crossed his face. "Not yet."

Charles made a sound as if to speak apprehensively. "Why don't we sit down and iron this out — "

"That won't be important," Damian intruded in, his tone brief. "I possibly came to check whether she lives up to my assumptions."

Elena shuddered. "Assumptions? I'm not something you can examine and choose to buy."

Damian's eyes obscured, the entertainment blurring. "You're entering a contract. Try not to romanticize it."

Elena's heartbeat was stimulated. She opened her mouth to answer, but her dad ventured between them, his voice arguing. "Please, both of you, how about we keep this common. Damian, we're appreciative of your proposal. Elena simply needs time to… conform to the thought."

Damian's look didn't falter from Elena. "I don't have time to waste. You have until tomorrow to choose."

"Tomorrow?" Elena shouted, her voice rising. "You expect that I should decide this within 24 hours?"

"I expect that you should consider your family's endurance," Damian said briskly. "If you can't, then, you're not the lady I really want."

The words stung more than they ought to have. Elena gripped her clenched hands, pushing herself to meet his look. "You know nothing about me."

"What's more, I don't have to," Damian answered, his tone contemptuous. He turned to Charles, his movement sharp and intentional. "I trust you'll keep me posted." Without waiting for a reaction, he made for his exit.

As the door clicked shut behind him, the quietness in the room was ear-piercing. Elena turned to her parents, her voice shaking with a combination of outrage and despondency.

"How could you ever do this to me?" she requested.

Margaret started to wail, her delicate self-control breaking altogether. "We had no way out," she murmured.

Charles stood quietly, his shoulders drooped under the heaviness of his guilt.

Elena dismissed, her chest fixing. She felt caught, like the walls of the house were surrounding her. Before she could leave the room, her dad's voice halted her.

"There's something else you ought to be aware of," he said discreetly, his words weighty with importance.

Elena froze, fear prickling down her spine. "What?"

Charles delayed, his face pale. "Damian isn't the only one engaged in this game plan."

"What does that mean?" Elena asked, her voice scarcely perceptible.

Before he could reply, a shadow passed outside the window, and a sharp thump came at the door.

Margaret wheezed, grasping at her chest. Charles raced to the door and pulled it open mindfully. A man stood on the porch, his sharp elements enlightened by the weak sparkle of the streetlamps.

"Good evening," the man said, grinning. "I believe we have some incomplete business."

Elena's stomach contorted as she watched her dad's face go pale. She didn't have any idea who the man was, however, something about him felt wrong. The manner in which he checked out on her, cold and computing, sent a chill down her spine.

"Victor," Charles said dryly, his voice scarcely over a murmur.

The man's grin enlarged. "You didn't think I'd avoid this, did you?"

Elena's blood ran cold as Victor's eyes met hers, and for the first time, she understood the gravity of the trouble she was going to get into.