Real Vows and Ruthless Enemies
1354 Words
The estate’s ballroom glittered under the soft glow of chandeliers, a private garden blooming just outside the glass doors. It was far more intimate than the grand staged wedding that had made headlines weeks ago.
Tonight, there were no cameras, no PR teams, no reporters.
Just Elara in an ivory silk dress, Cassian in a tailored navy suit, and a circle of people who mattered. Livia, Kara, a few of Cassian’s trusted business allies, and Jameson, the family lawyer officiating their second set of vows.
Real ones.
Elara’s hands trembled slightly as she held Cassian’s, not from fear, but from the weight of choice.
This time, there was no contract binding them. Just something deeper. Something raw.
Cassian’s voice was low but steady. “I vow to protect you, to choose you, even when the world calls it weakness. You are not my liability, Elara. You are my center.”
Her chest tightened.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and spoke.
“I vow to stand with you, even when it’s easier to run. To remind you, you’re more than power. You’re a man worthy of love, flaws and all.”
Cassian’s jaw flexed slightly. His grip on her hand tightened, almost as if those words wounded and healed him all at once.
Jameson declared them husband and wife. Again.
But this time, when Cassian kissed her, it wasn’t a performance.
It was a claim.
And Elara gave herself to it completely.
Later that night, she lay in Cassian’s bed, their bed now, watching the shadows play across the ceiling.
He was beside her, propped up on one elbow, fingers tracing slow patterns along her shoulder.
“This doesn’t change everything,” he said. “Julian’s still out there. The board’s divided.”
“But it changes us.” She rolled toward him. “And that’s where he underestimated us.”
Cassian smiled faintly. “You really believe we’re stronger together?”
“I believe we’ve only just begun to show them what that looks like.”
He leaned down, his voice brushing her ear.
“Then let’s show them everything.”
The next morning, Cassian convened a meeting with the full board.
It was time to go on the offensive.
Livia, dressed in a sleek burgundy pantsuit, passed out updated reports.
“Elara’s recent appearance doubled our stock engagement numbers. We’ve seen an 11% boost in public sentiment. The media’s turning back in our favor.”
“But the allegations about the Vermont estate—” one board member began.
Cassian cut him off. “...have been legally debunked. I didn’t hide the asset. I gifted it. And I’d do it again.”
Elara stood at his side, no longer in the corner.
“I know some of you have doubts,” she said clearly. “So ask yourself this, if I were a man who’d struggled with depression and recovered, would you question my place beside the CEO?”
Silence.
She continued. “The answer tells you whether this is about my past, or your prejudice.”
Julian wasn’t present, of course.
He preferred sabotage from the shadows.
But Livia passed her phone to Cassian discreetly. A text had just come in from one of Julian’s former assistants.
He’s planning something. Tomorrow. With the press.
A Video.
Cassian’s eyes narrowed. “What video?”
No one knew. But they didn’t have long to find out.
That evening, Cassian and Elara returned to the estate only to find Kara pacing the marble foyer.
“I did some digging,” she said. “Julian hired a private investigator. Six months ago. Guess what he was looking into?”
Elara went cold. “Me?”
Kara nodded grimly. “He got footage. From before the wedding. From when you were still... unstable.”
Elara’s mind raced.
“There’s nothing illegal in that,” Kara continued. “But depending on how it’s edited... it could look damning.”
Cassian didn’t hesitate. “Then we control the narrative before he does.”
That night, they made a decision.
They would hold a press conference; no spin, no deflection. They’d own everything. Not as a business couple. But as them.
Cassian called in favors. Livia orchestrated logistics. Kara tightened security.
And Elara, for the first time in years, stood in front of a mirror and saw herself not as broken, but as bold.
“You’re ready for this?” Cassian asked quietly that morning.
“No,” she said honestly. “But I’m still doing it.”
He smiled.
“Then that makes two of us.”
At the press conference, the room buzzed with reporters, microphones, and flashing lights.
Cassian spoke first.
“Many of you have questions. Some planted. Some honest. But we’re not here to hide.”
He gestured to Elara.
She stepped forward, meeting the room’s gaze.
“I’ve struggled with my mental health. I’ve been through a breakdown. I sought help. And I’m not ashamed of surviving.”
Flashes went off like lightning. Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
“I wasn’t hired. I wasn’t rescued. I was chosen. And not because I’m perfect,but because I’m not.”
The moment was real, raw, unforgettable.
When they left the stage, the air outside felt like oxygen for the first time in days.
Cassian took her hand.
And for a while, they just walked.
No strategy. No plotting. Just silence and the knowledge that they were no longer playing roles.
They were living as them.
But peace never lasted long.
That night, Livia burst into the room holding a USB drive. “You need to see this.”
It was the leaked video Julian had promised.
They watched it on the large screen in Cassian’s office.
Grainy footage showed Elara in a pharmacy, pale, shaking. Another clip of her screaming at a nurse in the facility lobby. One of her crying alone in a park, head buried in her knees.
Each clip was real. But each was out of context.
No sound. No dates. Just devastation.
Cassian’s jaw was stone.
“He crossed the line.”
Elara said nothing. She watched her worst moments parade across the screen like a funeral march. Then she turned it off.
“Let him leak it.”
Cassian stared at her. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.” She straightened. “Because we’ve already told the truth. That video will backfire. It will show exactly what we’ve been saying—I was broken. And I got back up.”
He didn’t answer. But the pride in his eyes said enough.
Julian released the video the next morning.
And just as Elara predicted, the tide shifted again, this time, violently.
The public was outraged.
“This is low.”
"She told her story. Why dig it up like this?"
"She's stronger than half the men in power."
Celebrities tweeted support. Advocates praised her vulnerability. Investors reconsidered.
Within 48 hours, Julian was forced to backpedal.
He issued a statement denying involvement, but Livia leaked the assistant’s messages anonymously.
The damage was done.
Julian's allies on the board began to defect.
And Elara stood taller than she ever had.
The following weekend, Cassian invited her to the rooftop terrace—private, quiet, overlooking the city.
He had two glasses of wine waiting. A small velvet box sat between them.
Her breath caught.
“Cassian…”
He opened it—not to reveal a ring, but a key.
“To the Vermont estate,” he said softly. “It’s yours. Not for strategy. Not for defense. Just because I want you to have a place that’s safe. Yours. Always.”
Tears stung her eyes.
“I already have that,” she whispered. “Right here. With you.”
He leaned in, forehead against hers.
“This war isn’t over. But I want you to know, Elara—I’m not fighting it alone anymore. I’m fighting it with you.”
And as the wind whispered around them and the city glowed beneath, Elara realized something powerful:
She hadn’t just survived her past.
She was finally, gloriously, living her future.
- Writer
