THE VOW OF ICE

The room reeked of acrid chemicals. A mix of disinfectant, sterile plastic, the sharpness of antiseptic, and the heavy sting of fear clinging to the air. Eagan stood still in the doorway, his palms sweating. The boy in him wanted to run to his father's side, to grab his father’s hand and beg him not to go. But the man his father had made him too young, too fast kept his back straight and his jaw tight. Lucan Eremon, once the sharpest mind in the tech world, lay there pale and wasted. His eyes were still fierce, though, blue ice that burned with a truth Eagan wasn’t ready to hear. “Come closer, son.” Eagan swallowed hard and stepped forward. The floorboards groaned under his sneakers, and for a moment he was just a boy again, ten years old, knees shaking, heart pounding. Lucan’s hand shot out, weak but steady, fingers curling around Eagan’s wrist. The touch sent a strange pulse up his arm, like static before a storm. “Do you remember what I told you, the day your mother left?” Lucan’s voice was raw, rasping with the effort of every word, that of a dying man. Eagan’s chest tightened. “You told me… not to trust her.” Lucan’s gaze sharpened. “I told you more than that, Son. " Love, Eagan… is a weapon. It’s the sharpest blade in the hands of a woman who knows where to strike. Your mother proved that.” He didn’t want to talk about her. Didn’t want to remember the way she had walked out, the way she had turned her back on them when her father’s empire crumbled. “Dad” “No.” Lucan’s grip tightened, surprisingly strong. “Swear it to me, here and now.” Swear you will never give your heart to a woman. Not for a day. Not for a moment. Not even in your thoughts. Eagan shook his head. “Why? What does that mean?” “Because it will destroy you.” Lucan’s tone was like steel. There is more to our blood than you know. The Oath keepers do not survive broken vows. You will not survive them. Do you understand me? “Oath keepers?” The word felt heavy on his tongue. Eagan burst into tears, crying out loud. Daddd Lucan’s lips twisted into something between a smile and a grimace. “You will learn. But now, you must promise.” Eagan’s throat was dry. “I promise.” “Say the words.” “I swear never to give my heart to a woman,” Eagan repeated, his voice trembling. The air changed instantly. It pressed in around him, thick and cold, shadows stretching long against the walls. A deep, icy ache bloomed in his chest, as though a shard of frost had pierced straight through his heart. Somewhat of a tattoo but more of a scar in a snow crystal form. Lucan’s eyes closed for a moment in satisfaction. “Good. You are bound now.” The cold throb in Eagan’s chest didn’t fade. He wanted to ask what his father meant, bound how, but Lucan’s breathing hitched. His hand slipped from Eagan’s wrist. His chest rose once… twice… and stilled. Eagan's body is in shock and hibernation. He lost all consciousness, floating in the room wind, frosty ice circling around him mid air and a little spark of fire diminishing. In the doorway was his little brother witnessing it all passed out. The silence that followed was deafening. The funeral was a blur. Black suits. Black umbrellas. Faces he didn’t recognize offering pity he didn’t want. His heart had hardened. The Eremon name still carried weight, but it was a weight that was crushed now, not lifted. Whispers rippled through the crowd about bankruptcy, betrayal, and a wife who vanished when the money did. Eagan ignored them all. He stood beside the coffin with his brother gripping his hand strongly, small against the towering frame of his uncle, who spoke to investors like the funeral was a networking event. The rain fell harder, plastering his dark hair onto his forehead. When the ceremony ended, people offered him empty condolences. Some squeezed his shoulder, some brushed past him. And then it happened. A woman, a stranger, touched his arm. It was just a polite gesture, a faint squeeze meant to comfort. Agony tore through his chest. It was sharp, cold, and absolute, as if a block of ice had suddenly formed around his heart. His vision blurred, the world slowed. For one breathless moment, it felt like time itself had stopped. He could feel the mark on his chest growing and stretching all over his body. The woman moved on, oblivious. Eagan gasped quietly and clenched his fists until the pain dulled. But deep inside, something told him the vow was real. Deadly real. Fifteen Years Later The city glittered beneath him like circuitry. On the top floor of Eros Tower, Eagan Eremon stood with a tumbler of amber liquid in one hand, the other tucked in his pocket. The skyline reflected in the glass before him, all steel and light. He had built his empire from nothing, brick by brick. People called him cold. Ruthless. Unreachable, the one he loves the most is ''the Ice Prince", which put a smile on his face without them knowing how literally it meant. They weren’t wrong. Every connection was transactional. Every partnership was temporary, and every woman who had ever tried to get close was kept at arm’s length, for her sake and his. But tonight, something was different. His assistant’s voice crackled through the intercom. “Mr. Eremon, your nine o’clock is here.” He didn’t turn. “Send them to the conference room.” A pause. “It’s her, sir. The Keen heiress.” Eagan’s fingers tightened around the glass. He knew of Kaia Keene, every headline, every scandal, every rumor about her billion-dollar art empire. Their worlds had never collided directly, and he had made sure of it. Until now. WTF, what is she doing here? The conference room’s door swung open, and the first thing he noticed was that she didn’t look impressed. Kaia Keen walked in like she owned the place. Dark hair framed a face that was both striking and unreadable. Her golden eyes swept over him, lingering just long enough to make her point: she wasn’t intimidated. “Mr. Eremon”, she said smoothly. “Miss Keen.” His voice was even, but his chest tightened unexpectedly—just a faint echo of that cold, breath-stealing pain. He masked it instantly. “I hear you have something that belongs to me,” she said. He raised a brow. “That depends. I have many things that don’t belong to anyone else.” Her lips curved in the faintest smile, but her eyes didn’t warm. “An artifact. Celtic. It was part of a private auction… until your people outbid mine.” "If it was so precious to you, then you shouldn’t have lost the bid." Eagan leaned back in his chair. "Well, it’s part of my personal collection now." She stepped closer, palms flat on the table. “I want to see it.” That was when it happened. Her fingers brushed his as she slid a document across the table. The cold hit him like a blade. Time slowed. His breath caught. The room dimmed around the edges. For a moment, he thought his heart had stopped. When the world snapped back into place, she was watching him closely. “Something wrong, Mr. Eremon?” He forced a faint smirk. “Not at all. But you should be careful, Miss Keen. Touching me can be… dangerous.” Eagan grabs her...