Unspoken Vows

Recently, there has been a new gossip circulating in the social circles. Everyone’s talking about how the third-generation only son of the Hunter family, Liam Hunter, who was said to have driven his elderly father to his grave, suddenly married. Liam Hunter, who swore to leave the family and then slunk back home in disgrace, married Zoe Blackwell, the apple of the Blackwell family’s eye. The two of them, one unfilial, the other untamed, seem like an unlikely match from across the world, yet in reality, they are quite suitable for each other. Since both their reputations were already tarnished, they decided to stop dragging others down and instead, muddle together and wallow in the mess they had created. For a time, the Hunter and Blackwell families were at the center of the gossip storm. Even their retired uncles, aunts, and cousins couldn’t escape the scrutiny. The past scandals were dug up and presented to the public, leaving everyone with their faces smeared. For example, the Hunter family's former scandals: 　　 “Hey, did you hear? That Hunter family’uncle used to date a female student...” 　　 “Wow, really pushing the boundaries of ethics, so bold!” The parties involved remained unusually calm. From the moment the news broke to the wedding preparations, the two hadn’t met. What most people didn’t know was that, on the eve of the wedding, they had a brief, hasty meeting. That night, the stunning Zoe Blackwell, dressed in a long gown, kicked open the door to Liam Hunter’s office. Fortunately, it was nearly midnight, and the office was empty. As a gust of wind blew through the door, Liam Hunter looked up, and the first thing he saw was a beautiful, white foot, a silver anklet jingling as the small diamonds shimmered with every step she took. “What’s the matter?” Liam Hunter frowned, displeased by the uninvited guest, who was soon to be his wife. "Soon to be wife," that is, they weren’t married yet. He wasn’t going to tolerate her bad temper and definitely didn’t want to be controlled by her before they even tied the knot. His assistant, Samson, stood up quickly, reading the atmosphere, and nervously moved a chair for Zoe Blackwell, who was carrying her dress with an imposing manner. “Please, sit down, Miss Blackwell,” he said, unsure of how to address her. In such confrontations, the most important thing is the aura. Even if you’re losing, you can’t lose face. Zoe Blackwell sneered, letting her dress fall and sitting down gracefully, her eyes locked on Liam Hunter’s. He was good-looking, with a sharp bone structure, a straight nose, and a presence that made it seem like his skin could barely contain his strong bones. One knock, and it would echo—strong, cold, and proud—never to bow. Yet, here he was, bowing his head to marry a woman he had never met, whose reputation wasn’t exactly spotless. Zoe Blackwell couldn’t believe it. She had to remind him. “Liam Hunter, we’re getting married tomorrow.” The man, being addressed, showed no reaction, elbows on his knees, patiently waiting for her next words. Zoe Blackwell asked, “You really won’t call off the wedding?” Liam Hunter paused, finally understanding what she meant. So, it was true—this woman had been waiting for him to break the engagement first, not reacting from the start, hoping he would be the one to destroy it. “Miss Blackwell, I think you might be misunderstanding. I truly intend to marry you.” Zoe Blackwell’s pupils dilated for a moment before she composed herself and coldly replied, “Mr. Hunter, I think you’re the one who misunderstood. I don’t intend to marry you.” “But the engagement is set,” Liam Hunter said unhurriedly, “Tomorrow, we’ll hold the wedding.” And they were supposed to perform the embarrassing show of exchanging rings and kissing in front of hundreds of guests. But they were still strangers! This plot, as if fast-forwarding, made Zoe Blackwell feel both mentally and physically uncomfortable. “I say, Liam Hunter, did you drown your brain in the Atlantic Ocean? Why did you change your mind after a trip abroad? You should have stayed as determined as you were before—absolutely refusing to marry me!” Liam Hunter, confused, asked, “Didn’t you hear the rumors outside?” “What rumors?” “Everyone says we’re getting married to eliminate the harm we bring to society.” He paused. “They even say we’re a match made in heaven.” “...And?” Zoe Blackwell raised an eyebrow. Liam Hunter said seriously, “In a certain sense, that’s true.” “Oh?” Zoe raised an eyebrow. “I won’t interfere with you, and you won’t fall in love with me,” Liam Hunter said in a flat tone. “Miss Blackwell, you won’t fall in love with me, right?” Zoe Blackwell snorted coldly. “I hope you don’t do something that would trouble us both.” “Well then, give me back Ashley.” Liam Hunter furrowed his brow, seemingly trying to recall who this person was. After a few seconds, he finally figured it out: "Are you talking about that male model who looks like a corn stalk, not even sure which continent he sailed over from?" Zoe Blackwell squinted, trying to remember who he meant. Actually, she had made up the name Ashley on the spot. She had so many young men she casually played with that she couldn’t possibly remember them all. She only knew that the reason she was so infuriated and had come here tonight was that when she had gone to the Pearl Lounge as usual and asked the manager to bring in a few people, the manager had been hesitant, and after much reluctance, admitted the truth under her questioning—Liam Hunter had pressured him. This man... “Liam Hunter, are you really planning to marry me?” She persisted, still questioning him. “I’ve already said so.” “Then, are you planning to fulfill the duties of a husband after marriage?” Seeing Liam Hunter’s obviously embarrassed expression, she smiled, her hand playing with her necklace, the dazzling diamond twinkling at her fingertips. She leaned forward, her strapless gown exposing her straight collarbones. “Fiancé, don’t blame me for not warning you, my needs in certain areas are... quite large.” “Well, that’s convenient. Same here,” Liam Hunter replied coldly. The wedding wasn’t affected by the unpleasant meeting that night, and the next morning, Windsor Park was bustling and peaceful. White tents, endless lawns, refreshing fountains, pure white balloons swaying in the wind—all adding to the grandeur of the wedding. Ignoring the couple’s indifferent reactions, for the guests attending, this was still a great social event—a chance to meet someone special, or at least have a brief fling. After all, life is short, and it’s better to live it to the fullest, just like the couple, who lived wildly for the first twenty years, only to be forced into a family marriage in their later years—the dreaded marriage tomb. At that moment, the two newlyweds were halfway through exchanging rings under the priest’s guidance. Liam Hunter slid the ring onto Zoe slender, gloved finger, and politely complimented, “Miss Blackwell, you look beautiful today.” It was the first time he had truly taken a good look at her. After their hurried meeting last night, he could already see her beauty, but today, with her careful preparations, she looked as precious as jade, as transparent as glass—something you just couldn’t take your eyes off. But she was just beautiful. There was no lust in Liam Hunter’s eyes. Zoe took the ring and slowly pushed it onto his finger. His hands were long and clean, more like a scholar’s than a businessman’s. She lowered her head and smiled faintly. “It’s my first time, so of course, I want to appear perfect.” The priest said, “I have witnessed you swear to love each other. I now announce to everyone that you are officially husband and wife. Now, the groom may kiss the bride.” “Oh? How many times do you want?” Liam didn’t hear the answer. The balloons rose into the sky, and cheers from the crowd drowned out Zoe voice. She looked up and saw the man’s handsome face coming closer. The moment their lips touched; she smelled his faint fragrance. Closing her eyes. Damn it, it was a good scent. By the time they returned to their room, it was late. Zoe changed out of her wedding dress and leaned against the vanity; her beauty reflected in her relaxed, lazy pose. Liam Hunter entered the room, his face weary, and he frowned slightly. Pulling at his collar, he sat on the soft leather sofa and said flatly, “You’re Mrs. Hunter now. Don’t socialize freely in the future.” “You said last night we wouldn’t interfere with each other.” “That’s true,” he said, loosening his tie, his shirt collar open, revealing his devil-may-care charm. “But if you go out and cause trouble, it’ll affect both our families’ image.” “Well, then what should I do?” Zoe sat in front of him. “How about you open a brothel for me, and I’ll pop in there?” Her crude words surprised Liam Hunter, and he raised an eyebrow. He even considered the possibility for a moment, but then gave a cold hum, “I don’t want to wear a green hat so soon.” “So, what should we do?” What should they do? Liam Hunter found it amusing. He had never been troubled by such a problem himself. It seemed that the rumors from years ago were not without reason. Seeing Zoe watching him closely with a mischievous look, he asked with curiosity, “What do you want?” Zoe observed his expression and said, “Let’s get divorced.” Talking about divorce on their wedding night—it was an omen of bad luck. The two of them didn’t reach an agreement. That night, Liam Hunter flew to Brussels to attend an international economic forum. Zoe, wrapped in a shawl, stood at the door, waving as the car drove away. The man had no feelings for her, but his good upbringing made him walk back to the porch before getting in the car, kissing her forehead gently. He said, “I’ll be gone for three days. Don’t go out and cause trouble.” After a moment, as if speaking to a lover, he gently tugged her earlobe and whispered, “Stay good until I get back. If you have any thoughts, we’ll talk about them later.” To anyone watching, this scene was one of a newlywed couple parting with reluctance, while a few older servants exchanged pleased looks. —The young master and madam are so close. —Are they really forced to marry?