Bound by the vow

Rain traced delicate patterns on the wide windows of the Moreau estate. The once-vibrant Parisian home now felt cold and hollow, like the man lying in the bedroom upstairs—Lucien Moreau, once a titan of Parisian real estate, now a frail shell of his former self. Eighteen-year-old Élodie Moreau stood quietly near the window, arms folded, her face pale and drawn. Her long chestnut hair cascaded over her shoulders, but even that did little to soften the worry etched into her expression. Her father was dying. The cancer had spread faster than anyone expected, and the doctors had given him only a few months—less, if they couldn’t pay for the advanced treatment at the private oncology center in Geneva. They didn’t have the money. Not anymore. All the inheritance, assets, and remaining family holdings were frozen or gone. Her father's rival had seen to that. A knock broke the silence. The butler opened the door. “Monsieur Damon Vallois is here.” The name froze her. Damon Vallois. The billionaire tycoon. Ruthless. Cold. And the man who had brought her father’s empire to its knees five years ago. He wasn’t just an enemy. He was the enemy. Élodie turned slowly as the tall figure entered the room. Damon was imposing, dressed in an immaculately tailored black coat, his jet-black hair slicked back, eyes grey and unreadable. He was in his early 30s, handsome in a dangerously sharp way—like a sculptor’s finest, darkest creation. “I heard Lucien is unwell,” he said casually, glancing around. “That’s... unfortunate.” Élodie didn’t speak. Her jaw tightened. She knew he hadn’t come out of sympathy. “What do you want?” she asked. “It’s not what I want,” Damon said, stepping closer. “It’s what you want. Your father’s life. His treatment.” She swallowed hard. “You can help him?” He gave a slight nod. “I already made the calls. Geneva’s best clinic. A private jet can take him tomorrow. He’ll have every chance.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Why? Why would you do this?” He paused before answering. “Because I want you.” Her world tilted. “What?” “Marry me,” Damon said flatly. “Not for love. For a contract. One year. You’ll be my wife in public. Quiet, obedient. No scandal. No emotion. After that, you’ll be free.” Élodie’s lips trembled. “You want to buy me like property?” He didn’t flinch. “Call it... leverage. I want something money can’t buy. Your presence. Your name. Your silence.” Tears slid down her cheeks, silent and burning. But her father… her only family… was dying. “I’ll do it,” she whispered. And just like that, her life changed.