Until The Vows Break

Aurora’s POV

I barely remembered driving to the hotel. The night blurred into fragments—Adrian’s lips on Arianna, the lawyer’s cruel announcement, Nathaniel’s piercing eyes cutting through me like glass. Everything tumbled together, jagged and senseless, leaving me with nothing but exhaustion and the hollow ache in my chest.

By the time I reached the reception desk, my chest was tight, my hands shaking as I slid my card across the polished marble counter. The lobby smelled of beeswax, polished wood, and expensive cologne. People moved around me in soft murmurs, bellboys wheeling carts, guests dressed in glittering clothes, laughter rising like a language I could no longer speak.

I wanted none of it.

“Suite or standard?” the receptionist asked, her voice gentle, rehearsed.

“Standard,” I said quickly, my voice brittle. I didn’t want luxury tonight. Luxury reminded me of Arianna—the glittering dresses, the staged smiles, the flawless photos posted online for strangers to worship. I wanted simplicity. Silence. A place where her shadow couldn’t reach me.

The receptionist nodded and slid a keycard across the counter. “Fifth floor. Room 509.”

I murmured thanks, clutching the card like a lifeline as I carried my bag toward the elevator. My heels clicked against the polished floor, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Inside the room, I let the door slam shut behind me, cutting off the world. The silence wrapped around me, almost suffocating, yet it was the first moment of safety I’d felt all night. I dropped my bag, kicked off my shoes, and collapsed onto the bed without even changing out of my gown.

The scarlet silk clung to my body uncomfortably, sticky with the sweat of betrayal, but I was too drained to peel it off. My only wish was to sink into the mattress, close my eyes, and sleep until the pain dulled.

But sleep never came.

Every time I shut my eyes, images stabbed me—Arianna’s smug smile, Adrian’s hand tangled in her hair, Halstead’s voice echoing with finality as he read Father’s will. Marriage. Inheritance. Betrayal. They circled me like vultures, tearing at what little I had left.

With a frustrated gasp, I pushed myself off the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. I turned the shower on as hot as it would go, stepping beneath the stream. The water scalded my skin, but I welcomed it, needing the burn to remind me I was still alive. I pressed my forehead against the cool tile and let the steam wrap around me, washing away the stink of the night.

By the time I stepped out, wrapped in a hotel robe, my hair damp and clinging to my neck, my mind was clearer—but the ache in my chest remained.

I padded barefoot across the plush carpet, intending to pour myself a glass of water, maybe stare out the window until exhaustion finally claimed me. But when I opened the door to grab a bottle from the hallway service tray, another door clicked open across from mine.

And there he was.

Nathaniel.

Still in his tailored suit, though the jacket hung open and his tie was loosened. His dark hair was slightly mussed, as if even perfection had been forced to crack. He looked out of place in the bland hallway, like a figure carved out of steel and dropped into the wrong world.

His gaze landed on me immediately, sharp and unreadable.

“You,” he said flatly, as though my existence had personally offended him.

I stiffened, tugging the robe tighter around me. “Don’t sound so thrilled.”

His eyes swept over me—cold, assessing, calculating. “Are you following me?”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“This is the second time tonight you’ve shown up where you don’t belong.” His tone dripped with arrogance, every syllable sharpened like a blade. “First the restaurant, now the hotel. Coincidence seems unlikely.”

My jaw dropped, disbelief mixing with outrage. “You think I’m following you? You barged into my dinner and tried to throw me out! And for the record, I booked this room with my own money, long before knowing you’d appear like a—” I faltered, grasping for a word sharp enough to wound. “—like a storm cloud!”

He smirked faintly, leaning one broad shoulder against the doorframe, his posture relaxed but his eyes gleaming with challenge. “A storm cloud?”

“Yes. Dark, brooding, and annoying.”

A beat of silence passed, the air thick between us. His gaze lingered a fraction too long, as if weighing me, dissecting me, trying to fit me into some box that made sense to him. It unsettled me, though I refused to let it show.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low, dangerous. “Stay out of my way. I don’t tolerate distractions.”

I stepped forward, fire igniting in my chest, meeting his gaze head-on. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not important enough to be a distraction.”

Something flickered in his expression, gone too quickly to name. Then he straightened, his smirk hardening into a mask of indifference. He gave me one last unreadable look before retreating into his room. The door shut with a quiet, final click.

I exhaled shakily, pressing my back to the wall. My pulse hammered in my ears. Out of all the people fate could’ve thrown at me tonight, it had to be him. The arrogant storm cloud who thought the world bent at his command.

I moved to my bed and lay down until sleep took over.

The next morning, sunlight spilled across the pool deck, glittering against turquoise water. The hotel was quieter now, the bustle of last night replaced by the lazy rhythm of early hours.

I sat at one of the lounge chairs, dressed simply in a pale sundress, a glass of orange juice sweating in my hand. My hair fell in loose waves over my shoulders, still damp from another shower. I wanted to feel new, renewed, but the weight of betrayal still pressed against my chest.

I stared at the water, my mind restless. I needed to think. I needed a plan.

Adrian’s betrayal was a wound. Arianna’s cruelty was salt poured into it. And Father’s will… his will had turned grief into war.

The estate shall pass to the daughter who marries first.

Those words echoed in my head like a curse. Arianna and Adrian would seize their advantage. They would laugh as they tore everything from me. Unless I moved first. Unless I found a way.

And then, like some cruel twist of irony, his voice broke into the quiet.

Nathaniel.

I froze, my drink halfway to my lips.

He stood on the other side of the pool, phone pressed to his ear, his posture rigid with tension. His deep voice carried across the water, sharp with impatience and authority.

“You have five days,” he barked. “Five. Find me a wife or you’re fired.”

My breath caught.

“Yes, I said wife,” he continued, his voice like steel. “If I don’t walk into that negotiation married, the international deal is gone. Do you understand what that means for this company? Billions, gone. No excuses. Fix it.”

He ended the call with a snap, his jaw clenched so tight I thought it might shatter. He slipped the phone into his pocket and stood for a long moment, staring out at the horizon, the storm inside him barely contained.

My mind whirled.

Five days. Wife. Deal.

Halstead’s words thundered back into my skull: The estate shall pass to the daughter who marries first.

My pulse quickened, my heart thundering against my ribs. Could this be it? Could this arrogant, impossible man be the answer to Arianna’s triumph?

The idea was insane. Reckless. Dangerous.

But so was I.

I straightened in my chair, studying him with new eyes. Nathaniel wasn’t just a storm cloud—he was lightning. Dangerous, blinding, unpredictable. The kind of lightning that could burn everything I touched.

But if I dared to reach for it, maybe—just maybe—I could change everything.

I swallowed hard, a spark of resolve flaring in my chest.

It was time to strike.