Vows of the Ruthless

The Wedding No One Expected

Ariana stood in front of the mirror, staring at the woman reflected back at her.

A stranger.

The white gown was elegant—long sleeves, intricate lace, a modest neckline—but she felt suffocated.

Marrying Damian Kingsley was part of her plan but not this early and the agreement.

Yet here she was, minutes away from becoming his wife.

Miss Olivia, Damian's housekeeper, stepped into the room with a soft smile. "It's time, dear."

Ariana inhaled deeply. No turning back now.

---

At the Altar

The wedding was a private affair.

No grand church, no flashing cameras, no audience—just the cold reality of a contract marriage.

The officiant stood at the front of the Kingsley estate's grand hall.

Damian was already waiting.

Dressed in a black tailored suit, his piercing blue eyes locked onto her as she approached.

Ariana's heart pounded. Why did he look so… unreadable?

She reached the altar. Their eyes met.

"Shall we begin?" the officiant asked.

Damian nodded.

Ariana kept her chin high. She wouldn't falter now.

---

The Vows of the Ruthless

The words felt heavy.

"I, Damian Kingsley, take you, Ariana Carter, to be my lawfully wedded wife."

His voice was smooth, steady. Unshaken.

Ariana swallowed.

"I, Ariana Carter, take you, Damian Kingsley, to be my lawfully wedded husband."

Damian slid the ring onto her finger. A band of cold platinum—a symbol of a marriage built on necessity, not love.

When it was her turn, her hands didn't tremble. She would not show weakness.

"With the power vested in me," the officiant said, "I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Ariana exhaled.

But then—

"Mr. Kingsley, you may now kiss the bride."

Her breath hitched.

Damian's hand gently cupped her jaw. He leaned in.

And then—

His lips....

It was brief. Chaste. But damn if it didn't make her stomach flip.

When he pulled away, there was no smugness. No arrogance.

Just a storm in his eyes she couldn't decipher.

---

Secrets Behind Closed Doors

That night, the penthouse was eerily silent.

Ariana had changed out of her gown, now sitting on the edge of the bed in the massive bedroom.

Damian poured himself a glass of whiskey, his movements deliberate.

"You're quiet," he remarked.

Ariana met his gaze. "What do you want me to say? 'Wow, what a beautiful love story?'"

A ghost of a smirk. "Sarcasm suits you."

She crossed her arms. "You never told me why you rushed this marriage."

Damian's smirk faded.

And then, for the first time, she saw hesitation in his eyes.

He set down his glass.

"There's something you should know."

Ariana frowned. "What?"

Damian exhaled slowly. Then, he unbuttoned his dress shirt.

Ariana's breath caught.

His chest was sculpted, strong—but there was something else.

A scar.

Long, jagged, running down his left side.

She looked up at him, confused.

"I have a medical condition," Damian admitted.

Her stomach twisted. "What are you talking about?"

He sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair.

"My heart." His voice was quieter now. "I was diagnosed a year ago. The condition is genetic. It's… worsening."

Ariana's pulse pounded. "Worsening? What does that mean?"

Damian met her gaze. "It means I don't have time for games, Ariana."

She swallowed hard.

The ruthless, untouchable Damian Kingsley—wasn't invincible...

The realization shook her.

For the first time, she saw something human in him.

Vulnerability.

And that scared her more than anything.

---

To Be Continued…