Broken Vows, New Promises

Aurora’s POV

Love was supposed to be built on trust. On faith. On the belief that no matter what, the person you gave your heart to would never betray you.

I used to believe that.

The small velvet box felt warm in my palm, a fragile promise of the future I had envisioned with Adrian Sinclair. Tonight, I would surprise him—not just with the key to his apartment, but with the decision I had finally made. I was ready. After years of waiting, of holding onto my beliefs, I had decided that maybe… maybe I could give in.

Maybe love didn’t need to wait until marriage.

With a nervous smile, I pushed open the door to Adrian’s apartment.

The moment I stepped inside, something felt… wrong.

The living room was dimly lit, but my senses sharpened as I took in the details—the faint scent of vanilla perfume in the air, the discarded pair of heels by the couch. A sick feeling coiled in my stomach.

Then I heard it.

A muffled moan. A breathy giggle.

From the bedroom.

I froze, my entire body going numb. No. It couldn’t be.

Step by step, I walked forward, my fingers tightening around the box until the edges dug into my skin.

With a trembling hand, I pushed open the door.

My heart stopped.

Adrian was there. Half-naked. Tangled in silk sheets with a woman who wasn’t me.

The sound of my breath catching in my throat made them turn. The woman gasped, clutching the sheets to her chest, but Adrian didn’t move fast enough. His gaze locked with mine, shock flickering in his green eyes before irritation replaced it.

“Aurora…” His voice held no remorse. Only annoyance.

For a long, agonizing second, I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think.

Then the box slipped from my fingers, hitting the floor with a soft thud. The key I had planned to give him tumbled out, rolling until it stopped near the foot of the bed—an ironic symbol of the home I would never have with him.

“How long?” My voice was barely above a whisper, yet the weight of it pressed down on the room like a storm.

Adrian sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Aurora, don’t do this—”

“How. Long.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. Then, in a voice far too casual, he muttered, “A couple of years.”

The air left my lungs. My world shattered.

I had spent years believing in him. Trusting him. Holding on to my values while he had spent years lying to me.

I swallowed back the sob rising in my throat. My body felt cold, like I was standing in the middle of a snowstorm with no shelter.

And the worst part? He wasn’t even sorry.

Adrian sighed again, exasperated. “Does it really matter now?”

Something inside me snapped.

A sharp, bitter laugh bubbled out of me. “Does it matter?” My voice trembled, not from sadness, but from the pure, burning rage clawing its way up my chest. “You disgust me.”

I turned on my heel, walking away before I could break in front of him.

“Aurora, wait—”

I didn’t.

I walked out of the apartment, out of his life, and out into the cold, empty night—leaving behind the last pieces of the girl who once believed in love.

Damien’s POV

The bar was loud. Crowded. Reeking of desperation and bad choices.

Damien Pierce didn’t belong in places like this. He preferred his whiskey in the solitude of his penthouse or a high-end lounge where men like him—men with power—gathered. But tonight, something had pulled him here.

Or rather, someone.

His gaze landed on the woman slumped over the bar, her golden-brown hair cascading over her shoulders. Even in dim lighting, she was striking—delicate yet resilient. But what caught his attention wasn’t her beauty.

It was the emptiness in her eyes.

She stared at her glass like it held all the answers to her problems. Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for it again.

Too much. Too fast.

Damien’s jaw tightened.

He wasn’t the kind of man who got involved in strangers’ problems. He didn’t play the hero. But something about her—something raw and broken—made him pause.

Then, the moment he had been waiting for came.

A man in a designer suit slid into the seat beside her, his presence immediately unwelcome. Damien knew his type—arrogant, entitled, a predator in expensive cologne. The man leaned in, his hand brushing her hair, his mouth moving too close to her ear.

Damien saw it before it even happened.

The moment she swayed. The way she blinked, confused. Drugged.

His muscles coiled, his body already moving before his mind could process why he even cared.

“She’s with me.”

The words left his mouth, laced with the kind of authority that made men pause.

The bastard barely had time to react before Damien’s fist collided with his jaw. The impact sent him crashing into the bar counter, glass shattering as he groaned in pain.

Damien didn’t even look at him. He was already catching her as she nearly collapsed, her body limp in his arms.

“Who…?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

Damien’s grip tightened, his fingers flexing around her waist.

“You shouldn’t have run,” he murmured.

Even though he knew she wouldn’t remember him saying it.

Then, before anyone else could lay their hands on her, he lifted her into his arms and walked away.

And just like that, the night that had begun in betrayal ended in the hands of a man far more dangerous than she could ever imagine.