The Promise

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

“You were with my father?”

“Yes.”

“Three days before he died?”

Damien nodded.

My father had been dead for four years.

Four years of grief, and somehow Damien Blackwood had been part of his final days.

“You knew him?”

“Very well.”

“Then why have I never heard your name?”

“That’s complicated.”

I laughed bitterly.

“Everything about you is complicated.”

“Elena—”

“No. You brought up my father. Explain.”

Damien walked toward the windows.

“Years ago, when I left the Blackwood family, my father made sure every door closed behind me.”

I knew that story.

Damien had walked away from Blackwood Holdings and built his own company.

At least, that was the public version.

“Your father helped me,” he continued.

“How?”

“He introduced me to people willing to listen when nobody wanted to take a meeting with Richard Blackwood’s disobedient son.”

That sounded like Dad.

“So you were friends?”

Damien looked at me.

“He gave me a chance when my own family wanted me to fail.”

His voice had softened.

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Three days before he died, your father asked to meet me.”

“Why?”

“He was worried.”

“About what?”

Damien hesitated.

“No secrets, remember?”

“You haven’t signed the agreement.”

“Then I won’t.”

Silence.

Finally, he spoke.

“He believed people were becoming too interested in Hart Industries.”

“Who?”

“He never gave me names.”

“What did he tell you?”

“That if anything happened to him, I should make sure nobody used you to get what belonged to your family.”

A chill ran through me.

“Used me how?”

“He didn’t explain.”

My thoughts immediately went to Adrian.

Our relationship had started after Dad died.

The merger came even later.

“You think he meant the Blackwoods.”

“I think your father was afraid of something.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I have.”

I looked at the marriage agreement.

“So my father asked you to protect me four years ago, and your solution was to marry me?”

“No.”

“Then why prepare this three days ago?”

Damien’s gaze sharpened.

“Because three days ago, I learned your marriage to Adrian would give the Blackwoods more influence over Hart Industries than you were told.”

My stomach dropped.

“What?”

“Ask your mother.”

“Tell me.”

“I don’t have every detail yet.”

Anger rushed through me.

“You keep giving me half an answer and expecting me to trust you.”

“I’m trying not to accuse anyone before I have proof.”

“And meanwhile I’m supposed to marry you?”

“No.”

He stepped closer.

“You’re supposed to choose.”

My phone rang.

MOM.

I answered.

“Elena, where are you?”

“Safe.”

“You need to come home.”

“Why?”

“Adrian is here. We need to discuss what happened.”

“There’s nothing to discuss.”

“Please stop behaving like this.”

My fingers tightened around the phone.

“Like what?”

“You are putting Hart Industries at risk because of a personal problem.”

I almost laughed.

“My fiancé sleeping with Sabrina is a personal problem?”

Silence.

Then Mom sighed.

“You can deal with Adrian later. Tomorrow morning, there are documents you need to sign before the board meeting.”

I looked at Damien.

“What documents?”

“Routine authorizations.”

Something about those words made my skin prickle.

“What do they authorize?”

“Come home and we’ll explain everything.”

We.

“Is Adrian there?”

A pause.

“Yes.”

I ended the call.

Damien said nothing.

“My mother wants me to sign documents.”

“What kind?”

“She called them routine authorizations.”

“Read every page before you sign.”

I frowned.

“You’re not going to tell me not to sign them?”

“It’s your signature.”

That stopped me.

No order.

No threat.

Just a choice.

Something Adrian had apparently forgotten I was allowed to have.

I looked at the agreement again.

“If I say yes, what happens?”

“To me?”

“To the marriage.”

“Tomorrow, we get married.”

My head jerked up.

“Tomorrow?”

“The longer we wait, the more time our families have to interfere.”

“You’ve really thought this through.”

“Yes.”

“Which is still terrifying.”

A faint smile touched his mouth.

I picked up a pen.

Damien’s smile vanished.

“I’m not signing yet.”

“Pity.”

“I’m adding conditions.”

I crossed out one sentence and changed another.

“Separate bedrooms.”

“Agreed.”

“My finances remain mine.”

“Agreed.”

“You stay out of my career.”

“Yes.”

“You never tell me what I can wear, where I can go, or who I can see.”

His eyebrow lifted.

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“And Adrian never learns this marriage is an arrangement.”

This time, Damien smiled.

“That condition I particularly like.”

“I’m not finished.”

I wrote beneath the final clause:

Neither party will make decisions on behalf of the other without consent.

Then I added:

No secrets concerning the other party.

Damien read the second sentence.

His expression changed.

“That could become difficult.”

“Then there’s no wedding.”

His eyes lifted to mine.

For several seconds, neither of us moved.

Then Damien took the pen.

He signed.

No argument.

My heartbeat quickened.

“Your turn.”

I stared at the empty line.

Yesterday, I knew exactly who I was going to marry.

Today, everything had changed.

But I knew one thing.

I would never go back to Adrian.

I signed.

Damien stared at my name.

His phone rang.

“Cole.”

He listened.

His expression hardened.

“When?”

Another pause.

“I understand.”

He ended the call.

“What happened?”

“Adrian called an emergency Blackwood family meeting.”

“So?”

“He told everyone he’s bringing you.”

My stomach turned.

“But I’m not going.”

“I know.”

Damien closed our agreement.

“Adrian doesn’t.”

He looked at my signature.

“And he certainly doesn’t know that tomorrow…”

His eyes met mine.

“…you’re marrying me.”