Shattered Vows

CHAPTER 1— THE SECRET BRIDE

Althea Rivera’s POV

I used to believe that love could survive anythingndistance, lies, even silence. But I’ve learned that sometimes, silence isn’t peace. It’s the sound of a heart breaking quietly in a room no one knows exists.

My name is Althea Rivera Navarro.

At least, it’s supposed to be.

Only a handful of people know that name exists Damian’s family, our lawyer, and me. To the rest of the world, I am simply Althea Rivera, the marketing head of Navarro Group, brilliant at presentations and loyal to my boss, the CEO everyone adores Damian Navarro, my husband.

Our marriage is not a secret because it’s forbidden. It’s a secret because he wanted it that way.

I wake up to the familiar echo of my alarm cutting through the stillness of our bedroom. The soft hum of the city beyond our penthouse window barely reaches me. For a moment, I stare at the ceiling, tracing the faint reflection of dawn’s light on the white paint. The space around me feels too big, too quiet.

His side of the bed is cold.

Of course it is.

Damian left before sunrise, as he always does. He doesn’t like mornings with me. Not because he doesn’t care, but because he hates goodbyes at least, that’s what he told me once.

“I’ll be back before midnight,” he had murmured last night, brushing a kiss on my forehead as if I were a fragile thing. “You know how the board can be.”

I didn’t ask him to stay. I never do. That’s one of our silent agreements. He gives me his time in stolen hours, and I pretend it’s enough.

I sit up slowly, the silk sheets sliding off my bare skin. The faint scent of his cologne lingers dark cedar and smoke and it hurts how comforting it still feels.

On my nightstand sits my wedding ring, simple and gold. I don’t wear it to work. I can’t.

The world doesn’t know I’m Mrs. Navarro.

By the time I arrive at Navarro Group Headquarters, I’ve already tucked away the version of myself that longs for warmth. I wear my armor now: a crisp white blouse, fitted black slacks, a pair of heels sharp enough to draw blood, and a calm smile that convinces everyone I’m unshakable.

“Good morning, Ms. Rivera,” the receptionist greets.

“Morning,” I reply, matching her politeness with a practiced smile.

As I step into the elevator, the mirrored walls reflect a woman who looks strong. Confident. Professional.

Not the woman who hides her wedding ring in a drawer and pretends she’s just another employee.

The doors slide open on the top floor Damian’s floor. My stomach tightens, as it always does.

His office is glass walled, elegant, and distant, much like the man himself. And sitting just outside that office, perfectly poised with a soft smirk, is Celine Vargas.

Damian’s secretary.

And his public girlfriend.

She’s everything the tabloids adore graceful, stylish, and sweet to everyone except me.

“Good morning, Althea,” she says, crossing her legs as if to punctuate her superiority. “The CEO asked to see you in the boardroom in ten minutes. Don’t be late; you know how he hates waiting.”

Her lips curve in a smile that’s almost kind. Almost.

“I’m aware,” I reply smoothly. “Thank you, Celine.”

Her eyes flick to my neck, perhaps checking for marks, as she’s done a hundred times before. I don’t flinch. I learned long ago that Celine feeds on reaction.

When I push through the boardroom doors, Damian is already there leaning against the long table, phone in hand, sharp in his charcoal suit. He looks up, his expression unreadable, eyes like storm clouds locked behind glass.

For a moment, our eyes meet, and my chest tightens.

The world might not know what we are, but I do.

He’s still my husband. My heart doesn’t forget, even if it’s foolish.

“Morning, sir,” I say, keeping my tone strictly professional.

He sets his phone down and nods slightly. “Morning, Ms. Rivera.”

The words slice cleanly through the air. Ms. Rivera. Not Althea. Not love. Not even a fleeting glance of warmth.

He has to be careful, I remind myself. There are cameras, eyes, reputations at stake. He’s protecting both of us.

At least, that’s what he told me.

The meeting drags on for hours projections, graphs, profit reports. My voice fills the room as I present the company’s next marketing strategy, but my heart is somewhere else. I feel his gaze occasionally land on me brief, assessing, then gone.

By the time I finish, the board members applaud politely. Damian nods once. “Well done, Ms. Rivera. Send me the final report by tonight.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the others file out, I linger, waiting for a chance to speak to him privately. When the last person leaves, the room falls silent again, heavy with unspoken words.

“Damian—” I start softly.

He looks up, eyes hardening instantly. “Not here.”

I swallow, nodding. “I just… wanted to remind you about dinner tonight. You promised.”

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll try. No guarantees.”

“Damian, it’s our anniversary.”

That makes him pause. His jaw clenches, a flicker of guilt in his eyes before he looks away.

“I haven’t forgotten, Althea,” he says quietly now, his tone shifting. “But you know how things are. The investors—”

“The investors always need you,” I whisper.

He steps closer then, close enough for me to feel the heat radiating from him, close enough that if anyone walked in, they’d see more than they should.

“Don’t make this harder than it already is,” he murmurs. “You knew what this was when you agreed to it.”

The words sting, though they’re not new. “I knew I loved you,” I say. “I didn’t know loving you would mean hiding.”

His hand brushes mine barely there, a touch so secret even the walls wouldn’t notice. “Just a little longer,” he whispers. “Once everything settles, we’ll tell the world. I promise.”

Promises. Damian is built from them. And I, the fool, have built my world around believing them.

That night, he doesn’t come home.

By the time the city lights flicker through the window and the clock strikes midnight, I know better than to wait. I eat dinner alone, scrolling through the company’s social media feed, and there it is another photo of him and Celine at a charity gala. She’s glowing. He’s smiling. His hand rests on her waist.

And my heart breaks quietly, like it’s learned to.

I close the app, turn off the television, and stare at my wedding ring for a long time. I slip it on, just for a moment, letting it sit against my skin where it belongs.

If I close my eyes, I can still remember the day he gave it to me.

It was raining that night months ago, in a small chapel far away from the city. Only a priest and Damian’s younger sister were there. The candles flickered as we said our vows in whispers, promises shared in shadows.

“I’ll make it right one day,” he’d told me, sliding the ring onto my finger. “When the time comes, the world will know you’re mine.”

I believed him. I still do, even when I shouldn’t.

The next morning, I walk into the office to find everyone buzzing.

“Did you hear?” Ava, my best friend from the marketing team, rushes to my side. “There’s a corporate retreat next week! Damian’s orders. A full week at the Navarro Resort owned by his brother. I didn’t even know he had one!”

I blink. “His brother?”

Ava nods, excitement written all over her face. “Apparently they’re twins. But no one’s seen the other one in years. Rumor has it he’s living off somewhere managing the resort chain. Damian doesn’t talk about him.”

My heart skips a beat. Twins?

I’d been married to Damian for almost two years. He’d mentioned his family his late parents, his sister, his grandmother. But never a brother. Never a twin.

I laugh softly to hide my confusion. “Must be a rumor.”

“Maybe,” Ava shrugs. “But if it’s true, it explains a lot. Ever notice how Damian vanishes for days sometimes? Maybe they switch places!” She laughs at her own joke.

I smile faintly, but something twists uneasily inside me.

The retreat announcement spreads through the office like wildfire. People chatter about pools, spa treatments, and team-building exercises. I bury myself in work, but the thought of spending a week in a resort connected to a secret part of Damian’s life unsettles me.

That night, when he finally comes home past midnight again I confront him quietly.

“You have a brother?”

He stops in the middle of removing his tie. “Who told you?”

“People are talking about the retreat. They said it’s owned by your brother.”

His expression hardens. “Half-brother,” he says sharply. “We don’t talk. It’s better that way.”

“Why?”

He looks away. “Because he ruined everything once. And I don’t want you involved with him.”

I study him, his rigid posture, the flicker of anger in his voice. “Then why hold the retreat at his resort?”

“Because business comes first.” His tone softens slightly. “Don’t worry, Althea. You won’t even have to meet him.”

I want to believe him. I always want to believe him.