The Vow that shattered glass

The ballroom shimmered with candlelight and crystal, the air thick with champagne bubbles and barely restrained ambition.

Conrad Vale stood at the center like a general at the gala, flanked by billionaires, politicians, and old-money dynasties. His daughter, Elena Vale, stood beside him in a white-silver gown worth more than most people's houses, her expression was composed, her posture immaculate.

Her smile, however, was a lie.

She watched as Richard Harrow — her soon-to-be fiance, if all went there father's plan, approached with a velvet box in hand and a smirk that made her stomach turn. Cameras flashed. The orchestra softened. The crowd hushed. It was the perfect moment.

And she was about to ruin it.

Just as Richard knelt and cracked open the box, Elena took a step back.

“I'm sorry,” she said, voice clear, words cutting. “I can't marry you.”

Gasps rippled like thunder through the room. Richard froze, confused. Conrad's eyes narrowed. But Elena wasn't finished.

“Because I'm already married.” She said.

Dead silence.

Then, from the back of the room, a voice cut through the tension. “She's telling the truth.”

Every head turned as Jack Roman stepped forward in a rumpled black suit, no tie, and a leather jacket slung over one shoulder. Tattoos curled up his forearms, and his dark hair was still damp from the rain. He didn't look like a billionaire. He didn't look like anything this room of porcelain people would accept.

But he looked at Elena like she was the only real thing in the world.

Richard rose slowly, fury flickering behind his careful smile. “Is this some kind of joke?”

Elena met his gaze. “No. This is the first honest decision I've made in years.”

Conrad's voice, low and lethal, finally snapped through the tension. “Elena. A word.”

***

EIGHT HOURS EARLIER.

Elena sat in a corner booth of a grimy downtown diner, veil of anonymity wrapped tight around her. Desigiser sunglasses, a wool trench coat, and a cappuccino she hadn't touched. The weight of her family legacy sat heavy on her chest.

Across from her, Jack Roman leaned back with his arms folded, watching her like a puzzle he was trying to crack with nothing but instinct.

“You really want to marry stranger to get out of an engagement?” He asked, voice low and amused.

She glanced up. “You're not a stranger.”

“I'm a hacker-turned-security-consultant with a questionable past and no interest in your corporate world.”

“Exactly,” she said coolly. “You have nothing to gin by marrying me. Which makes you the safest man I know.”

He chuckled, tapping a spoon against the table. “And what makes you think I'd agree to this lunacy?”

“I know your company has been blacklisted. I know Harrow's been trying to bury you. I know you need money and visibility. I can give you both. For six months. No strings.”

Jack studied her. Beneath the gloss and steel of Elena Vale was something raw. Desperate. Alive.

He should've walked away.

But instead, he leaned forward. “You're serious.”

“Deadly.”

He scratched his jaw, then offered his hand. “Then let's give the world a wedding they won't forget.”

———

The courthouse was fast. A legal document signed, a judge too bored to ask questions. Elena wore sunglasses the whole time. He didn't bother with a tie. There were no rings, and no vows. Just signatures and silence.

Afterward, they stood outside in the rain, two strangers legally bound together.

“You know this won't protect you forever.” He said.

She swallowed the lump at the back of her throat. “I don't need forever. I need freedom.”

Jack offered her his umbrella. She refused it. Of course.

——

Now, back in the ballroom, that umbrella was long gone— and so was any illusion that this was just a game.

“Elena.” Her father's voice cracked like a whip as he pulled her into a side room, away from the party, and away from the cameras. “Have you lost your mind?”

“No,” she said. “I finally found it.”

“Do you know what you've done? Do you know what you've cost this family? That merger—”

“Was a lie. Just like Richard. Just like this whole show.”

He slammed his palm against the wall. “I built everything for you. And you throw it away? For what? A man with a criminal record and no pedigree?”

“For myself,” she said quietly. “For once.”

Conrad's eyes narrowed. “This isn't over.”

“It is for me.” She mumbled.

—

Jack waited outside the ballroom, one hand in his pocket, the other scrolling aimlessly through his phone. He wasn't a man used to being looked at like dirt, but in this world, he was radioactive.

Elena returned minutes later, face pale, jaw set.

“Well?” He asked.

“He threatened to disown me.”

“And?”

“I told him that might be the first decent thing he's ever done.”

Jack let out a low whistle. “You're really burning the whole kingdom down, huh?”

She looked at him. Not like a business deal. Not like a mistake. But like a chance she wasn't sure she deserved.

“Are you going to regret this?” She asked him.

He nodded slightly. “Probably,” he said. “But not tonight.”

That night, Elena brought him home to her penthouse. It was cold, immaculate, and impersonal — like walking into a museum that forgot what joy felt like.

He dropped his jacket on the back of a leather armchair. She flinched.

“Do you always mark your territory like that?” She asked.

He smirked. “Only when I know the walls are hiding secrets.”

She turned, arms crossed. “You don't get to poke around. This isn't real.”

“It is now,” he said softly.

They stood in silence, a chasm of unspoken things between them.

Then she handed him a spare key. “We set boundaries tomorrow. Tonight… just don't ask questions.”

“Deal,” he said, taking it. “But I'm using the good coffee.”

“You mean my coffee.”

Jack grinned. “Ours, now. Wife.”

Her glare could've melted a concrete.

But for the first time in years, Elena felt something she hadn't felt in a long time.

Not control. Not fear.

Freedom.