บททั้งหมดของ Bound By Blood And Vows.: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

My father and I step across the threshold, the doors closing behind us with a low, echoing thud that sounds far too final. All around us, rows of seated guests turn to look. The weight of their stares presses in from every angle, but I don’t register a single face. Not really. Their presence is background noise, a blur of expensive silk and forced smiles. Because my eyes, my entire world, are fixed on the man waiting at the altar. Nico. My soon-to-be husband.He stands like a statue carved from shadow and steel, dressed in a sharp black suit that clings to his form like it was made for him alone. He is flawless, from the crisp lines of his jacket to the polished shoes planted shoulder-width apart. His dark hair is slicked back with ruthless precision, not a single strand daring to fall out of place, just like him. Controlled. Composed. Cold. But then… for a heartbeat, something cracks. His gaze meets mine, and I swear, I swear, his eyes widen, just a fraction. A flicker of something,

I manage to wipe away the smudged remnants of my makeup, my reflection in the bathroom mirror slowly transforming from ruined bride to something more acceptable. More presentable. More his. Thankfully, Hayden had somehow retrieved my clutch from my mother. It must’ve been passed through a quiet chain of hands because I certainly hadn’t seen her, only her expectations sewn into the seams of my dress. Inside the clutch, I find a few essential items: concealer, mascara, a compact. Not nearly enough to erase what just happened, but enough to cover it. I fix my hair, finger-combing it into something elegant again. My updo will never look the same, but it doesn’t have to. It just needs to be convincing. I smooth the silk of my dress, straighten my spine, and press my lips together until they stop trembling. The girl in the mirror looks like a woman now. A perfect wife. A flawless accessory.I step out of the bathroom and find Hayden standing near the door, arms folded, gaze steady. He’s bee

I'm sound asleep when I feel the mattress dip beside me. The scent hits me before the sound, smoke, alcohol, power, all wrapped up in the man I married a few hours ago. The bedside lamp flicks on with a harsh click. I blink against the sudden brightness, my heart lurching when I see Nico. His suit jacket is gone, his shirt half unbuttoned and wrinkled, his tie hanging loose around his neck. His hair is tousled, lips drawn in a hard, unreadable line."What are you doing?" My voice cracks as I jolt upright, instinctively clawing at the silk sheets to cover myself. He doesn’t answer right away, just watches me with those unreadable, stormy eyes. Then, in one swift motion, he grabs the sheets before I can secure them and yanks them away, exposing my corseted form beneath the thin slip I hadn’t bothered changing out of."I want my wife," he says flatly, like he's stating a business transaction. "It’s our wedding night."He tosses his tie to the floor and begins unfastening his shirt. The w

NicoThe girl, Ava, is young. So fucking young. Not in age, not exactly. She's legal, she's mine by law and blood and vow. But there’s a softness to her, naïve, wide-eyed, untarnished by the world I clawed my way through. She still looks at me like I could be a good man. And that? That’s the part that fucking kills me. Yes, I’m only seven years older, but I might as well be a lifetime ahead of her. At eighteen, I’d already had blood on my hands and betrayal etched into my bones. I had learned that kindness was a currency too easily spent, and weakness? Weakness got you buried. She hasn’t learned that yet. She looks at this house like it’s a fresh start, not a gilded cage. She smiles at me like I’m the prize, not the punishment. She doesn’t flinch when I come near her. Not yet. Ava acts like she has no idea who she’s really married to. What I really do. What kind of life she’s just stepped into with that pretty white dress and soft promises at the altar. She doesn’t know that the weddi

I sip my champagne, letting its dry sparkle numb the sharp edge in my chest. The room hums with low laughter and casual wealth. The kind of laughter that comes easy when you’ve never had to beg for love, never had to chase someone who’s already yours in name only. I engage when spoken to, offer polite nods, even a few charming smiles when necessary. But most of me stays curled behind a wall of practiced poise. Then, he sits down. The seat beside mine, the one that’s stayed empty like a silent accusation all night, is suddenly filled by a stranger with a disarmingly warm smile and eyes that look like they actually see me. He’s not old, maybe mid-thirties. Well-groomed. Sharp tailored suit in a deep emerald green that stands out amid the sea of black and navy. A hint of stubble. A mouth that looks like it’s used to smiling. A face I vaguely recognize from business magazines. Tech or finance, maybe. One of the new-money billionaires the old ones pretend to scoff at.“Evening,” he says wi