All Chapters of For The Fifth Vow: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

New Orleans woke up humid and forgiving. Steam rose from the streets like the city had decided to baptize itself before brunch. Rory unlocked St. James Creole before sunrise, flicked on the kitchen lights, and stared at the empty dining room like it owed him rent.He rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and got to work. Stock pot on. Trinity chopped—onion, bell pepper, celery, cut so fast the cutting board sounded like a drumline. He moved with the force of a man who’d been moving forever. The burden didn’t show on his face; it lived in his hands.“Morning, chef,” called a line cook, hanging his apron.“Morning,” Rory said. “Fire up the flat-top. And don’t burn my bacon like you hate me.”The cook grinned. “I only hate you before coffee.”Rory smirked and returned to the gumbo, tasting, adjusting. It was muscle memory and marriage vow, the only promise he’d never consider breaking. The pot spoke back—pepper, patience, time. He added a little more file powder, watched it dissolve li

Morning arrived late at the Amour DeLuxe Resort, like even the sun had stayed up too long at the rooftop party. The light crept into the suites slow and guilty, sliding across velvet curtains, knocking politely on doors that wished for another hour of silence.Ava St. James woke up like a woman born from confetti. Her silk bonnet was somewhere under the bed, her gold heels were on the desk like they’d climbed there on purpose, and there was a feather boa in the bathroom sink she absolutely did not remember owning.She sat up slowly, joints clicking a polite “good morning,” and groaned. “Lord, I’m too old for this… and just young enough for it to be worth it.”Her phone buzzed on the nightstand: 27 missed texts. 14 missed calls. 8 voicemails.Ava blinked. “Jesus be a boundary.”She ignored them. She needed coffee first. And maybe a chiropractor.In the connecting suite, the St. James women were in various stages of survival. Ruth sat at the table with sunglasses on, staring at a croiss

Ava had expected an interrogation, maybe even a polite ambush disguised as tea. What she didn’t expect was for Marvella du Prée to sit back in her chair, fold her hands, and study her with the quiet accuracy of a woman who’d seen the world, buried love, and refused to repeat mistakes.Marcus stood slightly behind his mother, unsure whether to intervene or vanish. He finally chose the most Marcus thing possible: he stayed right where he was, steady but alert, the bridge between two worlds that rarely met gently.Ava sat with her shoulders straight and her chin high. She refused to let her nerves make her small.Marvella spoke first.“I understand you’ve been married four times.”“Yes,” Ava replied. “And I’ve learned from all four.”“What did you learn?”Ava smiled faintly. “That I don’t make the same mistake twice. I make new ones. But better ones.”Marcus stifled a laugh, and Marvella glared at him until he swallowed it. Ava didn’t look away. She kept her eyes on the woman who had rai

Marcus woke before dawn, long before the rest of the estate stirred. The sun had barely touched the horizon, but he was already dressed, jacket over his arm, mind restless. Today was the day. He had delayed it long enough.Natasha.He knew the conversation could no longer wait. His past had been knocking for years, but now it had a fist. And if he didn’t answer, it would start banging on doors that didn’t belong to it — doors that led to Ava, to Maya, to his future.A knock sounded on his office doorway.Maya stood there in her robe, hair tied in a loose bun. She was his daughter through and through — sharp eyes, sharper intuition.“You’re up early,” she said.“So are you,” he replied.She came in and sat on the edge of his desk. “I heard you pacing at three. And four. And five. I figured either you were preparing for a hostile takeover… or something personal.”Marcus let out a humorless laugh. “Definitely not business.”Maya folded her arms. “Is it about Ava?”“Yes and no,” he answer

For a moment, nobody breathed.Ava stood frozen in her doorway, staring at the trio on her porch. Marcus stood in front — calm, composed, handsome in a way that made trouble look sensible. Maya looked curious and warm, hands clasped behind her back like she came bearing good intentions. Marvella stood tall, pearls catching the porch light, her expression somewhere between inspection and prayer.Behind Ava, her entire family crowded the hallway like spectators at a heavyweight boxing match.Genevieve whispered loudly, “Lord, this feels like a BET special.”Asher elbowed her. “Girl, hush and let the drama speak.”Ava found her voice. “Marcus… Maya… Ms. Marvella… this is a surprise.”Marcus nodded gently. “I know. But I wanted to do this right.”“Oh Lord,” Theo muttered. “He’s using his CEO voice. This serious.”Marcus continued, “I thought it was time for our families to meet. Properly.”A hush fell.A meet-the-family moment this early?The St. James household reacted like someone had t