Todos os capítulos de VOWS WRITTEN IN VENGEANCE : Capítulo 1 - Capítulo 10

Aria Whitmore learned the sound of desperation that night, she shook with desperation even.It was the tremor in her father's voice thin, broken, nothing like the man who once ruled boardrooms and charity galas with effortless authority, it was scary.She stood at the top of the staircase, one hand gripping the banister, listening as strangers occupied the living room below, she couldn’t hear them properly though. But it was enough to know their presence felt wrong, invasive, like a storm that had already shattered the windows and was now picking through the wreckage."Please," Caleb Whitmore said quietly. "Just give me more time, I beg of you."Aria closed her eyes.Time was a luxury they no longer possessed."The deadline has passed," one of the men replied, his voice cold and professional. "Mr. Whitmore, your debt to Ashford Consortium stands at twelve million dollars. If the amount is not settled by the end of the week, all remaining assets will be seized."Ashford Consortium.Her

Aria slept poorly.Not because of nightmares but because the silence in Ashford Manor was too perfect. Too controlled. Like the house itself was holding its breath, waiting for her to make a mistake.Morning came without warmth.A knock sounded at exactly six a.m.“Mrs. Ashford,” a woman’s voice called through the door. “Your schedule.”Schedule.Aria sat up slowly, her chest tightening. She hadn’t agreed to a schedule.But then again, she hadn’t been given much choice about anything.Two women entered moments later efficient, expressionless. One laid out a navy dress on the bed. Elegant. Expensive. Restrictive.“Mr. Ashford selected this,” one of them said.Aria ran her fingers over the fabric. It felt cold.“Where am I going?” she asked.“A breakfast meeting,” the woman replied. “With the board.”Aria’s heart skipped.“The board?” she echoed. “Lucien didn’t tell me”“He doesn’t need to,” the woman said gently, but firmly. “Please prepare.”By the time Aria entered the dining room,

The days that followed were colder.Not in temperature the estate remained as pristine and climate controlled as ever but in atmosphere. The halls felt longer. The marble floors harsher beneath each step. Even the light filtering through the tall windows seemed pale and distant, as though reluctant to touch anything inside those walls.Lucien avoided Aria.Not out of mercy.Control.Silence had become his weapon of choice. Where once there had been sharp words and deliberate provocations, there was now nothing. A void. And somehow, that felt worse.He spoke to her through assistants.Issued instructions without looking at her.Changed schedules without warning.Erased her presence unless it suited him to acknowledge it.Meals were taken at different times. Meetings rescheduled so their paths would not cross. When proximity became unavoidable, his gaze slid past her as if she were a decorative object useful, replaceable, mute.At first, Aria felt the familiar sting of it.Then somet

The luncheon was held at a private estate overlooking the bay the kind of property built not just with money, but with legacy.The driveway curved through manicured hedges sculpted into precise forms. Marble fountains shimmered beneath the sun. Beyond the terrace, the ocean stretched endlessly blue calm, distant, deceptive.White linen.Crystal glasses.Smiling predators.Aria stepped from the car with quiet composure. The breeze lifted the hem of her pale blue chiffon dress soft, flowing, deliberately modest. Elegant. Harmless.Exactly what Lucien had chosen.He stood beside her in a charcoal suit, immaculate as always. His presence alone shifted the air; nearby conversations softened as they entered.His hand rested at the small of her back.Not warm.Not possessive.Directive.“Remember,” he murmured, eyes forward, “grace.”She didn’t respond.She didn’t need to.Her decision had already been made.Today was not about pride.It was observation.They stepped into the courtyard. Laug

The gates closed behind her.The sound was mechanical.Precise.Final.Ashford Manor did not announce punishment with raised voices or visible force. It implemented it quietly, efficiently, like a system recalibrating itself.By morning, the change was undeniable.No outings.No guests.No unscheduled calls.No conversations that lasted longer than necessary.Her access card had been reprogrammed overnight. The gardens beyond the inner courtyard were locked. The fitness wing required authorization she no longer possessed. The library doors blinked red when she approached, and the security cameras seemed to shift ever so slightly as she moved through the halls.Containment disguised as security.The manor had always been grand. Vaulted ceilings. Marble corridors. Carefully selected art that spoke of generational power.Now it felt designed.Measured.Controlled.Like a beautiful cage.Even Marcus avoided her eyes.That unsettled her more than anything else.Marcus had never been warm,