Oaths And Omissions Novels & Stories

Oscar was determined and left no stone unturned. After several investigations, he uncovered Lionel's embezzlement and involvement in some illegal trades. Coupled with his attempted assault against me, it was enough to ensure he faced severe legal consequences. Some people were still criticizing me online, but I didn't care. Three years later, I attended a high school reunion. I rarely participated in these events, but this time, a few old classmates said they wanted to apologize to me. "Back then, we were too quick to judge. We thought it was best to settle things peacefully since we were all classmates. We didn't realize Rhiannon was truly that awful!"

The specific kind of test that wore the shape of conversation but required you to either demonstrate knowledge or expose its absence in front of an audience that would remember either result. I set my fork down. “Eastern Reach blood-oaths require a witnessed third party at the sealing,” I said. “Northern standard only requires the two parties involved. In the Eastern Reach, an oath sealed without a witness has no legal standing. It can be challenged and voided at any point by either party.” I paused. “Which is why Eastern Reach alliances take longer to formalize but hold longer once they’re made. The witness requirement creates accountability on both sides.” The table was quiet.

On the day of my coming-of-age ceremony, the two men who cherish me above all else are absent. One is Vittorio Luciano, the only son of the Luciano family from the east, while the other is Carlos Gambino, the heir to the Gambino family from the south. This is a matter that could easily be settled with a few words, yet they try to think up all sorts of excuses to brush me off. "Anna, a gunfight has broken out at the port to the north, so I really can't step away." "I have to hold a family meeting with the elders. I can't skip it." However, the two men have barely hung up on me when I see them appear beside my adopted younger sister, Liliana Siciliano, at her coming-of-age ceremony. The

Nico said, his voice sharp as a scalpel. Jessa leaned back, ignored him. She looked pointedly at Momma. "Momma? The oath?" Momma smiled widely. "Simply the promise to never share outside this group what is said. We are not bad people, but we do what could be seen as bad things by the authorities. If you want to know more, you take the oath." Jessa's shoulders twitched the slightest degree. "By taking the oath, am I obligated to participate in these things?" Momma's dark brown eyes warmed. "No, figlia. But if you speak of such things, it will end badly for you."

Let me guess, since I'm not entirely new to this rodeo: if we don't fulfill this oath? We will die, my demon sent. Craptastic. ***

They said after all that we'd been through, we were surely bound to make it to the end, and I believed so, too. By the time the wedding ceremony was over, we were utterly exhausted, despite Antoine having arranged everything perfectly and mobilized considerable resources. We decided to postpone our scheduled honeymoon since the public uproar had yet to settle, and attention was still intense. Chandler's company, weakened by his neglect and extravagance, was on the verge of collapse. He'd sold off most of his assets in his desperate search to find me. As online criticism toward him intensified, Heather filed a police report with evidence of her imprisonment and abuse.

I feel his warm lips crash into mine and I completely melt into his embrace. One hand travels up my back, the other wiping my tears from my cheeks, as his arms grow tighter around me. “Monsters will never make my Queen quiver in fear, they will never make her cower, and they will never lay another fucking finger on her.” His words sound like an oath. “I vow that sacred oath, my Queen. As long as I am around that will never be something you have to worry about.” He says, the love just pouring from his lips.

​ “I’⁠‌m‍ just a deli⁠⁠very m‍⁠an. S‍omeone dropp​ed it at the off‌ice. Paid me to br‍i⁠ng it here. That’s all.” Cal​eb s​too​d to​ the side,⁠ arms folde‌d. His e⁠xpress‍ion‍ was ti​ght, watch‍ing carefully. “‍You​ expe⁠c⁠t u‌s to be‌l​ieve t​hat?” h‍e asked. The man s‍hoo​k‍ his​ head quickly​. “I​t’s t​he tr‍u​th! I‍ swe​ar i‌t!⁠​”

insistent? I took a slow sip of my whiskey, the burn soothing the tension gnawing at my gut. Every interaction with her felt like a delicate balance between pushing her away and pulling her closer. The frustration was almost unbearable. I had her, but she wasn’t mine—not in the way I needed her to be. Yet, I could feel it—the way she was slowly unraveling. The walls she built so fiercely around herself were beginning to show cracks. I could see it in her eyes every time she looked at me. She hated me, but the heat between us, the undeniable pull that bound us together, was growing stronger with every passing day.

“Yes, I do.” His voice was firm. Clear. Without the slightest tremor. The priest nodded, then turned. “Miss Livia… do you take Mr. Adrian as your husband, to live together in the sacred bond of marriage—to love him, to protect him, to honor him, in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health, and to remain faithful to him until death do you part?” The voice echoed softly. Sacred. Yet it felt unfamiliar. Because for Livia— every word sounded like a lie forced into becoming the truth.