Rain smeared the world into streaks of gray as the car wound up the hillside. The wipers moved in rhythm, a relentless whisper against the windshield. Elena sat perfectly still in the back seat, hands clutched together so tightly her knuckles were white.
She didn't dare speak. The man in the driver's seat hadn't said a single word since they left the courthouse. Even now, the silence pressed down on her chest until it felt hard to breathe.
When the car finally slowed, she turned her head, and froze.
At the crest of the hill, through the blur of the rain, she saw it: a mansion built of black stone and glass, its sharp edges gleaming faintly beneath the storm. Lightning cracked overhead, painting the gates in silver light.
The Vale Estate.
It wasn't a house. It was a statement, one that screamed untouchable.
The wrought-iron gates groaned open. The car rolled forward, tires crunching over the wet cobblestone driveway. Rows of ancient oak trees lined either side, their branches bending under the weight of the rain. The lights along the path flickered as though even the electricity hesitated to disturb the silence.
By the time they reached the archway, Elena's pulse was pounding.
The driver stepped out and opened her door. "Mrs. Vale," he said, bowing slightly.
Her breath caught. The title hit like a slap.
She wasn't used to it. She wasn't sure she ever would be.
"I'm not....." she started, then stopped. What was the point? The papers were signed. The deal sealed. Her name, her identity, belonged to Adrian Vale now.
"Mr. Vale is expecting you," the driver said simply.
Elena nodded and stepped out. The rain hit her hair, cold as ice, soaking through her thin coat in seconds. She glanced up at the mansion towering above her, its windows glowing faintly from within. For a heartbeat, she thought she saw movement, a shadow crossing one of the upper floors.
Her chest tightened.
It felt like walking into a storm even the sky feared to touch.
Inside, warmth assaulted her senses, not comforting warmth, but the kind that came from expensive fireplaces and carefully calibrated thermostats. The entryway was cathedral-high, the walls paneled with dark wood, and the chandelier above was a rain of crystal light.
Elena felt small beneath it.
A woman in a black uniform appeared, bowing slightly. "Welcome to Vale Manor, Mrs. Vale. This way, please."
She followed the maid down a long hall that smelled faintly of cedar and rain. Portraits of Vales lined the walls, severe men, beautiful women, generations of power staring down at her as if she didn't belong.
By the time they stopped at the double doors at the end of the hall, Elena's heartbeat had become a steady drum.
"Mr. Vale is inside," the maid said, and then left.
Elena hesitated, her hand hovering above the door handle.
She didn't know what to expect. She'd only seen him twice before, once at the hospital, where he'd made his offer like a devil disguised in a tailored suit, and once at the courthouse, when he'd said nothing but signed his name beside hers.
Her fingers trembled as she pushed the door open.
The room was a study, dimly lit by the fireplace. Shelves of books climbed to the ceiling, their spines gleaming like the backs of caged beasts. The rain against the windows made a soft, steady percussion.
And there, near the fire, sat Adrian Vale.
He wasn't wearing his jacket. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing forearms laced with veins, a wristwatch that probably cost more than her apartment had. The flames cast his features in amber, sharp jaw, controlled expression, eyes that missed nothing.
He didn't look at her at first, merely swirled the whiskey in his glass as if measuring the weight of silence.
"Sit," he said finally, his voice low, precise.
Elena obeyed before realizing she had. The command carried authority, not volume, the kind that made the air bend.
He looked up. Their eyes met, and the rest of the world fell away.
"You came," he said, as if he hadn't been the one to summon her.
Her voice came out soft. "I didn't have a choice."
"Everyone has a choice."
"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "Not when someone you love is dying."
For a fleeting second, something flickered in his eyes, not pity, but memory. Then it was gone.
He set the glass down. "Did you read the contract again before signing?"
"Yes."
"And you understand that there are no changes. No renegotiations."
"I understand."
He stood then, walking toward her. Each step was measured, deliberate. "Then take off your ring."
Elena blinked. "What?"
"The ring on your hand. Remove it."
Her gaze fell to the small silver band she'd worn for years. It wasn't valuable, just a simple piece of metal. But it was hers.
"Why?" she asked quietly.
"Because from this moment, everything you wear, everything you own, comes from me," he said. "Including your name."
Her throat constricted. "This ring, it's from my brother."
"Then keep the memory," Adrian said coldly. "Not the symbol."
Her chest burned, but she slid the ring off and placed it on the edge of his desk. The metal made a faint sound when it hit the wood, a sound that felt too final.
Adrian reached into a drawer and pulled out a black velvet box. He opened it and slid it toward her. Inside gleamed a diamond so large it seemed to catch the firelight itself.
Elena stared. "This is...."
"Yours," he interrupted. "Wear it."
Her fingers trembled as she lifted the ring. It was beautiful and terrifying all at once, a chain disguised as jewelry. She slid it onto her finger. It felt heavy, cold.
When she looked up again, he was watching her with quiet intensity.
"Good," he murmured. "You'll be presented to the press tomorrow. You'll smile. You'll stand beside me. And you will say nothing unless I tell you to."
Her chest tightened. "I'm not a doll."
"You're my wife," he said evenly. "Act like it."
She stood abruptly, anger replacing fear. "You think money makes you untouchable? You think you can just buy someone's life and call it a marriage?"
Adrian's expression didn't change, but the temperature in the room dropped. "I didn't buy your life, Elena. I saved your brother's."
The truth hit her like a blade.
Her voice softened. "And what did it cost me?"
He met her gaze. "Everything you were before today."
The fire popped between them, throwing sparks into the air.
She wanted to hate him.
But the problem with monsters that looked like him was that hating them never came easy.
Later, when the maid led her upstairs, Elena couldn't shake the feeling that the walls were listening.
Her new room was the size of her entire apartment back home, silk sheets, crystal lamps, a balcony that overlooked the storm-lit valley below.
"You'll find everything you need," the maid said. "Dinner is served at eight. Mr. Vale prefers punctuality."
Elena nodded. The maid hesitated at the door.
"One more thing," she added softly. "Don't go near the west wing after dark."
Elena frowned. "Why?"
The maid's eyes flickered, fear flashing there before she masked it. "Just… don't."
And then she was gone.
Elena sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her reflection in the glass. The woman looking back didn't feel like her. The diamond ring glinted accusingly under the chandelier light.
This isn't real, she told herself. It's just a contract. A year, and it's over.
But even as she thought it, thunder rolled outside, deep and endless.
She couldn't sleep.
Hours passed, and the storm showed no sign of stopping. Eventually, she stepped out into the hall, drawn by the faint hum of voices somewhere below.
At the end of the corridor, a staircase curved downward, leading to a wide landing. From there, she could see the faint glow of lights coming from a half-open door at the far end.
She shouldn't. She knew that. But curiosity was louder than fear.
She crept closer.
Inside the room, Adrian stood with two men, both dressed in black suits, both with faces that screamed danger. Papers were spread across a table, and a faint scent of gun oil hung in the air.
"…the shipment was intercepted," one of the men said. "We think it's the Kairn family."
"They wouldn't dare," Adrian replied, his tone deadly calm. "Find out who leaked it."
"We already lost three men...."
"Then lose ten more," Adrian snapped, his voice slicing through the air. "No one crosses me twice."
Elena's heart pounded. She stepped back, the floor creaking beneath her foot.
Adrian's head turned instantly. Their eyes locked.
For one heartbeat, neither moved.
Then he was walking toward her, fast, silent, dangerous.
She panicked, retreating to her room, slamming the door shut, chest heaving.
The handle turned.
He stepped inside without knocking, shutting the door behind him.
"What did you hear?" His voice was low, controlled.
"N—Nothing," she stammered. "I was just.... I couldn't sleep...."
He took a step closer. "You shouldn't be wandering the house."
"I wasn't...."
"Lying doesn't suit you," he said quietly.
Her pulse raced. "Are you… are you in danger?"
He stopped close enough for her to feel the heat radiating from him. His expression softened, just a fraction.
"Danger?" He gave a short, humorless laugh. "No. I am the danger, Elena."
The way he said her name sent a shiver down her spine.
"You should sleep," he said finally, turning away. "Tomorrow will be long. The press loves blood."
She stared after him. "Why do you do this?"
He paused at the door. "Do what?"
"Hide behind power like it's armor."
He looked back, eyes unreadable. "Because armor doesn't bleed."
Then he was gone.
Elena stood there long after he left, the sound of the rain filling the silence he'd carved into her world.
She didn't know whether she'd stepped into a marriage, a contract, or a cage, but one thing was certain:
Whatever storm had claimed Adrian Vale… she was in it now.
And storms don't end with vows.
They begin with them.