Chapter 6 Broken Vows

# Chapter 6: Broken Vows

Elysia Montgomery's penthouse offers a panoramic view of Central Park, the city lights twinkling like fallen stars against the night sky. It's the kind of home I once imagined sharing with Corwin—elegant, expensive, a monument to success and privilege.

"Drink?" she offers, moving to a crystal decanter without waiting for my response.

"I prefer to keep a clear head," I reply, remaining standing despite her gesture toward a plush sofa. "You said we needed to talk about mutual interests."

She hands me a glass anyway—sparkling water with lime. "Perceptive. I like that." Her stilettos click against the marble floor as she circles me, evaluating. "You know, I hated you when you walked into my wedding. Wanted to destroy you almost as much as I wanted to destroy him."

"And now?"

"Now I see we were both pawns in different games." She sits, crossing her legs elegantly. "Corwin used you for a decade, keeping you hidden like a dirty secret while you cleaned up his messes. He used me for my family name and connections, never intending it to be a real marriage."

I take a careful sip of water. "And Alaric?"

A tight smile crosses her features. "Alaric Donovan has been obsessed with destroying Corwin since Victoria's death. He's dated every woman Corwin has been interested in, poached his business deals, and now he's using you—Corwin's most valued possession—as the ultimate weapon."

"I'm not a possession," I say sharply.

"No," she agrees, surprising me. "You're not. Which is precisely why I think we can work together."

She slides a folder across the coffee table—identical to the one Harrison Wells showed me earlier. "Corwin fabricated those trades. I have proof."

I open the folder cautiously, finding bank statements and transaction records with highlighted sections. "How did you get these?"

"My father isn't just a senator. He chairs the banking committee. Access to financial records is... let's call it a family perk." She leans forward. "Corwin used your old login credentials to execute those trades three days before the wedding—after you'd already met with Alaric to plan your grand revelation."

I study the documents, mind racing. "This proves the trades were fraudulent, but not that Corwin placed them."

"Turn to the last page."

I do, finding a statement from Corwin's private bank, showing transfers that correlate perfectly with the timing of the short sales. He wasn't just framing me; he was profiting from his own downfall, hedging his bets in case things went south.

"Why are you helping me?" I ask, suspicion creeping in. "What do you want in return?"

Elysia's perfect facade cracks slightly, revealing something raw underneath. "Contrary to what you might think, I did love him. Or the version of him I thought existed. Finding out about you, about his financial schemes—it broke something in me."

She rises, moving to the window. "My family expects me to salvage this situation. To either reconcile with Corwin for appearance's sake or extract maximum financial compensation. I have no intention of doing either."

"What do you want, then?"

She turns, her expression hardened with resolve. "I want what you want—control of Blake Industries. But unlike Alaric, who's using you to get to Corwin, I'm offering a genuine partnership. You have the operational knowledge; I have the political connections and family name that will reassure the board and shareholders."

The proposal is unexpected but not illogical. "And Alaric?"

"Cut him loose," she says simply. "He's using you, Marcelline. Once Corwin is destroyed, you'll have served your purpose."

Her words echo my own doubts, the fears that have been growing since my conversations with Corwin. Before I can respond, my phone buzzes—Alaric.

"Speak of the devil," Elysia murmurs. "Go ahead, take it. I'll give you privacy."

She glides from the room as I answer. "Hello?"

"Where are you?" Alaric asks, concern evident in his voice. "I went by your apartment. Rebecca said you never came home after the meeting with the board."

"I'm handling something," I reply vaguely, moving to the window. "Did you know about the allegations? The short sales in my name?"

A pause. "I heard rumors. I've been trying to trace the transactions, but they're well hidden."

"Not well enough," I say, glancing at Elysia's documents. "I have proof Corwin fabricated them."

Relief colors his voice. "That's excellent. Where did you get it?"

I hesitate, unsure how much to reveal. "A... concerned party with access to banking records."

"Elysia," he concludes, his tone sharpening. "You're with Elysia Montgomery right now, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Marcelline, listen to me," Alaric says urgently. "Whatever she's told you, whatever deal she's offering—it's a trap. She and Corwin are working together on this."

The accusation catches me off guard. "That's absurd. She hates him as much as I do."

"Do you really believe that? After she threatened you? After she planted doubts about me?" His voice softens. "Think, Marcelline. Who benefits if you and I are at odds? If you start trusting Elysia instead?"

My gaze drifts to the folder on the coffee table. The evidence is compelling, but Alaric's warning rings in my ears.

"I need to go," I tell him. "I'll call you later."

"Marcelline—"

I end the call as Elysia returns, two fresh drinks in hand. "Problems?"

"Alaric thinks you and Corwin are working together," I say directly, watching her reaction.

She laughs, the sound genuinely amused. "Of course he does. It's easier than admitting he's using you just as Corwin did."

She hands me a glass of champagne this time, raising her own in toast. "To women who refuse to be pawns any longer."

I don't drink, setting the glass aside. "I need time to consider your offer."

"Of course." She smiles graciously. "The board meets at nine tomorrow. I'll be there with these documents, whether you partner with me or not. Corwin doesn't get to destroy both our lives and walk away unscathed."

As I leave her penthouse, my mind is a battleground of conflicting theories and suspicions. Corwin claims Alaric is using me. Alaric insists Elysia and Corwin are in league. Elysia suggests they're both manipulating me for their own ends.

The truth feels like a shadow dancing just beyond my grasp.

Instead of going home, I direct my driver to Alaric's building. If I'm going to make a decision by morning, I need answers—real ones, not more carefully crafted stories.

Alaric opens his door looking surprised but pleased. "Marcelline. I wasn't expecting you."

His penthouse is darker than Elysia's, more masculine in its design—leather and wood rather than chrome and glass. He leads me to his living room, where papers and laptop screens suggest he's been working late.

"I need the truth," I say without preamble. "All of it. No more half-revelations or strategic omissions."

He studies me for a long moment before nodding. "Ask me anything."

"Did you approach me six months ago because of my connection to Corwin?"

"Yes," he admits immediately. "Initially, that was my only interest."

"And now?"

He steps closer, his eyes never leaving mine. "Now I find myself thinking about you far more than I think about destroying Corwin."

There's an intensity to his gaze that makes my breath catch. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because I've never lied to you, Marcelline. I may not have told you everything at once, but what I've told you has been true." He takes my hand gently. "Can Corwin say the same? Can Elysia?"

The warmth of his touch is distracting. I withdraw my hand, needing clarity. "Elysia has evidence that Corwin fabricated those trades in my name. She's bringing it to the board tomorrow."

Alaric's eyebrows rise. "That's... unexpected. What does she want in exchange?"

"A partnership. She takes the public-facing role as Chairwoman; I run operations as CEO."

"And me?"

"Out of the picture," I admit.

He nods slowly. "It's a smart play. She gets the prestige and connections; you do the actual work. Corwin loses everything."

"You don't seem upset by the prospect of being cut out."

A small smile touches his lips. "Because I don't believe you're here to tell me goodbye. You're here to see if I'm who I claim to be."

He's right, of course. Despite everything, despite all the warnings and doubts, I'm drawn to Alaric in a way I never was to Corwin. Where Corwin demanded adoration, Alaric offers respect. Where Corwin kept me hidden, Alaric has pushed me into the spotlight.

"I don't know who to trust anymore," I confess, suddenly exhausted.

Alaric's expression softens. "Trust yourself, Marcelline. You've survived ten years of Corwin's manipulation. Your instincts are better than you know."

As if on cue, my phone chimes with a message—from Corwin. My heart sinks as I read it: *"We need to talk. Elysia is playing you. I can prove it. Meet me at the office, 8 AM."*

I show the message to Alaric, who frowns. "It's a trap. He's desperate."

"Or he's telling the truth, and Elysia is the one manipulating the situation," I counter. "Everyone in this game seems to have their own agenda."

"Including me?" Alaric asks quietly.

The question hangs between us, heavy with implication. I study his face, searching for signs of deception, for the subtle tells I learned to recognize in Corwin over the years.

"I don't know," I finally admit. "That's what terrifies me."

He steps closer, his hand gentle as it brushes my cheek. "Then let me make one thing absolutely clear."

His kiss is nothing like Corwin's—not demanding or possessive, but questioning, offering. I respond despite myself, my hands finding their way to his shoulders as the kiss deepens, becoming something more urgent, more honest than any conversation we've had.

When we break apart, I'm breathless, my thoughts scattered. "That doesn't actually clarify anything," I murmur.

He smiles, his forehead resting against mine. "It clarifies everything for me."

Morning finds me in Alaric's bed, watching dawn light filter through the windows. He sleeps beside me, his features relaxed in a way they never are when he's awake. For a moment, I allow myself to imagine a future where business rivalries and revenge plots don't overshadow whatever is growing between us.

But reality intrudes as my phone lights up with a reminder: Board meeting, 9 AM.

I slip from bed, careful not to wake him. On his desk, I notice a folder similar to the one Elysia showed me—bank records, transaction histories. He's been investigating the short sales independently, trying to clear my name.

Beside it lies a handwritten note, apparently a draft of something he intended to give me: *"Whatever happens with Blake Industries, know that my feelings for you have become the most genuine part of this entire venture. —A"*

I trace the words with my fingertip, something tight and warm unfurling in my chest. Maybe, just maybe, not everyone in my life has been playing me for a fool.

With newfound resolve, I dress and prepare to face the day's battles—first Corwin at 8, then the board at 9, with Elysia's unexpected alliance hanging in the balance.

As I reach the door, Alaric stirs. "Leaving without saying goodbye?" he asks, his voice rough with sleep.

I turn back, meeting his gaze. "Not goodbye. Just preparing for war."

His smile is slow and sure. "Need reinforcements?"

For the first time in what feels like forever, I allow myself to truly smile back. "I might. But first, there's something I need to do alone."

As I head to Blake Industries for my meeting with Corwin, I feel a strange sense of calm. Whether it's the clarity that comes with morning or the certainty born from Alaric's embrace, I know one thing for certain: today, the vows that have bound me to silence and shadows for ten years will finally, irrevocably break.