PROLOGUE — Silent Vows
Serene Frost had never feared silence before.
It had always been her shield—soft, quiet, protective. A cocoon in which she could hide from the cruelty of the world, from the mocking laughter of her stepsister, from the sharp words of her stepmother, from the bitterness of a father who had long ago stopped noticing her.
But today, in a hall decorated with towering white roses and the murmurs of well-dressed guests, silence felt like a punishment.
The veil over her face trembled as she took a step forward. Not because she was nervous—but because she wasn't supposed to be the bride.
Ava was.
Ava, with her smug smile and carefully rehearsed charm, the daughter her father favored, the stepdaughter who had stolen what little warmth Serene had left at home. Ava had run away the moment she overheard Ethan's words—the cruel truth that he was marrying not out of love, but for revenge.
Now, Serene walked in her place. She walked toward the man who had once held her small hand beneath the sprawling oaks of their childhood garden, who had promised her, in the innocence of youth, that he would marry her someday. That he would never let the world hurt her.
Ethan Leo.
He stood at the altar like a sculpture carved from frost—imposing, elegant, untouchably cold. The boy who had once brushed leaves from her hair with such tenderness now refused to meet her gaze. The warmth they had shared in childhood had been replaced with something sharp, something dangerous.
Each step she took echoed like a heartbeat she wished she could silence, bouncing off the marble floors and the crystal chandeliers. Every pair of eyes in the room followed her, expecting a quiet, obedient bride. No one noticed the girl behind the veil—the one who had loved him with every breath she had ever taken, whose heart still raced at the sight of him, whose soul ached at the memory of his betrayal.
The scent of his cologne hit her first, familiar and intimate, but now it burned her from the inside out. Comfort had turned to torment. Memories of laughter and whispered secrets clawed through her chest, only to be replaced by the icy reality: the boy she had loved had become the man who hated her.
When he finally met her eyes, she froze. Cold. Sharp. Wounded. All the warmth of their childhood vanished, replaced by a calculated distance that cut deeper than any words ever could.
"As expected," he whispered, low enough that only she could hear. "Your family never fails to disappoint."
Her stomach twisted. She wanted to defend herself, to explain, to cry, but no words would come. Her silence was not a choice. Not anymore.
The priest cleared his throat, awkwardly. "We are gathered here today—"
Serene didn't hear the rest. All she could hear was the echo of hatred that clung to Ethan, the laughter of her stepmother that had followed her from childhood into this hall, the indifference of her father who had always chosen Ava over her, and the violent crash of marble against flesh from the stairs that had stolen her voice forever.
The memories came in fragments, unrelenting and sharp: the day she first met Ethan under a golden sunset, the whispered promise of forever, the betrayal that had shattered it all, and the moment she realized the truth about her father and stepmother.
"Do you, Ethan Leo, take Serene Frost—"
"I do." The word rang out sharp, clipped, almost violent. Not love. Not even duty. Just revenge given a voice.
"And do you, Serene Frost—"
Her lips parted. Nothing.
A soft murmur passed through the hall, but Serene's gaze remained fixed on Ethan. She didn't flinch. She couldn't. Her nod was slight, almost imperceptible—but it was hers. A vow without words, the only vow she could give.
Ethan's eyes flickered. First anger, then something more complicated, something almost human—but quickly masked by the armor of indifference he had built over the years. For a heartbeat, she imagined recognition there, a shadow of the boy who had once loved her. But it was gone.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife."
Silence swallowed the hall.
Ethan did not move toward her. Did not smile, did not touch, did not kiss. He stayed frozen, the embodiment of his own carefully crafted wrath. Serene lowered her gaze, letting the veil hide the tears that threatened to fall.
She had married the man she loved. He had married the girl he hated.
And yet, in the quiet between them, beneath the carefully curated coldness, something lingered. Something unspoken. Something that neither could ignore.
In a hall filled with flowers, music, and blessings, only her silence knew the truth: that their story was far from over, that love and hate could exist in the same heartbeat, and that the vows they had exchanged without words were the beginning of a storm that neither would be able to escape.
As the crowd applauded, Serene felt the weight of the future press down on her. She walked beside Ethan, a ghost of the girl she once was, carrying the silent hope that one day, he might remember the truth.
The wedding was over.
But their real story—pain, love, revenge, and redemption—was just beginning.