Fractured Vows, Stolen Promises

Chapter 1: The Funeral She Witnessed

Evangeline Torres stood in the shadows, hidden beneath the heavy black veil that concealed her face. The biting wind howled around her, lifting strands of her dark hair as she watched the scene unfolding before her. The cemetery was damp from last night’s storm, the scent of wet earth clinging to the air. Beneath the looming sky, a priest murmured solemn prayers over an ornate casket, the polished wood glistening under the pale winter sun.

Her casket.

The name Evangeline Devereaux was etched into the silver plaque, a cruel reminder of the life she had left behind.

Her hands clenched into fists, the delicate lace of her gloves pressing against her palms. Her heart thundered in her chest, not from fear of being seen, but from the man who stood at the front of the mourning crowd.

Luca Devereaux.

The man she once called husband.

He was dressed in a custom black suit, sharp and perfectly tailored. His presence alone demanded attention—tall, powerful, utterly untouchable. Even with his hands in his pockets and an emotionless expression on his face, he exuded dominance.

Evangeline studied him, searching for any sign of grief. Would his jaw tighten? Would his lips press into a hard line? Would his fingers twitch with restraint?

Nothing.

He didn’t even pretend to be in mourning.

Anger coiled in her chest, burning hotter than the cold wind that whipped against her. This was the man she had once loved, the man she had trusted with her heart, only to be betrayed in the cruelest way possible. And now, standing at what he believed was her grave, Luca Devereaux showed nothing.

Not regret.

Not sadness.

Not even relief.

He was completely unaffected.

Her vision blurred as memories clawed their way to the surface—memories of the love they once shared, of whispered promises and stolen kisses. She remembered the first time he touched her, the way his lips had lingered at her temple as he vowed to protect her from everything.

But in the end, he was the one she needed protection from.

Evangeline forced herself to focus on the present. She had faked her death for a reason. If Luca had even the faintest idea that she was still alive, he would come for her. And she would never escape his grasp again.

From a distance, she studied the mourners—business associates, underworld figures, and a few members of the high society that still associated with the Devereaux family. But she wasn’t looking for them. She was looking for the one person who wasn’t here.

Her father.

Her stomach clenched as the realization hit her. He wasn’t at her funeral. Why?

A new kind of fear gripped her, different from the fear of being caught. Something was wrong.

Then, Luca moved.

His posture remained composed as he reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a cigarette. He placed it between his lips, lighting it with a flick of his expensive silver lighter.

Disrespectful.

She had once heard people say that grief changed men. That even the cruelest, coldest souls could break when faced with loss. But not Luca.

No.

This was a man who had no soul left to break.

She swallowed against the lump in her throat. I shouldn’t be here. Staying too long increased the risk of exposure, and if Luca saw her—even for a second—he would hunt her down like an animal.

Taking a shaky breath, she turned to leave, moving carefully through the trees that surrounded the cemetery. Each step was silent, deliberate. She had perfected the art of disappearing.

But just as she reached the wrought-iron gate, she heard it.

Luca’s voice.

“Get rid of it.”

Her body stiffened, her fingers tightening around the gate. Her heart slammed against her ribs. He couldn’t be talking about—

She turned her head just enough to see him flick the cigarette onto the grave. Smoke curled in the cold air as he exhaled slowly.

His next words were even colder.

“She’s dead to me.”

Something inside Evangeline shattered.

For three years, she had convinced herself that he had loved her once, even if it had been brief. That maybe, just maybe, a part of him had regretted what happened.

But he had no regrets.

Luca had never loved her.

The truth slammed into her, a brutal and unforgiving force.

She had been nothing to him.

Just another possession. Another pawn in his game of power and control.

A cold numbness spread through her, washing away the last of her lingering pain. She had spent too long grieving a man who had never deserved her love in the first place.

She turned her back on Luca Devereaux for the final time and disappeared into the city she had once called home.

Hours Later – Safe House

Evangeline sat in a dimly lit apartment, staring at the flickering candle on the worn wooden table. The air smelled of burning wax and cheap coffee, the only comfort in this suffocating silence.

She had done it. She had seen him, had stood at her own grave, and walked away unseen.

Then why did it feel like she was the one who had died today?

Her phone buzzed.

Unknown Number.

Her stomach twisted, and for a long moment, she hesitated. Then, with a slow exhale, she swiped to answer.

A deep, unfamiliar voice spoke.

“Your father has been taken.”

The air left her lungs.

“Who is this?” she demanded, gripping the phone tight.

“Not important. If you want him back, you know who to ask for help.”

The call ended.

She stared at the screen, heart racing, mind spinning.

There was only one man with enough power to save her father.

Luca.

But going back to him meant risking everything.

Her freedom.

Her secrets.

Her heart.

She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly as she came to the terrifying realization.

She had no choice.

Tomorrow, she would walk back into Luca Devereaux’s world.

And this time, she might never escape.