Chapter 1Vow of the Vane: Eight Years of Lies, One Lifetime of Power

Preston said he would propose on our fourth anniversary.

But this is our eighth year together.

He claims to love me, yet he’s relentlessly pursuing a younger intern from his office.

To please her, he even outbid everyone at a charity auction just to snatch away my mother’s only heirloom.

"Misty has never seen anything nice; she’s obsessed with this. Just let her have it this once. I’ll make it up to you later."

"Fine."

This time, I didn't cry. I didn't scream.

Instead, I dialed a number I hadn't called in years.

"Elias, what you said last time... does it still stand?"

He was silent for a second, then repeated it clearly: "Dump Preston. Marry me."

"Okay. I’ll do it."

* * *

Elias was clearly stunned.

We sat in silence for two full minutes.

"Are you serious?" he finally asked, his voice low.

"Yes."

He let out a deep, dark chuckle. "I’ll be waiting."

"Who were you talking to?"

Preston suddenly wrapped his arms around me from behind, startling me. I quickly locked my phone and shook my head.

"Still upset? Look, you know Misty doesn't have the privileges you grew up with. You can afford to be generous."

"Right."

Preston’s phone wouldn't stop vibrating.

He looked down to reply, a soft, genuine smile playing on his lips. It was a message from Misty.

The photo was impossible to miss.

My mother’s necklace was draped around her neck, resting right against her deep cleavage. The photo was a suggestive close-up, showing the lace of her lingerie.

"Preston."

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, mesmerized by the screen. He even let out a small, enamored laugh, completely ignoring me.

"Preston!"

I raised my voice, and he snapped his head up. "What? What is it?"

"When are you actually going to propose?"

Preston tucked his phone away, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "Aren't we... still young? There's no rush."

"Youth is for having fun. Since you were so 'generous' today, the guys threw a party to celebrate my 'gracious' wife. Want to come?"

His eyes told me everything. He was desperately hoping I’d say no.

"I—"

He cut me off, hugging me tightly. "Actually, I’ll tell them you’re tired. You hate the smell of smoke and booze anyway. Just wait for me at home, okay?"

I looked down, a bitter laugh escaping my throat. Preston took it as a happy "yes."

Having achieved his goal, he didn't waste another word. He grabbed his phone and headed for the door. As he left, I saw him zooming in on that photo of Misty.

I took my robe and caught my reflection in the mirror.

Average body. Average face.

Misty and I were clearly from two different worlds, two different stages of life.

At midnight, one of Preston’s friends, Jax, posted an update.

It was a video. The music was deafening, the VIP lounge dripping with excess. Young socialites were cheering on the dance floor.

Then, the music paused for a second.

I heard a familiar voice.

"Jax, I think I’m going to propose to Misty."

It was Preston.

I set my phone down, stared at the ceiling, and took a deep breath. Our relationship survived the seven-year itch, but it couldn't survive one cold winter.