The Ashes of Vows (Elara and Damon) novel Chapter 7

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By the time I got back to the villa, it was already past midnight.

A cake with blown–out candles sat on the living room table. Damon was on the couch with Sloane, unwrapping gifts.

Damon saw me, dripping wet, and froze.“Elle, you…

I sent a car for you, didn’t I?”

He frowned, quickly snatching a towel, then reached out to dry my hair.

But my glare, cold as ice, pinned him. Without a flicker of hesitation, I raised my hand-

My hand flew out, a sharp, stinging slap–but just then, a figure darted in front of Damon, shielding him.

SMACK!

Sloane gasped, clutching her face.

“Ah!”

A bright red handprint instantly bloomed on her cheek.

She crumpled into Damon’s arms, her teary eyes looking utterly helpless.

“Sloane, are you okay?”

Damon pulled her into a tight embrace, his fingers trembling as he reached for her cheek.

The moment his fingers brushed the rapidly swelling mark, rage boiled over. He whipped the towel in his hand toward me.

“Elara!

Are you out of your

mind?!”

The towel lashed across my forehead with a stinging force, sending my wet, curly hair into disarray. I stumbled, barely keeping my

“Damon, I was so wrong about you.”

I fought back tears, a mocking edge to my whisper.

“You’d trade me away for some insignificant ring?

That’s just sickening, Damon!”

Damon flinched, a flicker of pained regret crossing his stunned face.

But then, Sloane stepped between us, her hand outstretched to block me, her voice trembling with a sob:“I won’t let you talk about Damon like that!

“You’re

angry, you want to hit someone? Take it out on me!”

Seriously, what a show of undying love.

Damon’s last bit of sympathy shattered. He swept Sloane up into his arms, “Sweetheart, I’ll handle this.”

feet.

He finished, his icy gaze landing on me.“Those photos usually go up for auction in about six months. When they do, I’ll buy them all back, even if it costs a billion or ten billion dollars.

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But Elara, you never should’ve laid a hand on Sloane!

Six months?

But by then, I was already long gone.

I just gave a ‘whatever‘ smirk. I caught his words right before he started up the stairs.

“You wanna avoid assault charges and spending the night in lockup? Then get your butt out to the yard and kneel, now!”

Midnight. The rain started picking up.

Private doctors‘ cars started rolling into the mansion.

Headlights flashed, cutting through the dark, carving out shadows. I was on my knees, a stiff figure, unmoving in the rain, with a few bodyguards standing guard over me.

Two hours later, two figures emerged onto the master bedroom balcony. Their forms overlapped, looking down at the yard.

“Oh, Damon,” Sloane cooed, “Elara looks so pathetic.”

Sloane’s voice was syrupy sweet, but it was dripping with the smug mockery of a winner.“My face is all bruised, so my birthday party will be pushed back a few days. Why don’t we invite Elara to join us then?

I bet she hasn’t even seen that yacht you got me yet.”

”

Damon’s gaze was hidden in the shadows.“Alright, you set it up.

Sloane, I’m sorry. I didn’t protect you.”

Their sickeningly tender conversation shredded my last bit of hope.

Yeah, the Damon who used to care about me? He’d died a thousand deaths already.

I squeezed my fists tight.

The yacht.

Good. That’s where we’ll have our final showdown.

Kneeling out in the rain that night left a ring of purple bruises on my knees.

Even two days later, walking still hurt. But I limped my way to the courthouse and picked up the divorce papers.

When I got back to the mansion, the bodyguard’s car was already waiting downstairs,

“Ma’am, Mr. Blackwood wants you at Miss Sloane’s birthday party.”

I placed one copy of the divorce papers on the nightstand in the master bedroom. Then I dug out my wedding ring, which I hadn’t worn in ages, and let the bodyguard take me to the party.

On the deck of the luxury yacht, gifts of all sizes were piled high. A champagne tower sparkled under the lights, and impeccably dressed servers wove through the crowd.

“Mr. Blackwood, you’re so possessive!”

“Every time it lands on Sloane, you won’t even let her have a sip!”

At a long table, a bunch of rich kids from their circle were playing spin the bottle with Sloane.

沉

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The moment I stepped onto the deck, the spinning bottle, almost on cue, pointed right at me.

Someone in the crowd snickered.

“Well, isn’t that convenient?

Whoever the bottle points to has to take a dare!”