Chapter 8 - The Vale Oath
Two weeks after the night of the storm, the grand ballroom of the Vale Estate was decorated with thousands of white orchids, crystal chandeliers, and golden ribbons.
Over two hundred guests had gathered—every legitimate business partner, politician, high-court judge, and syndicate leader from Boston to Miami.
They were dressed in tuxedos and evening gowns, whispering among themselves as they waited for Roman Vale to make his official public declaration.
At eight o’clock, the heavy mahogany doors at the head of the ballroom opened.
Roman walked out onto the elevated marble terrace.
He wore a tailored black tuxedo that highlighted his broad shoulders and commanding presence. His face was sharp, handsome, and filled with absolute authority.
Beside him, her hand resting gracefully on his arm, was me.
I wore a floor-length white silk gown that swept the floor, custom-designed by Paris tailors. My dark hair was styled in soft waves, secured with a diamond hairpin Roman had gifted me that morning.
Walking between us, holding both of our hands, was four-year-old Lily, looking like a little princess in a lace dress, smiling radiantly at the clapping crowd.
The room fell completely silent as Roman stepped up to the gold microphone at the edge of the terrace.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Roman’s voice echoed smoothly across the vast hall. “For years, the name Vale was associated with war, territory, and shadows.”
He turned his head, looking down at me and Lily with an expression of such profound love that the hard-nosed politicians in the front row swallowed hard.
“Two months ago,” Roman continued, “I was dying in a cold hospital room. My empire was falling apart. My spirit was broken. And then, a woman walked into my room with a sick child in her arms.”
He raised his hand, taking my fingers into his, holding them up before the entire room.
“Elena Miller gave me a reason to wake up,” Roman declared, his deep voice carrying to every corner of the room. “She gave me back my life. And tonight, before every man and woman who answers to my name, I make the sacred Vale Oath.”
He looked into the crowd, his eyes turning cold as zero-degree ice as he delivered his warning to the world:
“Elena Miller and her daughter Lily are under my permanent, absolute protection. Anyone who raises a hand against them... anyone who speaks a threat against them... will answer to me and the full weight of my empire.”
Cheering and thunderous applause erupted through the grand ballroom.
May you like
Roman turned to me, pulling me into his chest in front of every high-society guest in the country.
“You are my queen, Elena,” Roman whispered against my lips. “And this empire belongs to you.”
