Chapter 9 - The Exchange of VowsThe officiant, an elderly man with a gentle voice, began the ceremony, reading traditional words about love, loyalty, and enduring partnership that sounded like hollow mockery in Julian’s ears.
"Julian, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in holy matrimony, to love her, comfort her, honor her, and keep her, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"
Julian stared into Clara’s dark, unblinking eyes. He knew what was waiting for him back in that room. He knew that even if he survived the wedding, he would never be free. Clara would hold the leash forever, a domestic tyrant pulling the strings of a terrified puppet.
"I..." Julian started, his voice dry as bone.
Far in the distance, a muffled, metallic sound echoed faintly across the estate grounds—the unmistakable sound of splintering wood and heavy blows coming from the direction of the guest house.
Clara’s smile tightened by a fraction of a millimeter. Her grip on his hand turned into a claw.
"I do," Julian finished, his voice steadying with a sudden, dark resolve.
The officiant smiled, turning to Clara. "And Clara, do you take this man..."
Before she could answer, a loud commotion erupted at the back of the glasshouse. Gasps echoed through the rows of seated guests as the double doors of the venue flew open.
Standing in the entrance, framed by the bright midday glare, was a figure covered in dust, wearing tattered clothes and frayed ropes dangling from her wrists, her hair wild and her eyes blazing with absolute fury.
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It was Eleanor.
She had broken free.
