Shattered Vows,The Billionaire's Fatal BetrayalChapter 1

The Delgado family was cursed. No man in the bloodline survived past thirty. The only way to break it was to marry into my clan.

But on my wedding day, Ian Delgado tore up our marriage contract in front of everyone—for the woman he truly loved.

When the Delgado elders tried to intervene, he fixed me with a stare full of raw hatred, his voice cutting through the murmurs of the crowd.

"Clara Pruitt, you're nothing but a gold-digging fraud. Your people have been swindling the Delgado family for nearly a century—money, loyalty, everything. But it ends with me. Your free ride is over."

Nadia Henson clung to his arm, looking me up and down with a thin, contemptuous smile.

"What are you standing there for? Get lost."

She lifted her chin. "With a medical PhD like me by his side, forget thirty—Ian could live to a hundred and thirty."

I thought of the pulse I'd checked that morning. Ian's heartbeat, already so faint it was barely there.

A cold laugh echoed somewhere deep inside me.

Fine. His thirtieth birthday is in three days. That will settle everything.

Soon enough.

——

I turned to leave, but Violet Delgado rushed forward and grabbed my hand.

"Clara, don't go!"

She whipped around to face her son, her expression hardening in an instant.

"Ian, apologize to Clara right now. Stop this nonsense!"

Ian's fingers stayed locked around Nadia's hand. He didn't move. Violet lowered her voice, each word weighted with dread.

"You know exactly why the Delgado men have married into their clan for generations. Thirty years ago, your uncle broke that rule. On his thirtieth birthday, a semi-truck crushed him beyond recognition."

"And your third uncle—he called off his engagement with the same fearless look on your face right now. The moment he blew out his birthday candles, blood poured from every orifice and he dropped dead."

"Your birthday is three days away. You are signing your own death warrant. Now apologize to Clara—"

"Enough, Mom!"

"Uncle died in a traffic accident. Third Uncle had a heart attack. What the hell does any of that have to do with some marriage superstition?"

Ian cut her off, impatience etched across every feature. He jabbed a finger in my direction and let out a derisive scoff.

"Marriage pact? Curse? It's a con. Tailor-made to bleed our family dry."