HIGH SCHOOL DIARIES (A Tale Of Love And Deception)

The church in Roselake was eerily quiet, its modest walls a far cry from the opulent grandeur Elena Roswell had once dreamed of for her wedding day. The Roswell family had been stripped of their fortune, and their disgrace hung heavily in the air. There were no grand halls, no esteemed guests from the wealthiest circles of Valemont. Instead, a small gathering of close relatives and a few loyal friends filled the pews, their faces clouded with pity and unease.

At the altar stood Richard Wayne, wearing a simple black suit that, though neatly pressed, could not disguise his humble origins. His eyes, dark and piercing, locked onto Elena as she walked slowly down the aisle. She was still stunning—her auburn hair falling in soft waves, her sharp blue eyes radiant even beneath the veil of shame that covered her family. The white dress she wore was plain, not the lavish gown she had once envisioned, but it did little to diminish her natural beauty.

Elena's face was expressionless as she took her place beside Richard. She didn't look at him, her gaze fixed somewhere over his shoulder, her jaw tight with barely concealed disdain. The officiant began the ceremony, but the words felt hollow, each syllable weighed down by the tension between them.

When the moment came to exchange vows, Elena's voice was low, strained. "I do," she muttered, her lips barely moving. Richard, sensing her bitterness, leaned in close as he slipped the ring onto her finger.

"You'll get used to this life, Elena," he whispered, his voice laced with a dark satisfaction.

Her blue eyes flashed with fury as she looked up at him for the first time. "I will never forgive you for this."

Richard smiled coldly. "That doesn't matter. I've already won."

The kiss that followed was brief, barely a brush of lips, and devoid of any affection. It was the sealing of a contract, a transaction of power rather than a union of love. As the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, a murmur of uneasy applause filled the small chapel. No one smiled, no one laughed. It was a joyless occasion, marked by the bitter undercurrent of a family's downfall.

The reception was held in the once-grand Roswell mansion, now stripped of its former glory. The ballroom, where Elena's family had once hosted lavish parties, was sparsely decorated, with only a few tables of guests. The Roswells' fortune had been lost, their estates sold to cover debts, leaving behind only memories of their past grandeur.

Richard noticed the absence of his own parents but did not care. He had not invited them. He had climbed the social ladder alone, clawing his way out of poverty without their help, and he saw no reason to include them in this new chapter of his life. They belonged to the past—a past he intended to forget.

Elena sat beside him, silent and seething, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. She refused to eat, her plate untouched, as the few guests whispered behind their hands about the strange union. No one understood why Elena had agreed to marry Richard, the man who had orchestrated her family's ruin, but the truth was painfully clear to those who knew the full story. She had no choice. Her family was broken, and this marriage was the only option left to save what little dignity they had.

The early days of their marriage were as cold and distant as their wedding. Elena moved into the small but respectable home Richard had purchased in Roselake, and they lived as strangers under the same roof. She despised him, and Richard, though victorious in his schemes, found little joy in his conquest. He had won Elena's hand, but he knew she loathed him for it.

Their interactions were brief and hostile. At dinner, they ate in silence, the only sound the clinking of silverware on plates. At night, they shared a bed, but there was no intimacy, no warmth. Elena slept with her back to him, and Richard, though tempted to reach out to her, knew better than to push.

Months passed, and slowly, the bitterness began to fade—not because they had forgiven each other, but because they had grown weary of the constant tension. The walls between them remained, but cracks began to form. They exchanged occasional words—about the house, about the weather, about trivial things. And while the love they once might have shared never materialized, a strange, grudging respect began to grow.

Elena, for all her resentment, couldn't help but notice Richard's determination. He worked tirelessly to build a new life for them, and despite her hatred, she admired his drive. And Richard, though still consumed by the bitterness of his past, found himself captivated by Elena's strength. She was proud, unyielding, and even in her fall from grace, she maintained a dignity that intrigued him.

It was during this fragile peace that Elena discovered she was pregnant. The news stunned them both. For the first time since their marriage, Richard felt a flicker of hope, a possibility that things could change. He imagined a future where they could be a family, where the walls between them could finally come down. Elena, though less hopeful, couldn't deny the significance of the child growing inside her. Perhaps this baby could be the bridge between them.

But as the months went on, the pregnancy took a heavy toll on Elena. She grew weaker with each passing week, her once-strong body ravaged by complications that left her bedridden. The doctors were concerned, but Elena remained stoic, refusing to show fear. She had always been strong, and she wasn't about to let this break her.

Richard, for the first time in his life, felt helpless. He stayed by her side, watching as the woman he had once sought to destroy was slowly being destroyed by something far more powerful than him. Despite everything, he didn't want to lose her. Not like this.

The day of the birth arrived, and it was nothing short of a nightmare. Elena screamed in agony as the labor stretched on for hours. Richard was beside her, holding her hand, his knuckles white from the force of her grip. The doctors moved frantically, trying to keep both mother and baby alive, but it was clear something was terribly wrong.

"Elena," Richard whispered, his voice thick with fear. "You're going to be fine. Just hold on."

But Elena's eyes, clouded with pain, told a different story. She knew. She had known for months. "Promise me," she gasped, her breath coming in ragged bursts. "Promise me you'll take care of our child."

Richard nodded, but before he could respond, a sharp cry pierced the air. The baby was born—a healthy boy with hazel eyes, just like his mother. For a brief moment, there was relief. But then, everything went wrong.

As the doctors placed the baby in Elena's arms, her body convulsed violently. Richard watched in horror as her abdomen tore open with a sickening sound. Blood poured out in torrents as Elena's body exploded from the inside, her organs spilling across the bed in a grotesque display. The doctors screamed, frantically trying to stop the hemorrhaging, but it was too late.

Elena was gone.

The room descended into chaos, but Richard stood frozen, staring at the remains of the woman he had once vowed to destroy. In that moment, he felt nothing but rage. Rage at the world, at the baby, at himself. The child—their son—had taken Elena from him, and all he could feel was hatred.

Without a word, Richard stormed out of the room, leaving the screaming baby behind. He drove through the rain-soaked streets, his mind clouded with fury. When he reached his parents' house in Raven Hollow, he tossed the child into their arms and left without an explanation.

As he drove away, a bolt of lightning struck his car, sending it careening off the road. The vehicle smashed into a tree, and Richard's head was split open upon impact. He died instantly, his body as broken as the life he had tried so hard to build.

Mr. Wayne and his wife took the child in, raising him as their own. They named him Damian—meaning "to tame"—hoping they could do for him what they had failed to do for their son. Damian grew into a handsome boy with his mother's hazel eyes, but there was always something unusual about him. Even as a child, he seemed to know things he shouldn't, as if he carried some ancient knowledge deep within him.

Little did they know, the future held something far more dangerous they could ever imagined.