Married to my Billionaire Enemy

Oak Hill Cemetery was cold and gray the day they buried Catherine Vance. 
Elara stood by the grave, surrounded by a small circle of guests who whispers quietly .They’d been waiting for an hour, but there was no sign of Julian Blackwood. 
She wasn’t crying the way a daughter should. She had never been the favorite child, a secret she kept to herself.
 No tears. No grief. Just the dull ache of being the daughter who was never quite enough.
You should cry, she told herself. People are watching. But the tears wouldn’t come. 
Not even her husband knew the truth. She had always wanted a real family, and she thought she found it in Julian until the last few weeks showed her the truth. 
The rain began to fall, and the whispers grew louder behind her. 
“Do you think he’d show up after what he did to Marcus?” 
“I saw the news. Julian’s at the Charity Gala with Isabella Cruz. Look.” 
Elara’s phone buzzed. Sarah’s text: I’m so sorry. Don’t look at the news. 
Elara’s breath hitched. Her fingers shook as she checked anyway. 
It was true. Her husband was with Vance Motors’ top model, Isabella Cruz. Together, they looked like a power couple. The photos showed them laughing, his hand on the small of her back as cameras flashed. 
Julian was the type of man everyone noticed. Tall, broad shoulders, sharp jawline. The kind of stare that made confessions spill out. He carried authority like a second skin even through a picture. 
Why was she still waiting for him? 
Despite everything, she had hope. After all, they weren’t just a married couple they were college sweethearts. At least, that was what she believed. 
Julian had not come home since the police took her father away. Her calls were blocked. Because she’d been caring for her dying mother, she couldn’t go to his office. But it was not clear why her husband had attacked her father, Marcus Vance. 
“Let’s lower the casket,” Elara said, her voice soft and weak. 
Thirty minutes later, her mother was buried. The small crowd dispersed quickly no one wanted to linger at a funeral where the widower was in jail and the son-in-law was conspicuously absent. 
Only the old housekeeper wept. 
Her parents had never been kind people, even to her. They had treated her more like a servant than a daughter. The Vances had liked Julian because he was smart and ruthless, someone they could trust the business to.
If only they’d known Julian had planned to take it all from them. 
When everyone was gone, Elara finally cried. Not because she missed her mother, or because her father was in jail, but because of the heavy pain in her chest. The lies. The shame. The heartbreak. 
“Elara, what will you do?” Sarah, her best friend, asked. 
“I already knew my parents were guilty,” Elara answered. 
“But what about Julian?” Sarah pressed.
Elara looked at the wet grass and whispered, “I don’t know. I really don’t know.” She went back to their empty penthouse, hoping for answers. But the silence was the only thing that greeted her." That night, Elara watched the clock tick past 10:00 PM.
She’d dialed Julian’s number three times. No answer.
He’s not coming home again, she thought, her heart sinking.
She turned toward the bedroom, exhausted, when the sound of the front lock clicking made her freeze. 
The door opened. 
Her heart soared. 
“Julian? You’re back.” 
Julian stepped into the light, wearing a dark cashmere coat. His tall figure looked even more striking in the cold winter air, but his face was unreadable. He didn’t smile. He didn’t move to hug her. 
“Elara,” he said, his voice void of warmth. “I have something to tell you.” 
Her stomach dropped. Something was wrong.
“Why not have something to eat first?” she asked, her voice trembling. “We can discuss it later.” 
Julian walked past her. He didn’t take off his coat. He barely looked at her. 
“Not tonight,” he said coldly. “Come to my office tomorrow morning. We will finish this there.” 
He turned and walked out the door, leaving her standing in the silence. 
Elara swallowed hard. Her smile faded. She stood there in disbelief, staring at the door he’d just closed. The next morning, Elara went to the company building. 
Julian did not come home that night. She knew he wouldn’t.
On the top floor, his secretary tried to stop her. 
“Mrs. Blackwood,” the secretary stood up from her desk. “You can’t..”
Elara was already past her, heels clicking across marble. She shoved open the double doors to Julian’s office.
And froze.
Isabella Cruz sat partially on the edge of Julian’s desk, leaning close enough that her hair brushed his shoulder. His hand rested casually on her waist. They were laughing about something. 
They looked like a couple. 
Elara’s chest tightened. She couldn’t breathe.
This was the man who’d sworn to protect her. 
“Oh!” Isabella straightened, smoothing her dress with theatrical slowness. “Elara! I didn’t hear you come in.” Her smile promised and threatened in equal measure. “This isn’t what it looks like I was just showing Jay the new campaign shots.” 
Jay. 
Elara’s throat tightened. She’d called him Julian for five years. He’d told her he hated nicknames. 
“Enough,” Julian said. Not to Elara to Isabella.
“But we haven’t finished..” 
“The model collected her portfolio with exaggerated care, pausing to touch Julian’s arm as she passed. “See you tonight? I got that wine you like.”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. Isabella’s smirk said everything as the door clicked shut. 
Elara’s stomach turned. For years, Julian had never let her come to the penthouse he used for work. Now she knew why. 
After Isabella left, Elara spoke.
“Julian, we have to talk.” 
“Yes, we do.” He didn’t look at her. He pulled a file from his desk and slid the papers across to her. “Let’s get a divorce.” 
The floor seemed to tilt. 
"what?”
“You heard me.”
Five years. Five years of marriage reduced to a folder of legal documents. 
“Why?” Her voice broke. “Is it because of Isabella?”
He looked at her with eyes that held no love. “Leave Isabella out of this. She’s useful to the brand. You never were.”
“Our marriage ” Julian’s voice was steady, almost clinical. “It was a means to an end. I needed access to your father. You provided it.”
“No.” The word came out strangled. “No, you’re saying this because you’re angry about the company, about the investigation, but we…”
“Were we?” He tilted his head, studying her like a specimen. “Happy? In love?”
“We were married! For five years, Julian, you told me—”
“I told you what you needed to hear.”
Elara’s vision blurred. She blinked hard, refusing to let him see her break. “You’re lying. You have to be lying. At graduation, you said—the night you proposed, you—”
“Good performances require commitment.” Julian leaned back in his chair. “Do you want to know why I really married you, Elara?”
She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.
“Your father murdered mine.”
The words landed like a slap.
“What?”
“Twenty years ago, Marcus Vance stole my father’s engine designs. Filed the patent under Vance Motors. When my father threatened to sue, Marcus burned our shop to the ground.” Julian’s voice never wavered, never cracked. “My father died in that fire. Your family fortune? Built on theft and murder.” 
“That’s my father i would never..”
“The evidence is all there. How do you think I got him arrested?” A cruel smile touched his lips. “I’ve been collecting it for years. Every document. Every witness. Every lie your father told.” 
Elara shook her head, tears spilling over. “I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t”
“It doesn’t matter what you knew.” Julian stood, buttoning his jacket You’re a Vance. You lived on blood money. That’s enough.”
“But I didn’t do that!” Elara cried. “I didn’t know anything! My father kept me out of the business. 
“It doesn’t matter.” His face was hard as stone. “From the start, Elara, I was never going to love you.” 
Elara’s body went numb. She didn’t know how long she stood there, too hurt to move, before she finally spoke. 
“So all this time, you never… You never loved me? You just used me?” 
Julian met her eyes. For the first time since she’d entered his office, he looked at her directly and what she saw there was worse than hatred. 
Indifference. 
“Never,” he said quietly. “It was all a game.”
He walked past her toward the door.
“I love you.” The words escaped before she could stop them. “I really loved you.”
Julian paused, his hand on the doorknob.
One heartbeat. 
Two. 
Then he left without looking back. 
Elara stood alone in his office, the divorce papers blurring in her vision. Five years of marriage reduced to a stack of legal documents. 
Everything she’d believed was a lie.