Married to my enemy

Chapter One: The Wedding I Didn’t Choose "If this is what love looks like... then I want nothing to do with it. Love is toxic, dangerous—and worst of all, bloody." Alina Hayes whispered to her reflection, her voice trembling. Her eyes, once filled with hope, now stared back hollow and afraid. She was getting married tomorrow. To a man she never chose. A man who destroyed her life. A forced wedding which was set for 9 a.m. sharp—to Damien Wolfe, the ruthless billionaire who ruined everything her family had built. Her so-called soulmate. A cruel joke of fate. Her bedroom door creaked open. Her mother, Catherine Hayes, stepped inside. Guilt clung to her like perfume, thick and suffocating. She knew it was all her and her husband's fault, Charles Hayes. “Alina,” she said softly, “we’re so sorry for putting you through this marriage. Everything will be okay, baby. We’re still here for you.” Alina turned away sharply, tears glistening in her eyes. “But why me, Mom? Why am I the one suffering for your choices?” Her voice cracked. “Why am I carrying a cross that isn’t mine? This—this is the worst punishment. To marry someone I feel nothing for… someone I’m terrified of. Please....just leave me alone. ” Her mother stood frozen, pain flickering across her face. But she said nothing. Just walked away, closing the door behind her. Alina folded herself on the bed, hugging her knees to her chest. Her body trembled, not from the cold, but from the weight of everything she was being forced to endure. Her phone rang. She jumped. “Who’s calling me now?” she muttered. Then her heart eased slightly. "Ohhh, Joan". Her best friend. She answered. “Alina!” Joan’s voice was bright. “Your gown just arrived—and girl, it’s gorgeous. I’m heading over now. I need to get you ready. You need to try it on!” “Thanks, Joan,” Alina said quietly and ended the call. Evening came. Joan showed up, carrying the dress in her arms like a prized possession. But as they sat on Alina’s bed together, the mood was far from joyful. “Joan,” Alina whispered, “I don’t think I can survive this. How do I live with a man who feels nothing? Who looks at me like I’m... property. I don’t love him. I can’t love him.” Joan took her hand. “You’re stronger than you think, Alina. You’ll survive this. You always do.” They talked long into the night until exhaustion took over, and both girls drifted off to sleep. The next morning came like a nightmare wrapped in white silk. The church bells rang. Her name echoed through the stained-glass cathedral. Alina stood in a white wedding gown that didn’t belong to her soul. It clung to her body like a noose disguised as beauty. Her feet moved forward, not with joy—but dread. To the world, she looked like a princess. But inside, she knew she was a prisoner. Each step down the aisle was a betrayal. Not just of her heart—but of the girl she used to be. The chandelier above glimmered, mocking her. A thousand crystals shining down on a lie dressed in satin and pearls. People smiled and clapped. Cameras flashed. They thought this was her happily ever after. But it was anything but. Her heart was pounding as she walked toward the man who ruined her life. Damien Wolfe.He was tall, intimidating, heartless. He stood at the altar like a king claiming what was his. Their eyes met. His expression was unreadable, but the glint in his eyes wasn’t joy. It was possession. Power. Ruthless satisfaction. His lips curved, but it wasn’t a smile—it was more like a warning. He didn’t want a wife. He wanted a win. The bouquet trembled in her hands. Not from nerves—but because it was actually the only thing stopping her from running away. “How did I end up here?” she asked herself silently, every step feeling heavier than the last. This wasn’t just a wedding. This was a sentence. --- Her past flashed before her as she neared the altar. Alina was born into privilege—mansions, private schools, servants, and success. Her father, Charles Hayes, built Hayes Pharmaceuticals from scratch. He was admired. Respected. Trusted. Until Damien Wolfe appeared like a shadow and destroyed everything. He bought the company shares behind her father’s back. Within weeks, Hayes Pharmaceuticals collapsed. Her father suffered a stroke. Their world fell apart. Damien didn’t just destroy their business. He dismantled their legacy—piece by piece. They lost the company. Then the house. Then the name. And now... her. She was the last thing left to take. “Alina Hayes,” the priest’s voice echoed gently, “do you take Damien Wolfe to be your lawfully wedded husband?” She looked up at Damien. He was staring at her with a cold intensity. Confident. Dominant. Triumphant. She knew then that he didn’t love her. He didn’t even like her. He wanted obedience. Submission. Control. But she wasn’t the girl he thought she was. Her heart might be bleeding but it still burned with fire. “I do,” she said, the words slicing her tongue like glass. Damien slid the heavy gold ring onto her finger. A symbol of ownership, not love. He leaned in. His breath was warm against her ear. “Smart girl,” he whispered. “I knew you’d see reason.” She didn’t reply. If she opened her mouth, she didn’t know whether she would scream or sob. His lips rubbing against her's gently, cold, formal. Not a kiss of love. A stamp of ownership. The guests clapped. Some even wiped away tears. They had no idea. To them, it was a fairytale. To her, it was a funeral. She sighed bitterly. “If only they knew. This isn’t a wedding. It’s a prison.” She and Damien walked down the aisle, husband and wife. Her posture was perfect. Her chin high. Her smile practiced. But inside, she was dying. She saw her mother in the front row, smiling through trembling lips. Their eyes met. Catherine’s guilt was undeniable. It was written all over her face. She had sold her daughter to save their name. And maybe she was right. But survival... shouldn’t feel like surrender. --- The limousine waited outside like a chariot from hell. Damien opened the door, putting on the act of a gentleman. “After you, my lovely wife,” he said. Alina climbed in without looking at him. He joined her seconds later. Silence filled the car like fog. “Still pretending you hate me?” he asked casually, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. “There’s nothing to pretend about,” she said, her voice cold and raw. He smirked. “Good. I like it when my wife has bite.” “I’m not your wife,” she snapped. “I’m your hostage in a designer dress.” He leaned back, amused. “Call it what you want. But we’re married now. And if you’re smart, you’ll learn to play your role.” She turned away, staring out the window. The city blurred past like memories she no longer owned. Somewhere in that city was the girl who once believed in love. Who dreamed of happy endings. But that girl was dead. Damien Wolfe had killed her. But what he didn’t know was… Alina Hayes had buried people before. And one day—she would bury the memory of this wedding too.