MARRIED TO MY ENEMY

MR. BRAD

The warehouse smelled like dust and rust. Like old metal and things left to rot for too long.

Nia locked the door behind us and turned on one lamp. It flickered twice before it stayed on, throwing a weak circle of yellow light across the concrete floor. No windows and cameras. Just a metal table and three chairs that didn’t match.

Daniel didn’t sit. Neither did I. Not until she spoke. “You got my letter,” she said. Her voice was calm, too calm for a place like this.

“You said you know who caused it,” Daniel answered. His voice was flat. The way he sounded in boardrooms when he was about to fire someone. Nia pulled out a chair and sat. She motioned for us to do the same. We didn’t.

“My name is Nia Jax,” she said. “I was your father's secretary. Back when they were still friends.” That word hit me. All I ever heard growing up was about enemies and traitors, the idea that my father and Daniel’s father had ever laughed together felt like a lie.

She slid a faded yearbook photo across the table. The corners were soft, like she’d held it a hundred times.

Three boys. 17 years old. Arms around each other’s shoulders with big stupid smiles in school uniforms back at King's College, 1998. “Left is your father, Mr. Nicholas,” Nia said, tapping the first boy. He had my father’s eyes. "Middle is Mr. Andrew."

Her finger moved. “And this one,” she stopped on the third, "Mr. Bradley Martyn, everyone called him Brad.”

I stared at him. He was leaning back, head tilted, like he was laughing. But his eyes weren’t laughing. They were watching the camera. Watching the other two. He had the same smirk Daniel gets when he’s angry. The same way of holding his jaw.

“What about him?” I asked. “Brad and your father were inseparable,” Nia said. “Since Form 1, they have built a business selling snacks in school. They planned to take over Lagos. Until senior year. That’s when Brad started to notice something.” She paused. “They didn’t need him.”

Daniel frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean Nicholas and Andrew had ideas and plans. They had each other. Brad had... nothing. His parents couldn’t pay fees. He was on scholarship. And he envied it. The loyalty. The trust.” Nia’s voice went hard. “So in college he decided if he couldn’t have that, no one could.”

She opened a folder on the table. Bank statements with old emails printed on yellow paper. A photo of a small office with Nicholas & Andrew Imports painted on the glass. “2003,” Nia said. “Your fathers started their first real company together. Brad was the third partner. Silent. He handled the money because he was good with figures.”

“And then?” I asked. My voice sounded small. “And then he emptied the accounts,” Nia said. “Forty million naira. Over six months. Small transfers. So they wouldn’t notice. He moved it to accounts in Ghana, Dubai, and London. All in his name.” She pulled out two printouts and slid them to us.

1: I've been covering your losses. Don’t tell Brad. He’s already stressed about the numbers.

2: If you mention this to anyone, the deal is off. Including Brad. I’ll handle it.

Both fake. Both perfect. The signatures were exact. The timestamps matched. “He made them believe the other one betrayed them,” Nia said quietly. By the time they figured out the money was gone, the company was already dead. The press called it a fallout between best friends while Brad disappeared to London that same week.”

The room was quiet. Daniel picked up the photo. His thumb brushed over his father’s face. “So it wasn’t them. It was never them.”

“No,” Nia said. “It was Brad. He’s been watching from the shadows for 20 years. Waiting.” I felt sick. “Waiting for what?”

“For this.” She looked at both of us. “For you.” My stomach dropped. “Us?”

“Brad reached out to both your fathers six months ago,” Nia said. “Out of nowhere. Said he wanted to ‘make things right.’ Offered to ‘fix’ the family legacy. Said the only way to save the business and their names was to merge through marriage.” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “He told them it would heal the wound. What it really does is give him control again. Of both families through you.”

“Brad wants a show. He wants you two to either destroy each other publicly and prove the families can’t work together... or fall in love and prove his plan ‘worked.’ Either way, he wins. He gets to say he was the one who fixed what he broke.” I gripped the edge of the table. The metal was cold under my fingers. “Where is he now?”

“Here,” Nia said. “In Lagos. He’s been calling the shots from behind your fathers. He’s on the board of both companies now. ‘Senior Consultant.’ He’s the one who sent you the letter. The one who had been watching since the engagement was announced.” Daniel stopped pacing. “How do you know all this?”

“Because I was the one who found the forged emails 20 years ago, while working as their secretary,” Nia said. “I was 22. Fresh out of uni. I noticed the IP addresses didn’t match. I printed everything and Brad fired me the next day before I could tell anyone. He’s been paying me hush money ever since.” She looked at me. “Until now.”

“Why now?” I whispered. “Why risk it?”

“Because I’m tired,” Nia said simply. “I’m 42. I’ve watched two good men ruin their lives and their kids' lives because of a lie. And I’m tired of watching kids pay for a fight that was never theirs.” Daniel sat back down. He looked at me. Not like the girl he was forced to marry. As someone else.

“So Mr. Brad caused the enmity,” he said slowly. “Not our fathers. Not us?” Nia nodded. “Brad did, and he’s been feeding it for two decades.”

“And if you want to end it,” she continued, “you have to expose him. Publicly together. At the press conference tomorrow.”

“11a.m,” I said. Remembering the gold invite on my desk. “At Okafor's Tower. ‘Nicholas-Andrew Merger Announcement."

“Yes. Brad will be there. He always is. Front row. He likes to watch his work.” Nia stood and walked to the door. She paused with her hand on the handle. “One more thing,” she said before leaving. “He knows you’re here since you got my first text at 2:14a.m.”

My blood went cold. Daniel’s hand found mine under the table. Not for the cameras. Not by the rules. Just because. His fingers were warm. Steady.

Nia opened the door. Cold air came in with the smell of rain and exhaust. “Be careful tomorrow,” she said. “Brad doesn’t like losing twice. And he hates being exposed.”

Then she was gone. The door clicked shut behind her. We sat there for a long time. The photos of the three boys on the table.

Two friends. And the one who ruined them. I picked them up, 1998. They looked so young. So sure the world was theirs.

“What do you think happened to them?” I asked quietly. “After Brad left?” Daniel didn’t answer right away. “I think my dad blamed yours. And your dad blamed mine. And both of them were too proud to ask questions. Too hurt to call each other.”

“That’s what Brad wanted,” I said. “Pride is easier than doubt.” Finally, Daniel spoke. “Amara.”

“What?”

“We’re not collateral,” he said. “We’re the ending.” The words settled over me, heavy and true. I nodded. My heart was racing. Not from fear but from purpose. Tomorrow at 11a.m. A room full of press. Both our fathers. And Mr. Brad. We got up to leave. The warehouse felt smaller now, like the truth had taken up space.

As we reached the door, my phone buzzed. Unknown number. "So you met Nia. Cute. See you tomorrow, kids. Try not to cry too much. - B"

Daniel saw it over my shoulder. His jaw clenched. We got in the car. The drive home was quiet, but it wasn’t the same quiet as before.