Married to the enemy

I was never supposed to wear white. Not for him. Not for a man who looked at me like I was a debt to be paid, not a bride to be loved. But there I stood—wrapped in silk, drowning in lace, the veil over my face like a mask I couldn’t remove. Cameras flashed. Guests whispered. Somewhere near the altar, a string quartet played a haunting version of the wedding march. And Killian Vale waited for me. Tall. Perfectly still. Dressed in black like he was attending a funeral. Mine, probably. I wanted to run. God, I wanted to run. But my little brother’s face flashed through my mind—Kai’s smile, Kai’s laughter, Kai clinging to me when the world fell apart. I couldn’t run. Not when he was the reason I said yes. My heels clicked against the marble floor as I walked toward the man who had every reason to hate me—and every weapon to destroy me. Killian Vale. CEO. Billionaire. The devil wrapped in Armani. The man my father betrayed. And now… my husband. --- They called it a contract marriage. Six months. Public appearances. A legal union. On paper, it looked like a strategic alliance. In reality, it was revenge. Because three years ago, my father embezzled nearly fifteen million from Killian’s company and vanished. And when the police failed to track him down, Killian turned his fury toward the only thing left of the West family. Me. He could’ve sued me, dragged my name through the mud, or left me to rot in the gutter where the media already dumped me. Instead, he proposed. Six months of marriage. Public loyalty. Private submission. In exchange, my family’s debt would be erased. My little brother would be protected. And I’d be… his. I didn’t get to say no. --- I reached the altar with my heart pounding in my chest. Killian didn’t extend his hand. He didn’t smile. He didn’t even blink. “Do you, Ivy West, take Killian Vale to be your lawfully wedded husband…” I swallowed hard, hands trembling around the bouquet. Say it. Say the words. “I do.” Killian’s voice followed mine, low and cold. “I do.” When the officiant announced us as husband and wife, Killian leaned forward—not to kiss me—but to whisper in my ear: “You’re not a bride, Ivy. You’re a receipt.” --- The reception was a blur. I smiled for photos. Laughed at jokes I didn’t hear. Toasted with champagne that turned sour in my mouth. Strangers congratulated me. Women envied me. They didn’t know the truth. They didn’t know I’d sold my soul to a man who saw me as collateral. Killian stayed near but never close. He moved like a shadow through the room—greeting business partners, shaking hands with people who feared him more than they liked him. And when our eyes met across the ballroom, I felt it again: That chill. That silence. That sense that I’d just married a loaded gun with no safety. --- By the time we arrived at his penthouse, I could barely breathe. It was beautiful. Cold. Immaculate. Like him. The living room stretched beneath vaulted ceilings, with floor-to-ceiling windows that stared out over the sleeping city. Everything gleamed—marble floors, glass furniture, metallic accents. Not a speck of warmth anywhere. “This is home,” he said simply, tossing his jacket over a chair. I stood at the doorway like a guest in someone else’s life. “It looks… expensive.” He looked over his shoulder. “It was.” I followed him up a sweeping staircase, my heels clicking against polished stone. At the end of the hall was a bedroom the size of my old apartment. A California king bed sat against the far wall, wrapped in charcoal sheets. Killian turned to me, eyes unreadable. “You can sleep on the left.” My spine stiffened. “So that’s it? You just—what? Give orders and expect me to obey?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he walked to the closet, tugged off his tie, and began unbuttoning his shirt like I wasn’t even there. I looked away, cheeks burning. “I’m not your pet, Killian.” “No,” he said, voice sharp. “You’re my payment.” I flinched. He walked past me then, brushing my shoulder as he headed for the bathroom. “Don’t worry. I don’t plan to touch you. I’m not interested in broken things.” The door shut behind him, leaving me alone in a room that wasn’t mine, in a marriage that wasn’t real. --- I stood in front of the mirror and stared at the girl in the wedding dress. I barely recognized her. I used to dream of love. Of soft kisses, shared secrets, someone who saw me as more than just a name. That dream died the moment Killian put a ring on my finger without ever looking me in the eyes. I pulled off the veil. Then the jewelry. The shoes. One by one, I peeled away the pieces of the lie. Until all that was left was Ivy. The girl who gave up everything to keep her brother safe. I reached into my purse for my phone and froze. There, taped to the mirror with surgical precision, was a photograph. My hands went ice cold. It was a picture of Kai. Smiling. Holding a soccer ball. Standing in front of our old apartment. On the back, scrawled in bold black ink: > “One wrong move, and he’s next" My knees buckled. Not because I was shocked Killian would threaten me. But because I wasn’t sure anymore if he was the one who left the message. And if it wasn’t him— Then someone else was watching. Someone who knew