Tied to my enemy

The Armand mansion glimmered beneath the pale light of dusk, its marble walls reflecting the last gold of the evening. From the outside, it looked like a dream — the kind of home little girls saw in fairytales. Inside, it was a kingdom built on silence and expectation. Celeste Armand stood before the long mirror in her bedroom, her reflection flawless — porcelain skin, champagne-blonde hair tumbling down her shoulders, eyes the shade of cold sapphire. To anyone else, she looked like perfection wrapped in silk. But her lips were trembling. Downstairs, the faint sound of classical music and distant laughter drifted through the halls — her stepmother’s laughter. Seraphine Armand only laughed when she had control of something, or someone. Celeste’s heart sank. Something was wrong. She could feel it in her bones. The knock came — sharp, precise, and soft all at once. “Miss Celeste,” came the maid’s voice. “Your father requests your presence in the drawing room.” Her father requested. That word always meant ordered. Celeste smoothed her dress and took a deep breath, walking down the grand staircase that spiraled like a ribbon through the mansion. Chandeliers sparkled above her, and the scent of roses filled the air. Every step echoed like the ticking of a clock counting down to something she couldn’t stop. When she entered the drawing room, her father, Augustus Armand was seated beside Seraphine. He looked tired, older than usual, his silver hair neatly combed, his expression unreadable. Seraphine, dressed in a crimson gown, smiled like a cat who had already eaten the canary. And then Celeste saw him. Lysander Vale. He stood by the window, hands in his pockets, dressed in a charcoal suit that looked too perfect for this room. His dark hair was slicked back, his grey eyes calm and cruel all at once. Every muscle in Celeste’s body froze. “What is he doing here?” she demanded, turning to her father. Augustus exhaled. “Celeste, please. Sit down.” “No, tell me what he’s doing here.” Lysander turned, his gaze meeting hers — cold steel against blue fire. “Nice to see you too, Princess.” Her jaw clenched. “Don’t call me that.” “I thought it was your favorite title.” “Enough,” Augustus snapped, his voice filling the room. “Both of you.” Celeste’s pulse raced. Her mind was already remembering everything — the business rivalry between the Armand Group and Vale Industries, the lawsuits, the scandals, the endless articles in Velencia Financial Weekly. Lysander Vale had tried to buy out her father’s company once. He’d nearly succeeded. He’d humiliated them at a charity gala. He was her enemy. Her father rose to his feet. “Celeste, there is no easy way to say this.” Seraphine’s smile widened. “You and Lysander are to be married.” The room spun. For a moment, Celeste thought she hadn’t heard right. “What?” “It’s an arrangement,” Augustus said, voice steady but tired. “A merger through marriage. Our companies will join, our families will join.” Celeste laughed a short, sharp, disbelieving sound. “You can’t be serious.” “Do I look like I’m joking?” She looked from her father to Lysander. He hadn’t moved an inch. His expression was unreadable, his eyes a storm she couldn’t read. “You expect me to marry him?” she asked, pointing toward Lysander. “After everything he’s done?” Lysander’s lips curved faintly. “You say that like it’s an insult.” She shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “This is insane.” Augustus sighed. “You will do this, Celeste. You will save the Armand name. This alliance will protect our empire.” “You mean your empire,” she said bitterly. “Not mine.” “Enough,” Seraphine cut in, her tone icy. “You will not embarrass your father like this. Lysander has agreed to terms that benefit both sides. This is an opportunity.” Celeste turned back to her father. “You’re selling me off like one of your companies.” He looked away. “I am saving what’s left of our legacy.” Her chest felt tight with anger and betrayal coiling like a serpent inside her. She turned to Lysander, fury burning behind her eyes. “Did you agree to this?” He shrugged slightly. “It’s business.” “Business,” she repeated. “You ruin my father’s company, then marry me to finish the job?” His jaw tightened. “You think too small, Celeste. I don’t destroy things I can own.” The silence that followed was suffocating. Seraphine sipped her wine with quiet satisfaction. Celeste took a step back, shaking her head. “No. I won’t do it. I won’t marry him.” “You will,” Augustus said quietly. “Or you’ll be cut off completely no inheritance or access to the company. Nothing.” The words hit harder than a slap. Celeste’s voice cracked. “You’d really do that?” He didn’t answer. Lysander finally spoke, his tone low, deliberate. “You don’t have to like me, Celeste. But you’ll be my wife. And you’ll thank me one day for keeping your family name from collapsing.” “Keep your arrogance to yourself,” she snapped. “You might have everyone fooled, but I see you for what you are, a vulture in a suit.” He tilted his head slightly. “Then you’ll make a fine match. You’ve got claws of your own.” Her fingers curled into fists. “Enough!” Augustus barked again. “The engagement will be announced tomorrow at the press gala. You will both attend end of discussion.” Celeste’s throat ached as she looked at her father, realizing this wasn’t just business — it was betrayal. Lysander turned to leave, brushing past her. His cologne was expensive, sharp, and cold. He stopped at the door. “See you tomorrow, fiancée.” The door clicked shut behind him. Celeste stood in silence, her heart pounding, her entire world collapsing beneath the weight of her father’s choices. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft — dangerous. “If this is what you want, Father, fine. I’ll marry him.” Augustus looked up, surprised. “You will?” “Yes,” she said, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “But I’ll make sure he regrets every second of it.” Then she turned and walked out of the room her heels echoing through the marble halls, each step a promise of war. Later That Night Rain lashed against her window, streaking down the glass like tears she refused to shed. Celeste sat by her desk, staring at the engagement contract lying open before her. Two signatures with one missing. Her phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number. Unknown: Don’t worry, Princess. I’ll make this marriage worth your while. Her pulse jumped. She didn’t need to ask who it was. Celeste: Go to hell, Lysander. Lysander: You’ll be there too standing beside me in white. She hurled her phone onto the bed, breathing hard. The rain grew heavier, and somewhere deep inside, the first spark of hatred or something dangerously close to desire began to burn.