MARRIED TO MY ENEMY SON

Amara’s POV Rain tapped softly against the glass windows of the towering Moretti building, streaks like tears I refused to shed. My fingers trembled as I clutched my soaked handbag, the letter with the debt folded inside like a curse. I never imagined I’d be walking into the heart of my enemy’s empire. But desperation had stripped me of pride. My brother’s future depended on this. “Miss Carter?” A woman in a sleek black suit appeared. “Mr. De Luca will see you now.” I stood and smoothed my wrinkled blouse. Following her down a corridor so polished I saw my reflection in the floor, the walls whispered power, money, control. The doors opened into a cavernous office glass walls, black marble floors, and a man standing by the window with his back to me. Lorenzo De Luca . He turned slowly. Dark hair, sharp jawline, eyes like ice. No smile. “You’re braver than I expected,” his voice low and smooth. I met his gaze with what little strength I had left. “I’m not here to beg. Just to ask for time. My father may have run, but my brother and I aren’t responsible for his debts.” His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer. “Your father embezzled over ten million. Do you know how many lives he destroyed?” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I know. But Jayden’s only fifteen. Let me work off the debt” He cut me off, sliding a sheet of paper across the desk. “A contract?” “A marriage contract.” I blinked. “Excuse me?” “You marry me. Publicly, we’ll be the perfect couple. Privately, you do what I ask. In return, I clear the debt. And your brother gets a full scholarship to any school he chooses.” My breath caught. “Why would you want this?” He leaned in, voice low. “Because your father humiliated my family. I want him to know his daughter belongs to the Morettis now.” His words stung, but I stood firm. “So you want to own me.” “No,” he said. “I want control. You’ll be free in three years. Debt gone. Brother safe. Think of it as a contract, not a love story.” I laughed bitterly. “Trust me, I’m not looking for love.” He handed me a pen. “Then we understand each other.” My hand shook as I took it. Signing felt like erasing part of myself. But one thought pushed through: Do this for Jayden. Just survive. When I handed the paper back, Lorenzo nodded once. “Congratulations, Mrs. De Luca The silence that followed was louder than anything Lorenzo had said. I stared at the paper I’d just signed, feeling like I had just locked myself in a cage. "Your things will be moved to the De Luca estate this evening," Lorenzo said, already returning to his desk like it was just another transaction. "I haven’t packed," I said quietly. "You won’t need much. My staff will handle it. We have a public dinner in three days. We’ll need to appear affectionate." I stiffened. "What does affectionate mean to you?" He looked up, eyes unreadable. "Smiles. Hand-holding. The illusion of devotion. Can you manage that?" Jayden’s face flashed in my mind. His trust. His smile. His future. I couldn’t afford to hesitate. "I can manage." "You’ll move in tonight." I turned to leave, then paused at the door. "Why me? You could’ve hurt my father in a hundred other ways. Why this?" He didn’t even look at me. "Because I don’t leave loose ends." That evening, a black car came to collect my things. Jayden watched in silence as suited men packed up our tiny apartment. "Are we moving somewhere better?" he asked, eyes bright. "In a way," I said. "Somewhere safer." He hugged me tight. I didn’t let him see the tears in my eyes as the car pulled away. The De Luca estate was huge. Cold. Beautiful in a distant, intimidating way. High gates. Cameras everywhere. Marble floors that echoed with every step. I was shown to a large guest room. "Mr. De Luca prefers to keep things formal," the housekeeper said politely. Of course he did. I stood by the window, watching the garden below. Nothing felt familiar. Not the air, not the silence, not the walls. Later that night, I heard footsteps behind me. "You settled?" Lorenzo's voice was calm. "Define settled." A pause. "The media will find out soon. You’ll need to be ready." "For what?" "Our first appearance. Smiling. Wearing the ring." "You mean pretending to be your wife." "You are my wife." I turned. "You really think this is justice? Forcing me into your house and name?" "You had a choice. You signed." "You think I’ll get used to this?" "You’ll learn how to pretend." He left after that. No explanation. No warmth. Just the sound of the door clicking shut. I stood in the center of the unfamiliar room and wrapped my arms around myself. I didn’t cry. Not tonight