lMarried to My Enemy's Son

​The rain poured relentlessly over the city, streaking the dark windows of the Moretti estate in jagged lines. Inside, the air was suffocatingly quiet. I stared at the gold band resting on my finger—a heavy, glittering shackle that sealed my fate. At just nineteen years old, my life as Elena Hart was over; I was now the forced bride of the man who destroyed my family. ​The heavy oak doors clicked open, and Damien Moretti walked into the room. ​He didn't look at me. Tall, commanding, and wrapped in a dark tailored suit, his presence alone seemed to drop the room's temperature by ten degrees. He unbuttoned his jacket, tossing it onto a leather armchair before finally turning his cold, piercing gaze toward me. ​"Let's get one thing clear, Elena," Damien said, his voice flat and entirely uninterested. He stepped closer, stopping just far enough away to maintain an invisible wall between us. "This marriage is a contract to save your father from total ruin—nothing more. There will be no love between us. No trust. No feelings." ​I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing myself to look him dead in the eye despite the fear threatening to break my posture. "I didn't expect any, Mr. Moretti." ​A ghost of a smirk played on his lips, but his eyes remained entirely guarded, haunted by a dark shadow he quickly hid away. "Good. Your room is down the hall. Stay out of my way, and we won't have a problem."