THE ENEMY I MARRIED

CHAPTER THREE: THE INTERVIEW

Evelyn's POV

The journalist from the Wall Street Journal was named Patricia, and she smiled like a friend while her eyes calculated exactly how to destroy you.

We met her at a restaurant Julian chose. He held my hand walking in, grip firm enough to remind me this was theater.

I smiled like my life depended on it.

Patricia ordered coffee and pulled out a recorder. "Thank you both for this interview. Our readers are fascinated by your relationship. Two of the biggest names in tech, formerly rivals, now partners."

"We prefer collaborators over rivals," Julian said smoothly. His thumb traced circles on my palm, and I fought the urge to pull away. "Competition drives innovation, but partnership creates something greater."

"How romantic." Patricia's smile sharpened. "Tell me, when did rivalry become romance?"

This was the question we prepared for. I took a breath and delivered my lines.

"About two years ago at a conference in San Francisco. Julian gave a keynote on emerging markets. I challenged one of his points during the question session."

Julian picked up the story. "She was brilliant. Most people are afraid to disagree with me publicly. Evelyn looked me in the eye and told me I was wrong."

"Were you wrong?" Patricia asked.

"Completely, but I was impressed enough to ask her to dinner that night."

It was a good story because it held enough truth to sell. We did meet at a conference. I did challenge his keynote.

But instead of asking me to dinner, Julian bought shares in my company the next day and started his campaign to ruin me.

Patricia scribbled notes. "And the relationship developed from there?"

"Slowly," I said. "We both had companies to run. Revealing the relationship too soon would have created complications."

"Complications like direct competition?"

"Exactly." Julian squeezed my hand. Warning or encouragement, I couldn’t betell. "But eventually we realized what we were building together mattered more than what we were building separately."

"Hence the merger."

"Hence the marriage," Julian corrected. "The merger is business. The marriage is personal."

Patricia leaned forward. "Some people say this marriage is just a business arrangement.”

"Some people always look for cynical explanations," I said, holding her gaze. "The truth is simpler…I love him."

The lie tasted like poison, but I didn’t blink.

Julian lifted my hand and kissed it. The gesture looked natural, affectionate. Only I felt how his fingers tightened just enough to hurt.

"We love each other," he said. "Everything else is details."

The interview dragged on for another hour. Patricia asked about wedding plans, business strategies, how we balanced two massive companies.

Julian answered most questions while I nodded and played supportive partner.

When it finally ended, I felt exhausted.

In the car back to the penthouse, Julian dropped my hand like it burned.

"You hesitated twice," he said. "When she asked about the engagement. When she asked about living together. Patricia noticed."

"I'm not trained to lie to journalists."

"Then train yourself. We have twelve more interviews before the wedding."

I looked out the window. "Julian, why are you doing this? You have control of the company. Why force me through this charade?"

He was quiet for a long moment. Then spoke with a softer voice. "Because watching you sign that contract wasn’t enough. I need you to understand what it feels like to lose everything slowly. To smile while dying inside. My father felt that for months before he killed himself. Now you get to feel it too."

"Your father's death wasn’t my fault."

"Your father destroyed mine."

"You don’t know that for certain."

Julian turned to me, something dangerous in his eyes. "I know exactly what your father did. I have spent twenty years collecting evidence: documents, emails, testimony from people who watched Vincent Hartwell systematically destroy my father's company while pretending to be his friend."

"My father wasn't a liar."

"Everyone is a liar, Evelyn. Even you."

The words hit harder than they should have, because he was right.

I was lying every day about NexusTech, about Eden Vale, about everything.

Back at the penthouse, I went straight to my room and locked the door.

My phone had seventeen missed calls. Three from Valerie. Two from Solomon. Twelve from unknown numbers.

I called Valerie first.

"How did it go?" she asked immediately.

"Like slow torture while smiling for cameras."

"That bad?"

"Worse. Julian is too good at this. He makes the lies sound real."

"Maybe he has practice," Valerie said darkly. "Listen, I did some digging into those license lawsuits. Julian's lawyers are using a loophole, but it's shaky. If we find your father's original development notes, we might prove prior art and kill the claims."

"My father's notes were destroyed in the office fire."

"All of them?"

I thought about the encrypted files on my father's old computer. The ones I never managed to open.

"Maybe not all," I admitted.

"Then find them, Evelyn. Find anything we can use to fight back."

After we hung up, I called Solomon.

"The hacking attempts are getting worse," he said without greeting. "Three more tries in six hours. Different locations, different attack methods. Someone really wants into NexusTech's systems."

"Can they get in?"

"Eventually? Probably. I'm good, but whoever this is has resources I can’t match alone."

"What do you need?"

"Time or a miracle."

I didn’t have any of those things.

That night I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about my father's encrypted files, about the evidence Julian claimed to have, about the blackmail photo hanging over my head.

At two AM, I gave up and went downstairs for water.

Julian was already in the kitchen, sitting in the dark with whiskey.

"Can't sleep either?" he asked.

I almost went back upstairs, but exhaustion and curiosity stopped me.

"Nope."

Julian poured a second glass and slid it across the counter. "Sit. If we are both awake, we might as well be miserable together."

I sat. The whiskey burned going down, but the warmth helped.

"Do you dream about him?" I asked quietly. "Your father?"

Julian's expression went carefully blank. "Every night."

"What do you dream?"

"Finding him; the gun; blood on the walls." His voice was flat, emotionless from years of practice. "I was eleven, too young to understand why. Old enough to know I should have stopped him somehow."

"It wasn’t your fault."

"How would you know?"

"Because children cannot be responsible for their parents' choices."

Julian laughed bitterly. "Is that what you tell yourself about your father? That his choices aren’t your responsibility?"

"My father didn’t choose to die. Someone killed him."

Julian went very still. "What?"

I had not meant to say that. The words slipped out, loosened by whiskey and exhaustion.

"My father's car accident was not an accident," I said. "The mechanic who checked the wreckage told me someone cut the brake lines."

"Did you tell police?"

"They didn’t believe me. They said I was grieving and looking for someone to blame."

Julian was quiet. "If your father was murdered, someone wanted him dead. Who?"

"I don't know. Someone he crossed in business. The list was long."

"Was my father on that list?"

I looked at Julian across the dark kitchen. "No. Your father was already gone before mine knew there was a problem. Whatever happened between them, it wasn’t murder."

"Then what was it?"

"I don't know. But I have encrypted files I never opened. They might have answers."

Julian leaned forward. "Show me."

"Why would I?"

"Because if someone killed your father and destroyed mine, maybe we are hunting the same enemy."

It was a trap. Julian wanted my father's files to use in the discovery lawsuits.

But what if he was right? What if there was a connection?

"I’ll think about it," I said.

"Don't think too long. Whoever sent that blackmail photo will not wait forever."

I froze. "How do you know about the photo?"

Julian smiled without warmth. "You think I don’t monitor your communications? I have access to your phone, your email, everything. I saw the messages this morning."

Rage flooded through me. "You’re spying on me?"

"I'm protecting my investment. The contract gives me access to your financial records. That includes electronic devices."

"That contract didn't give you permission to invade my privacy."

"Actually it did. Page thirty-two, clause seventeen. You should have read more carefully before signing."

I stood, hands shaking. "You are a monster."

"Yeah” he responded mockingly. But I’m your monster now." Julian stood too, and suddenly we were too close. I could see gold flecks in his dark eyes. "And if someone is blackmailing you with your secret identity, we have bigger problems than my monitoring your phone."

"What do you mean, secret identity?"

"Eden Vale." He said the name softly, watching my reaction. "The mysterious founder of NexusTech. The competitor stealing my clients for eighteen months. You really think I didn't notice the pattern?"

My heart stopped. He knew about NexusTech.

"When?" I whispered.

"Two weeks ago. I followed and saw you enter and leave the NexusTech building four hours later."

"Then why didn't you expose me?"

"Because having you vulnerable makes you controllable." Julian stepped closer. "I’m playing a longer game than you understand, Evelyn. Right now I want you to trust me enough to show me your father's files. Tomorrow we will see what I want then."

He walked away, leaving me alone in the dark kitchen with the taste of whiskey and betrayal.

I went back to my room and locked the door, but locks meant nothing when your enemy already held all the keys.

My phone buzzed. The unknown number.

"Julian knows about Eden Vale. But does he know the real reason your father died? Show him the files, Evelyn. Before I do."

I stared at the message until the screen went dark.

Whoever was blackmailing me wanted me to trust Julian.

Which meant trusting him was probably the worst mistake I could make.

But if I don’t, and someone else revealed my secrets first, I’d lose everything anyway.

I pulled out my father's old laptop and looked at the encrypted files I had never been able to open.

Maybe it was time to find out what my father died protecting.

And maybe Julian Cross was not my real enemy after all.