Married To My Father's Enemy

Chapter Six: The Unfinished Letter

The days that followed Eleanor Kane’s visit were nothing short of suffocating.

Every corner of the mansion seemed to hum with quiet judgment. The staff, who once nodded politely at Aisha, now cast wary, knowing glances. She felt their eyes on her back like invisible daggers, their whispers floating through the hallways like ghosts.

But the most deafening silence came from Xavier.

He avoided her.

Not in a dramatic, storming-out kind of way — no, Xavier Kane was far too composed for that. Instead, he disappeared into his offices, held endless meetings, and came home long after midnight. If Aisha caught a glimpse of him at all, it was brief and fleeting. A ghost in his own house.

And for some reason, it hurt.

She hadn’t expected it to.

She was supposed to hate him. Resent him. Remind herself every day that this was a deal, a transaction.

Yet with each passing night, the emptiness of the mansion pressed heavier on her chest.

Until she found the study.

It happened by accident.

Aisha had been trying to find the kitchen late one night when she took a wrong turn and ended up in front of a heavy oak door she hadn’t noticed before.

Curiosity got the better of her.

The room inside was nothing like the cold, modern luxury of the rest of the house. It was older, cozier — filled with shelves lined with books, old photographs, and a huge, dark wooden desk at its center.

And on that desk lay a single, unsealed letter.

Her fingers hovered over it, hesitating.

But the name at the top made her stomach drop.

“To my son, Xavier.”

It was her father’s handwriting.

Aisha’s pulse pounded in her ears as she picked it up, the paper trembling slightly in her hands. The letter was dated five years ago. Long before her marriage. Long before the debt.

Her heart raced as she read:

> “Xavier,

I know I don’t deserve forgiveness. And I won’t ask for it. But what happened all those years ago… it wasn’t what you believe. Your sister’s death wasn’t my intention. It was a mistake. A terrible, irreversible mistake. And I’ve carried that weight every day since.

I should have faced you long ago. I should have told you the truth about that night. About what your father did. And what I had to do to survive.

If you ever read this, know that I regret it. I regret all of it.”

Aisha’s fingers gripped the edges of the paper, her head spinning.

His sister.

Xavier’s coldness, his hatred for her father — it wasn’t about business. It was about blood. About a tragedy neither of them had spoken of.

And somehow… her father was at the center of it.

She didn’t realize Xavier was behind her until his voice shattered the silence.

“What the hell are you doing in here?”

Aisha spun around, the letter clutched tightly in her hand.

“I—I wasn’t—” she stammered.

His face was stone, his eyes storm-dark.

“Put it down.”

Aisha’s chest tightened.

“I had no idea,” she whispered. “About your sister.”

Xavier’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek.

“That’s none of your business.”

“But it is, isn’t it?” she shot back, her voice trembling but fierce. “You married me because of him. Because of what happened to her.”

His expression twisted into something she couldn’t name — rage, grief, maybe even shame.

“You know nothing about it,” he hissed.

“Then tell me!” Aisha cried, stepping closer. “Stop hiding behind these walls and your money and your deals. You think you’re the only one who’s lost someone? You think you’re the only person carrying pain?”

The words hung in the air between them, thick and heavy.

For a moment, Xavier looked like he might actually answer.

But then, just as quickly, the mask slid back into place.

“I told you once, Aisha,” he said coldly. “This marriage is a business deal. Nothing more. Stay out of my past.”

He snatched the letter from her hands and tore it in half, the pieces fluttering to the desk.

And then, without another word, he walked out, leaving her standing in the darkened study, her heart pounding, her throat tight.

---

Later That Night

Aisha lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing.

She could’ve let it go. She could’ve pretended she hadn’t read that letter. Could’ve stayed out of Xavier’s past like he demanded.

But she couldn’t.

Because for the first time since this nightmare marriage began, she saw Xavier not as the cold, ruthless billionaire everyone feared — but as a broken man, drowning in a grief no one had helped him carry.

And maybe, just maybe… she wasn’t as indifferent to him as she wanted to believe.