Married to My Father’s Enemy

The first time Maysa Vale heard that she was going to marry Zane Blackwood, her stepmother was wearing her mother’s necklace. The second time, her father told her it was an order. The third time, she stopped asking whether anyone in the room cared what she wanted. They didn’t. Rain battered the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Vale family mansion, turning the gardens of Aurelis into a blur of silver and black. Beyond the gates, the capital of Valedria glittered beneath the evening sky, its towering skyscrapers and luxury hotels shining like jewels. Inside the mansion, however, Maysa’s world was falling apart. “Say something, Maysa.” Her stepmother’s voice cut through the silence. Vivienne Vale sat on the cream-colored sofa with her legs crossed, looking every inch the elegant wife of one of Valedria’s most powerful businessmen. Her champagne-colored dress was immaculate, her makeup flawless, and the diamond bracelet around her wrist probably cost more than most people’s annual salaries. She looked pleased. That was what bothered Maysa most. Her father stood beside the fireplace, holding a document folder. He had not looked directly at her since announcing the engagement. Maysa glanced at the folder. Then at him. “You’re asking me to marry a man I’ve never met.” “You’re marrying into one of the most powerful families in Valedria,” her father replied. “You should be grateful.” “Grateful?” The word escaped her before she could stop it. Her father finally raised his eyes. Maysa had learned to recognize that expression years ago. It was the look he wore whenever she reminded him that she was his daughter, too. A mixture of irritation and disappointment. As though her existence were an inconvenience he had never quite learned to manage. “Zane Blackwood is thirty-two,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “He owns Blackwood International, controls half the private investment market in this country, and has a reputation for destroying anyone who stands in his way.” Vivienne lifted her champagne glass. “Then perhaps you should be grateful he agreed to marry you.” Maysa turned toward her. “Did I ask you?” The room went still. Vivienne’s smile vanished. “Maysa,” her father warned. “What?” Maysa asked. “You wanted me to say something. I’m saying it.” Her stepsister, Celeste, sat near the staircase, pretending to examine her manicure. She had been unusually quiet throughout the conversation. Maysa knew that silence. Celeste only became quiet when she was enjoying something she didn’t want to admit. “Oh, don’t be dramatic,” Vivienne said, recovering her composure. “This marriage is an extraordinary opportunity. You will have security, wealth, and a respectable position in society.” “I already have a surname.” “And yet you have done very little with it.” The words landed precisely where Vivienne intended. Maysa’s fingers tightened around the strap of her handbag. For one brief moment, she thought of her mother. Her mother’s warm hands. Her gentle voice. The way she used to tell Maysa that a person’s worth was never determined by the people who failed to recognize it. But her mother was gone. And the people who remained had made a habit of treating her memory like an inconvenience. Maysa swallowed the ache in her throat. “Why me?” she asked her father. It was the only question that mattered. “Why am I being married off to a man who apparently hates this family?” Her father’s expression changed. It was subtle, but she caught it. Fear. Not fear for her. Fear of something she didn’t understand. “Because the Blackwood family has agreed to an alliance with ours,” he said. “The marriage will secure the agreement.” “Then marry one of your business partners’ daughters to him.” “Enough.” “No, Father. Not this time.” Her voice trembled, but she refused to let it break. “You have spent years telling me that family comes first. So explain why I’m the only person in this family being asked to sacrifice anything.” For a moment, nobody spoke. Then Celeste laughed. It was a soft, pretty sound, the kind that made strangers believe she was incapable of cruelty. “Perhaps because Zane Blackwood specifically requested you.” Maysa looked at her. “What?” Celeste tilted her head. “You heard me.” “Why would he request me?” “That,” Vivienne interrupted, “is not a question you need to ask.” Maysa stared at her stepmother. Something cold began to settle in her stomach. They knew more than they were telling her. Her father placed the folder on the coffee table. “The wedding is in three weeks.” Three weeks. Maysa looked at the folder but didn’t touch it. “And if I refuse?” Her father answered without hesitation. “Then you will no longer be welcome in this house.” For a moment, the only sound was the rain. Maysa had imagined being rejected by her father before. She had imagined arguments, cruel words, even the possibility that he might one day decide she was more trouble than she was worth. But hearing him say it so calmly was different. She searched his face for hesitation. For regret. For anything. There was nothing. “Is that what you want?” she whispered. His jaw tightened. “This is bigger than what I want.” “That isn’t an answer.” “It’s the only one you’re getting.” Maysa looked away before he could see the hurt in her eyes. She would not beg. Not for his love. Not for his approval. And certainly not for a place in a house where she had spent years feeling like an unwanted guest. She picked up the folder. “Fine.” Vivienne blinked. “Fine?” Maysa turned toward the staircase. “I’ll marry him.” Celeste’s expression flickered. It lasted barely a second, but Maysa saw it. Surprise. Then relief. Then something that looked disturbingly like triumph. Maysa filed the expression away. She had survived in this house by paying attention to things other people assumed she was too foolish to notice. She intended to keep doing so. “One condition,” Maysa said. Her father looked up sharply. “You are in no position to make demands.” “Then you shouldn’t be surprised when I make one anyway.” Vivienne rose from the sofa. “Watch your tone.” Maysa ignored her. “If I’m expected to enter this marriage, I want access to my mother’s belongings.” The change in her father’s face was immediate. His hand tightened around the arm of the chair. “No.” One word. Too quick. Too absolute. Maysa stared at him. “My mother’s belongings have been locked away for years. Why?” “They are not relevant to this discussion.” “They’re relevant to me.” “I said no.” The anger in his voice startled even Celeste. Maysa went quiet. Her mother had been dead for years. Most of her possessions had disappeared into storage shortly after the funeral. Whenever Maysa asked about them, her father changed the subject or accused her of refusing to move on. She had eventually stopped asking. Until now. She studied him carefully. “What are you hiding?” Her father stepped toward her. “Go to your room, Maysa.” For a second, she thought about pushing him. About demanding an explanation. Instead, she closed the folder and held it against her chest. “Of course.” She climbed the stairs without looking back. Behind her, Vivienne spoke in a voice that carried just far enough. “At least one of our daughters will finally be useful to this family.” Maysa kept walking. She didn’t cry until she reached her bedroom. Even then, she gave herself only a minute. Then she washed her face, opened the folder, and began reading. If her family had decided to trade her like a bargaining chip, she would at least understand the terms of the transaction. The first page contained the marriage agreement. The second outlined the business alliance. The third contained a photograph. Maysa stopped breathing for a moment. The man in the photograph stood in front of a glass skyscraper, dressed in a black suit that looked tailored specifically to him. His dark hair was neatly styled, his expression unreadable. He wasn’t smiling. He didn’t need to. There was something unnerving about the way he looked at the camera, as though he knew precisely who would eventually see the picture. Zane Blackwood. Maysa had seen him in business magazines and financial news reports. She had heard stories about his ruthlessness, his intelligence, and the speed with which he had dismantled companies belonging to people who crossed him. Rumor claimed he had once forced a business rival to sell a multimillion-dollar company after discovering a single hidden clause in a contract. Another story claimed he never forgave betrayal. Maysa had always assumed those stories were exaggerated. Now she wasn’t so sure. She turned the page. A handwritten note had been attached to the back of the photograph. The ink was dark, the handwriting precise. I want Maysa Vale. No explanation. No signature. Just those four words. Her stomach tightened. She turned the photograph over. At the bottom, someone had written a date. Seven years earlier. Maysa stared at it. Seven years ago, Zane Blackwood had barely begun building the empire that made him one of Valedria’s most feared businessmen. Seven years ago, her mother had died. She read the date again. Then a third time. Her fingers began to tremble. It could have been a coincidence. It probably was. But she had spent years watching her father become strangely silent whenever anyone mentioned her mother’s death. And tonight, when she asked for her mother’s belongings, he had looked afraid. Maysa picked up her phone and called the only person she believed might tell her the truth. Her best friend, Nadia. The call rang twice. “Maysa?” Nadia answered. “What’s wrong?” “I need you to find something out for me.” “What is it?” Maysa looked at Zane’s photograph. “Everything you can find about Zane Blackwood. Especially anything connected to my mother.” There was a pause. It was so brief that Maysa might have missed it if she hadn’t known Nadia for nearly ten years. “Your mother?” Nadia repeated. “Yes.” “Why?” “Because I think my father is hiding something.” Another silence. Then Nadia’s voice softened. “Okay. I’ll look into it.” Maysa closed her eyes. “Thank you.” “Always.” The call ended. For the first time that evening, Maysa felt a little less alone. She didn’t know that, on the other end of the call, Nadia was staring at a message from an unknown number. DID SHE ACCEPT THE MARRIAGE? Nadia’s fingers hovered over the screen. Then she typed: Yes. She accepted. The response came almost immediately. GOOD. MAKE SURE SHE DOESN’T START ASKING ABOUT HER MOTHER. Nadia went pale. Another message appeared. ESPECIALLY NOT BEFORE THE WEDDING. She stared at the screen, then glanced toward the closed door of her bedroom. For the first time since accepting the assignment, she wondered whether she had made a terrible mistake. But it was too late to turn back. She had already told them yes. And Maysa had no idea that the person she trusted most was helping someone else watch her. …………………