The Enemy I Loved

CHAPTER 4: THE PRICE OF A NAME

IRIS POV

I stood frozen, the blinding camera flashes making it hard to see, to think even to breathe. My fingers clutched the edge of the marriage certificate, the ink still fresh. Proof that my life had just changed with the stroke of a pen.

Then I heard it.

“She’s my wife. That’s all anyone needs to know.”

Sebastian’s voice was firm. Cold. Final.

My head snapped toward him. What?

The reporters erupted. Microphones shoved into our faces. Flashes exploding around us. But all I could hear was the pounding in my ears my own heartbeat betraying me.

I looked up at him tall, unreadable, detached. There was no warmth in his eyes. No trace of regret. Just that same arrogant mask.

Anger boiled inside me. Why would he lie like that? Why pretend this was anything but a transaction? They needed to know the truth. The world needed to see him for what he was.

I raised my hand, voice trembling but loud. “I have something to say,” I said.

The chaos hushed. All attention turned to me.

One reporter stepped forward. “Is there anything you’d like to add to what Mr. Valerio just said?”

I nodded, my lips parting. “Yes. I’m not his…”

“Iris,” Sebastian cut in sharply.

Without another word, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me away from the cameras. I struggled against him, but his grip was firm. Controlling. He yanked open the car door and shoved me inside, slamming it behind me.

“What the hell was that?” he demanded as he slid into the driver’s seat.

I glared at him. “Why didn’t you just tell them the truth? That this is a business deal? That you bought me like I’m some object!”

To my surprise, he chuckled. A deep, amused sound that caught me completely off guard.

“They already know who I am,” he said coolly. “You’re my wife now, whether you like it or not. So get used to it.”

I scoffed and spat on the floor between us. “I’ll never be your wife. Not truly. Not ever.”

He smirked, adjusting his seatbelt. “Good. I like a challenge.”

He turned on the engine and hit the gas. I stared out the window, trying to hold back tears. I couldn’t believe it. I wasn’t just trapped I was married to a monster.

I was scared. Scared of what this marriage truly meant… of what it would take from me. Most of all, I was scared that I might never get the chance to fight for justice to find out who really killed my parents.

If my parents hadn’t died, none of this would be happening. I wouldn’t be stuck beside this cold-hearted man. My uncle wouldn’t have gambled with my life like I was worth nothing.

I hissed under my breath, forgetting Sebastian was still beside me.

“Why are you hissing?” he asked, turning to me with that ever-present edge in his voice.

I rolled my eyes.

“I’m taking you to my boutique,” he said bluntly. “You need proper clothes. My wife can’t go around wearing rags.”

I scoffed. “You call it rag, I call it a dress. And I don’t want anything from you.”

He smirked. “Good thing I’m not asking. I’m telling you. After that, my assistant will drive you home. I have work to do.”

“Like I care,” I muttered, turning my face to the window.

As we pulled up to the boutique, I couldn't help but stare. The place was breathtaking. Tall glass windows, shimmering under the afternoon sun, with golden accents and mannequins dressed in stunning designer pieces. It looked like something out of a dream.

“Never seen something like this before?” he asked smugly. “Weren’t you once an heiress?”

I sighed and turned to him. “If you want to insult me, do it directly. Stop beating around the bush.”

“Thank God,” he said with a slight smirk. “You’re smart enough to catch that. Yes, I was insulting you.”

I rolled my eyes again, letting out a sharp breath. “Whatever. I’ll pick out the dresses myself. I don’t need you following me around like a shadow.”

“You think so?” he asked, his gaze sharp and unreadable.

“Yes,” I replied firmly.

He stared at me for a long second, then finally said, “Fine. Go ahead. Do the shopping yourself.”

I didn’t waste a second. I opened the car door and walked into the boutique without looking back. I didn’t want to see his face again at least not today.

Inside, the boutique smelled of roses and polished wood. Velvet carpets lined the floors. Glass displays held elegant heels and jewelry that probably cost more than everything I ever owned. It was luxury at its peak.

I walked up to the reception desk where a woman stood, dressed in a crisp designer uniform.

“Hi,” I said with a small smile. “I’m here to pick out some dresses for myself.”

She glanced at me, her eyes trailing down my outfit, then chuckled.

I frowned. “Why are you laughing?”

“Sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. “But do you think this is a place for beggars? This is an exclusive boutique. We only serve high-end clientele. Not… well, whatever you are.”

My smile faded instantly. I stood there, stunned, heat rising to my face. Did she just..?

I scoffed. “Really? A beggar?”

I rolled my eyes and sighed, trying to keep calm. “Listen, I’m not here to cause trouble. Sebastian Valerio brought me here himself. He told me to come inside and pick out whatever I wanted.”

Her smile dropped, replaced by an incredulous look. “Are you kidding me? Sir Sebastian asked you to shop here?” She folded her arms. “You’re lying. He would never stoop that low for someone like you.”

I blinked, trying to hold my ground. “I’m not lying.”

“Then where’s the proof?” she snapped. “If you’re telling the truth, what evidence do you have that he sent you here?”

Evidence? My chest tightened. Do I really need proof to justify my presence?

I drew a shaky breath. “I’m his wife.”

For a second, silence. Then she laughed loud, mocking, cruel. Her voice echoed across the boutique, turning heads.

“His what?” she said, between chuckles. “Oh, this is rich.”

She clapped her hands dramatically. “Attention, everyone!”

My stomach dropped.

A few workers and customers looked up, curious.

“This girl,” she announced loudly, gesturing to me like I was on display, “claims to be Sir Sebastian Valerio’s wife! Yes, the Sebastian Valerio the richest man in Rome, the one every woman dreams of marrying.”

Whispers erupted. Eyes turned. Some gasped. Others laughed behind their hands. I felt their judgment like heat crawling up my skin.

I took a step back, humiliated. My palms were sweaty. My throat was dry. What is wrong with these people? Why was it so impossible to believe?

I whispered, barely audible, “What…?”

But the room had already decided I was a joke.

The whispers turned into sharp-edged words, slicing through the air like knives.

“She must be a thief.”

“She’s not even close to his class.”

“Just look at her clothes. Is she serious?”

“Sir Sebastian would *never* stoop this low.”

My heart pounded painfully in my chest. My hands shook at my sides. I felt like the ground beneath me was cracking, threatening to swallow me whole.

“She’s probably a criminal,” someone muttered.

“She needs to be taught a lesson.”

“She should be arrested!”

My eyes widened in disbelief. I turned, trying to find a friendly face in the crowd, but all I saw were sneers, judgment, disgust. I felt exposed. Naked. Ashamed.

“I’m not lying!” I cried, my voice breaking. “I am Sebastian Valerio’s wife!”

Before I could catch my breath, a sharp sting exploded across my cheek.

Slap.

I stumbled a bit, stunned. The receptionist had slapped me. I touched my cheek slowly, feeling the heat, the pain, the humiliation.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I whispered.

I raised my hand to return the slap, but she caught it mid-air with a tight grip and leaned close, her voice a venomous whisper.

“Don’t you dare raise your hand at me.”

Tears filled my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall. I met her gaze, trembling with rage and humiliation.

“You’ll pay for this,” I whispered, yanking my hand free.

She scoffed, then snapped her fingers. “Guards! Drag this little liar out of here. She has no right to be in this boutique. And blacklist her I don’t want any luxury brand in Rome to ever accept trash like her.”

The guards began to move.

I took a shaky step back, my voice caught in my throat. “Please…”

And then

“Nina!”

The voice cut through the room like a blade.

Everyone froze.

My heart skipped.

That voice.

Deep. Cold. Dangerous.

The customers scattered, heads dropping. The room fell into immediate silence.

I turned slowly toward the entrance…