Married to My Enemy's Son

The storm outside matched the one inside Amara's heart. Thunder cracked across the dark sky as rain painted streaks on the windows of the grand Ashford Mansion. She stood silently by the fireplace, arms crossed, staring into the flickering flames as if they held the answers to a question she'd never asked.

"You will marry him."

Her father's voice echoed in her mind. Calm, but final. No room for emotion. No space for rebellion.

Amara gritted her teeth. "You're asking me to marry the son of the man who destroyed our lives?!"

"Exactly," her father had said, eyes cold. "We lost everything to the Lockwoods. This is how we get it all back."

Now, just hours away from the engagement announcement, Amara's chest tightened with dread. Her fingers curled into fists. She wasn't a pawn. She was a person. A daughter. A woman.

But in the world of powerful families and ruthless legacies, none of that mattered.

Especially not when her future husband was Liam Lockwood-the arrogant, entitled son of Henry Lockwood, the same man who orchestrated the downfall of her family's company five years ago.

Amara hadn't seen Liam since they were teenagers. Back then, he was charming in a way that felt dangerous. Too smooth. Too confident. A spoiled prince of the business world with everything handed to him-and the coldest smile she'd ever seen.

Now, she was supposed to become his wife.

A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. Her mother entered, draped in pearls and pride. "Darling, the guests are arriving. Fix your hair."

Amara turned to face her. "Do you even care how I feel about this?"

Her mother sighed. "Feelings don't build empires. Sacrifice does."

Amara wanted to scream, to run, to tear off the golden cage they were locking around her. But the guilt of her family's fall... her father's health... their debts... it all sat heavy on her shoulders.

"I'll be ready in five minutes," she said flatly. Her mother nodded and walked out without another word.

Alone again, Amara looked in the mirror. Her reflection stared back-a stranger wrapped in silk and sorrow.

She whispered to herself, "You're not marrying him for love. You're marrying him for war."

---

At the Lockwood estate, Liam stood with a crystal glass of whiskey, watching the rain from his penthouse balcony. He wasn't excited. He wasn't even curious.

An arranged marriage was just another boardroom deal-another merger. He'd been raised for this. Groomed to lead, to dominate, to win.

But one thing nagged at him: Amara Walsh.

The girl whose family his father crushed. The girl who once slapped him across the face at a gala when he was seventeen. The only girl who ever told him the truth to his face-and walked away without caring about his last name.

He smirked. "This should be interesting."

His phone buzzed. A message from his father:

"The Walsh girl is your problem now. Don't mess it up."

Liam downed his drink. Problem? Maybe. But he had a feeling Amara would be more than that.

She'd be a challenge.

And he loved a good challenge.

---

The engagement ceremony was lavish, full of flashing cameras, clinking glasses, and fake smiles. Powerful families from across the country gathered in suits and sequins to witness the union of two bloodlines that had once been enemies.

Amara stood beside Liam on the stage, her fingers icy in his warm grip. The ring sparkled on her finger like a brand.

When the host asked them to say a few words, Liam took the microphone and smiled at the crowd.

"I didn't think I'd find myself getting engaged this year," he began smoothly. "But life is full of surprises. Some pleasant. Some... complicated."

Polite laughter echoed. He turned to Amara. "But if there's one thing I respect, it's strength. And my fiancée has it in ways that can't be measured."

The crowd clapped.

Amara gave a tight smile. When she took the mic, her voice was steady, her eyes unreadable. "I never imagined marrying into the Lockwood family. But if life throws you to the wolves... learn to lead the pack."

The audience erupted in gasps and admiration. Liam raised a brow and leaned close, whispering, "Cute. Did you rehearse that in the mirror?"

She didn't look at him. "No. I was born for it."

---

Later that night, in the garden where the flowers whispered in the breeze and moonlight spilled like silver dust, Liam found Amara alone by the fountain.

"You really hate me, don't you?" he said, slipping his hands into his pockets.

She didn't flinch. "Do you blame me?"

"No." He stepped closer. "But here's the thing-you might hate me, but you'll never be able to ignore me."

Amara turned to face him, fire in her eyes. "Don't mistake this for anything more than a deal. I'm not here to fall in love with you. I'm here to protect what's left of my family."

Liam tilted his head. "And I'm not here to win your love. I'm here to prove that I can make this work-without falling for a woman who wants to destroy me."

They stared at each other in silence. Enemies. Bound by vows neither wanted.

But the lines between hate and something deeper were already starting to blur.