Wedded to the enemy

Elena Carter had never believed her life could collapse in a single morning-but that was before her phone exploded with messages, headlines, and betrayal.

"Scandal Rocks Carter Enterprises: CEO's Daughter in Leaked Hotel Footage."

"Who's the Man with Elena Carter?"

"Heiress or Homewrecker?"

She gripped her phone tighter, her stomach churning as the coffee in her hand went cold. The image splashed across every gossip site showed her in a hotel hallway-hair tousled, clothes wrinkled, her face turned just enough to confirm it was her.

And the man?

Unidentifiable. Faceless. Just a blur of a tailored suit.

But the damage was done.

By noon, Carter Enterprises' stocks were plummeting. Investors were backing out. Clients were pulling contracts. And her father-cold, proud, powerful-hadn't spoken a single word to her except one:

"Fix this."

The words echoed in her ears like a death sentence.

Now, she sat in the back of a chauffeured car, heading to the one place she never thought she'd go-the penthouse office of Damien Blackwell.

The man who hated her.

And the man she hated in return.

Rain lashed the windows as the car sped through Manhattan's slick streets. Elena stared at the blurred city lights, her reflection ghostlike in the glass. Just three days ago, she was respected, admired-even feared. Now, she was nothing but tabloid trash. A walking scandal.

She clutched her handbag tighter, nails digging into the leather. Damien Blackwell was her last resort. And he knew it.

They had a history-snide remarks at charity galas, cold wars across boardroom tables, and a scathing exposé she'd written during a brief stint in journalism. It was never published, but he'd found out. The damage had been done. His name dragged through whispers.

He never forgot. And he certainly never forgave.

The elevator ride to his floor felt like a descent into hell. The steel doors opened into a fortress of glass, marble, and cold dominance. Everything screamed money and power. The air smelled of sandalwood and something darker-like secrets that had never seen the light.

His assistant didn't even look up as Elena passed. Her heels clicked across the floor like gunshots.

The glass doors to his office loomed like judgment. She drew a breath and stepped through.

There he was.

Damien stood behind his desk, backlit by the skyline. He turned slowly, deliberate-like a lion acknowledging a trespasser.

He was still devastatingly handsome. Broad-shouldered. Midnight eyes. Dangerous.

"Elena Carter," he said smoothly, voice dripping with amusement. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"You know why I'm here," she said, fighting the tremble in her voice.

"Do I?" He stepped forward, each move measured. "Let me guess. You need my help. How ironic."

Her fists clenched. "This scandal is destroying my family's company. If you could publicly deny the rumor that it was you in the video-"

He laughed-cold, slow, cutting. "You think I'd admit to sneaking out of a hotel with you?"

Her cheeks burned. "So it's not about the truth. It's about control."

"With me," he said softly, "it's always about control."

He moved closer, invading her space without touching her. "I'll help you, Elena. I'll fix this mess. I'll even clear your name. But there's one condition."

She hesitated. "What?"

He pulled a sleek document from his drawer and placed it on the desk.

A marriage contract.

She blinked. "You're joking."

"I never joke."

"You want me to marry you?"

"For six months," he said coolly. "A real wedding. Real vows. For the media, we're madly in love. Behind closed doors-I won't touch you. Unless you beg me to."

She recoiled. "You're disgusting."

"And yet, I'm the only lifeline you've got."

Her father's voice echoed in her head. Fix this.

"You get your image cleaned up," she said bitterly. "And I get... what?"

"You get your life back. Your father's approval. Your company. Your name."

She stared at the contract. It looked sterile. Harmless. But it felt like a noose.

"I can't believe this," she whispered.

"You don't have a choice."

Minutes ticked by like hours. Finally, she nodded.

"Fine. I'll marry you."

His smile was slow. Lethal.

"Welcome to hell, Mrs. Blackwell."

Before she could answer, the door burst open.

His assistant rushed in, breathless, holding a tablet. "Sir, you need to see this."

Damien snatched it from her hands. A video played-another one.

Inside the hotel room.

Elena's breath froze in her lungs. Her heart slammed against her ribs.

The man's face was visible this time.

It wasn't Damien.

It was someone else. Someone familiar.

Damien turned to her, eyes narrowing. "Care to explain?"

"I... I don't know who leaked this," she whispered, panic surging.

"Then you better figure it out," he said darkly. "Because if I'm going to save you, I need to know exactly what you've done."

But she couldn't speak.

Because she knew who it was.

And he wasn't just a fling.

He was her ex.

And he had a reason to destroy her.

The air between them pulsed with tension. Damien studied her like a predator circling its prey.

"Elena," he said slowly, dangerously, "if you're dragging me into a war, I need to know if I'm fighting beside you-or against you."

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Because in that moment, she realized something far worse than the scandal.

Someone had planned this.

Someone wanted to ruin her.

And marrying Damien Blackwell might be her only way to survive.