MARRIED TO MY ENEMY’S BILLIONAIRE BROTHER

The string quartet played softly.

The scent of roses floated through the grand hall, clinging to the lace of my gown.

Every eye was on me, every whispered murmur bouncing off the gilded walls of the Vale family’s private ballroom.

I should have been radiant. I should have been the happiest bride alive.

Instead, my palms were sweating beneath my silk gloves, my heart thudding so loudly I wondered if the guests could hear it.

“Is he late?” my maid of honor, Leah, whispered, leaning in. Her painted lips curved into a nervous smile, but her eyes darted toward the ornate double doors.

“He’s probably just—” I began, forcing my voice to sound steady.

The double doors slammed open.

It wasn’t Ethan.

It was my cousin, Emily — her hair a wind-tangled mess, her cheeks flushed as though she’d run a mile.

She clutched her phone like it was a lifeline, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Her eyes found mine, full of pity. “Clara…” Her voice was barely a breath. “You… you need to see this.”

A cold weight dropped into my stomach. “What is it?”

She glanced at my parents — my father’s proud posture, my mother’s practiced smile — then handed me her phone.

On the screen, a grainy video was already playing.

My breath caught.

It was Ethan. My Ethan.

Still in his tuxedo.

But instead of walking toward me, he was outside, on the steps of some building I didn’t recognize, his hands tangled in the hair of my sister, Sophie.

They were kissing like the world had ended and they didn’t care who saw.

The video shook as if the person filming couldn’t believe their eyes.

Then Ethan pulled back, smiling down at her.

“Ready?” he asked, the single word carrying in the quiet clip.

Sophie laughed — the sound sharp, victorious.

“Let’s leave her to clean up the mess.”

The crowd in the video gasped. A car door opened, and Ethan scooped Sophie up in his arms, carrying her into a sleek black limousine.

The doors shut. The video ended.

Gasps rippled through the hall. The music faltered, then stopped entirely.

My father’s face drained of color. My mother’s manicured fingers gripped her pearls so tightly they trembled.

The murmurs began instantly, hissing through the guests like venom.

“She got dumped for her own sister…”

“How humiliating…”

“Didn’t their father’s company just lose a huge contract?”

“I heard they’re practically bankrupt…”

It was like every word was a stone being thrown at me.

I wanted to move, to say something, but my body wouldn’t obey. My throat felt tight, my ears ringing.

My fiancé.

My sister.

Together.

And the whole world was watching.

I must have looked like a statue in white — pale, frozen, barely breathing.

Then, from the back of the room, a voice cut through the noise.

Low. Deep. Commanding.

“Enough.”

Every whisper died. All eyes turned toward the doorway.

Damien Vale.

Ethan’s older brother.

The true heir to the Vale empire.

The man I had only ever exchanged a handful of words with — each one cold, clipped, and laced with disdain.

He stood there in a black suit that probably cost more than my father’s car, his broad shoulders blocking the light from the chandelier behind him.

His eyes — a shade of gray that could freeze fire — locked on mine.

The way he walked down the aisle, slow and deliberate, made it feel like he owned the air we were breathing. His polished shoes clicked softly against the marble floor, echoing in the stunned silence.

He stopped in front of me.

“Clara,” he said quietly, so only I could hear, “if you want to destroy him… marry me instead.”

I blinked at him, my mind spinning. “What?”

The faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, though his eyes remained cold. “You heard me.”

I glanced over his shoulder. People were leaning forward, craning their necks, trying to hear. My mother’s eyes were wide, my father’s jaw tense. Ethan’s absence hung in the air like the stench of something rotten.

Damien leaned closer, his scent — expensive cologne and something darker — curling around me.

“You want revenge? I can give it to you. You want to save your father’s company? I can do that too.” His gaze dipped to my trembling hands before meeting my eyes again. “But you’ll have to marry me.”

I let out a shaky laugh. “You hate me.”

His smirk vanished. “No. I don’t hate you, Clara. I just don’t waste time on people who don’t matter. Until now.”

My heart pounded. My world had just crumbled — and here he was, offering me a way to burn the pieces to ash.

But Damien Vale was dangerous. Ruthless. He didn’t make offers without strings.

“What’s in it for you?” I asked, my voice low.

He straightened, his face an unreadable mask. “Let’s just say your ex isn’t the only one I plan to ruin.”

The silence stretched.

Somewhere in the crowd, a phone camera clicked. The whispers started again.

And as I stood there, my perfect wedding shattered around me, Damien extended his hand.

“Say yes,” he murmured, “and I’ll make sure they regret ever crossing you.”