Married To My Enemy's Son

They say a wedding is supposed to be the happiest day of a woman’s life. But as I stood behind the heavy oak doors of the Bellington private chapel, dressed in white like some willing bride, I had never felt more like a prisoner.

My name is Selina Okoye, and today I am marrying the son of the man who destroyed my family.

The fabric of my gown—silk imported from Paris, handpicked by a planner I never met—felt like a noose around my neck. Every pin in my updo, every glossy layer of lipstick, every jewel in the necklace that once belonged to the late Mrs. Bellington screamed of wealth, power, and something I didn’t have the luxury of: choice.

Outside the doors, the music began to play. A grand piano piece that sounded more like a requiem than a wedding march. My cue.

The ushers opened the doors.

I stepped into a sea of strangers wearing forced smiles and expensive perfume. Chandeliers glittered above them, casting halos on people with hearts colder than the marble beneath their feet. All eyes turned to me—the beautiful bride. The lucky woman who won the Bellington heir.

They didn’t know the truth.

I wasn’t lucky.

I was cornered.

My gaze moved down the aisle, where Adrian Bellington stood waiting. Immaculate in a black tux, his face unreadable, lips a straight line, posture flawless. He didn’t smile when he saw me. He didn’t even blink. I could barely breathe, but he stood there like a statue, carved from ice and iron.

I wanted to turn and run. I wanted to scream. But I remembered my mother’s hospital bills. My little sister’s education. My father’s face before he died—empty, defeated, buried under the shame brought by a man named Gregory Bellington.

Adrian’s father.

I stepped forward, one slow, steady step after another. Each one cost me more than the last. The moment I reached the altar, the scent of Adrian’s cologne—woodsy, masculine, and disturbingly familiar—wrapped around me.

“Shall we begin?” the officiant asked.

We nodded. No love. No warmth. Just an agreement signed and sealed in shadows.

The vows were recited, robotic and cold. I didn’t listen to his. I just focused on keeping my hands from shaking.

“I, Selina Okoye, take you, Adrian Bellington, to be my lawfully wedded husband...”

The kiss never happened.

When the officiant invited him to kiss the bride, Adrian leaned in halfway.

I turned my cheek.

Gasps echoed. A few camera shutters clicked. I didn’t care.

Applause followed—polite, mechanical, rehearsed. The Bellingtons always put on a good show.

We walked back down the aisle together, our hands barely brushing. To the outside world, we were a perfect match: the dashing billionaire heir and the elegant mystery bride.

But beneath my smile was a promise.

One day, I would make the Bellingtons pay for what they did to my family.

The reception was held in the family’s private ballroom—gold leaf ceilings, champagne towers, violins playing music so sweet it made my teeth ache. I didn’t belong here. I didn’t want to belong here.

Adrian stood beside me, his hand resting on my lower back like he owned me. The heat of his touch made my skin crawl.

“You looked beautiful today,” he said without looking at me.

I kept my voice low. “Don’t pretend, Adrian. We both know this isn’t real.”

He turned his head then, meeting my gaze. For a moment, I saw a flicker of something in his storm-grey eyes—guilt, maybe. Or regret. But it disappeared too quickly.

“We made a deal,” he said quietly. “No one forced you to say yes.”

“I said yes because I didn’t have a choice.” I stepped away, scanning the crowd for a familiar face. My mother sat in the far corner, her skin pale, shoulders tense.

Adrian followed my gaze. “She’ll get the best care money can buy.”

I turned to him, my jaw tight. “Money won’t fix what your family did.”

Adrian’s face darkened. “If you want to survive here, Selina, you’d better learn to let go of the past.”

I stared at him. “I’m not here to survive. I’m here to win.”

That night, in the honeymoon suite, I stood at the window in a white silk robe, looking out at the glittering city lights of New York.

Adrian sat on the edge of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt. “You can sleep wherever you want,” he said, not looking at me. “This doesn’t have to be difficult.”

I turned to him. “Why me?”

He froze.

“You could’ve married anyone,” I continued. “Any socialite. Any model. Why the daughter of your father’s enemy?”

Adrian exhaled. “Because unlike them, you have something to lose.”

There it was. The truth, cold and bare.

He didn’t pick me because he wanted me.

He picked me because I was desperate enough to say yes.

I nodded slowly. “Thank you for your honesty.”

I walked into the adjoining room and slammed the door shut behind me.

Tears burned my eyes, but I wouldn’t let them fall.

This wasn’t the end.

This was the beginning.

The beginning of a marriage built on lies, revenge, and hidden truths.

And I had a secret of my own.

Something even Adrian didn’t know.

A secret that could destroy everything.