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CHAPTER 20: The Price of Disappearing.
Dernière mise à jour:
2025-07-04 20:28:34
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The Billionaire Broken Bride—Married To My Enemy. CHAPTER 91: Belonging.
MICHAEL'S POVThe kiss lingered in my veins long after our lips parted. At first, there was nothing, no pastor's voice, no applause, not even the swell of music. Only her. My wife.The word alone rattled through me, making my chest tighten. Wife. Mine.Then sound returned all at once, crashing like a wave of cheers, laughter, the rising applause of family and friends. I tightened my hold around Alessa’s hand, anchoring myself in the only thing that mattered, as the pastor’s proud voice echoed across the hall: husband and wife.Flashes lit the air. Photographers closed in, moving like waves around us as we were pulled forward.My parents were first. My mother’s tears spilled without shame, her hands cupping my face before she kissed my cheek. My father, usually carved from stone, tried to hold back but his eyes gave him away. He gripped my shoulder with a pride that words couldn’t carry.Then Alessa’s family. Her uncle pulled me into a rough embrace, his palm pressing firm against my b
The Billionaire Broken Bride—Married To My Enemy. CHAPTER 90: Where Love Was Never Meant to Be.
ALESSA'S POV The limousine slowed, its gentle hum softening as if even the car knew the weight of where it had brought me. My hands trembled in my lap, hidden beneath folds of ivory lace. I pressed them down, willing them still, but it wasn’t nerves of doubt. It was the heaviness of everything that had led me here, every step, every tear, every prayer.I leaned my head against the seat, closing my eyes, and let my heart wander back.This was where it began. The impossible journey of finding love in a place I swore it would never exist. Once, I believed I hated Michael, believed our contract was nothing more than a cruel joke carved into my life by fate. Night after night, I begged for it to end. I cried into my pillow until exhaustion stole my breath, whispered prayers for freedom until my throat burned, swore to myself that I would never, ever love him.But fate had been laughing at me, tugging at invisible strings, pulling me closer to him even as I fought it.I remember the moment
The Billionaire Broken Bride—Married To My Enemy. CHAPTER 89: Walking Into Forever.
ALESSA'S POVI never thought we would get here.Not in my wildest dreams did I imagine Michael would love me. Not truly. Not openly. Not in the way he does now, raw, unwavering, unhidden. The memory of how it all began clings to me still, like a scar that never quite faded, even under layers of healing.I remember the first time he humiliated me in public, how his words, sharp and deliberate, cut deeper than he ever knew. The sting of them haunted me long after the moment passed. I had swallowed back tears, promising myself he would never see me break again.I hadn't married him for love. I hadn't even married him for myself. I had married him because of my mother, because her treatment demanded money I didn't have, because desperation cornered me, because choices I never wanted closed around me like a cage. I still remember my hands trembling as I signed those papers, knowing my future had just been sealed to a man who didn't want me, who barely looked at me, who certainly didn't b
The Billionaire Broken Bride—Married To My Enemy. CHAPTER 88: Radiance in the Aisle.
MICHAEL'S POVAfter Natasha broke my heart, my world had shrunk. I buried myself in work like it was the only thing keeping me alive. Nights out with friends blurred into drinks and laughter I didn’t feel, shallow conversations with people I barely cared about.I was cold, sharp, unapproachable. I thought distance and discipline were strength. I thought emptiness was control.And then Alessa.Two years ago, she stepped in as my contracted wife, and slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, the walls I’d built around me began to crumble. I became less cold. I smiled more without realizing it. I carved out time for someone else’s happiness and, in the process, discovered my own.A year ago, after Caleb's arrest, we started loving each other deeply not just living in the same house, not just sharing dinners or schedules, but really feeling. Really wanting. Really choosing.Today was June 21st. The same date as our first wedding. That day had been nothing like rushed, constrained, governed
The Billionaire Broken Bride—Married To My Enemy. CHAPTER 87: Where Promises Shine Again.
NATASHA'S POVDays rolled into weeks, and weeks melted into months, until June 21st finally arrived. The date had been circled on the calendar for so long that it almost felt surreal when it came. Alessa and Michael’s wedding anniversary.But it wasn’t just another anniversary. It wasn’t a casual dinner or a quiet evening with close family. This was something else entirely. It felt like a rebirth of vows, a renewal of promises, a second wedding wrapped in gold and brilliance.From the very beginning, Alessa had confided in me about her plans. Late-night conversations, sketches on napkins, ideas that spilled out of her like water, and dreams she couldn’t keep contained. She wanted something that shimmered with magic, something that would capture the heart just like their first wedding day had, only brighter. She wanted it to be dazzling, unforgettable, proof that love could still feel new even after time had passed.And I was there for all of it.From the flowers to the drapes, the
The Billionaire Broken Bride—Married To My Enemy. CHAPTER 86: Unwritten Verses.
NATASHA'S POV The familiar hum of the studio wrapped around me like a second skin. The faint buzz of the monitors, the soft glow of the soundboard lights, the tangle of wires sprawled across the floor, it was chaos to anyone else, but to me, it was home.I adjusted the headphones around my neck and tapped my pen against the notebook balanced on my knee. Another verse, another melody, another piece of me stitched into rhythm. For months now, I had buried myself completely in music. Back-to-back projects, half-finished demos polished until they gleamed, even reworking old albums I once swore I would never touch again. The pace was relentless, but I thrived on it. The work kept my pulse steady, my mind sharp. It kept me alive.The microphone caught my reflection, focused eyes, lips moving with words I wasn’t sure I’d keep. I hit record, hummed a chorus, and stopped, laughing at how off-key the playback came out. No matter. Perfection wasn’t the point tonight. Creation was.The door c
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