Lahat ng Kabanata ng MARRIED TO MY ENEMY’S BILLIONAIRE BROTHER: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

For a moment, I just stared at Damien’s outstretched hand.It felt like the entire room was holding its breath, waiting to see if the abandoned bride would really take the devil’s offer.The whispering was relentless now.“Is she going to—?”“That’s Ethan’s brother…”“This is about to get ugly…”My father’s voice cut through the noise. “Clara.”I turned my head. His eyes — usually so steady — were flicking between me and Damien, calculating, as though he already understood the unspoken meaning behind this offer.“Not here,” my mother hissed under her breath, her fingers gripping my arm with surprising force. “We can discuss this privately.”But Damien didn’t move. He stood solid as stone, hand still extended, expression carved from ice.“If you wait,” he said, his voice calm and almost bored, “Ethan will win. He’ll walk away with your family’s dignity, and the rest of your father’s company. By the time the tabloids are finished, you’ll be nothing but a sad headline.”I bristled. “And

The ride from the ballroom to Damien’s penthouse was silent except for the steady hum of the car’s engine.I sat with my hands clasped in my lap, still trying to process the fact that ten minutes ago, I’d been publicly engaged to Ethan’s older brother.And he hadn’t even asked if I’d say yes — he’d just told the press.Damien leaned back against the leather seat, looking as calm as if he’d just concluded a business meeting. His phone was in his hand, his thumbs moving quickly over the screen.“Was it necessary to humiliate them in front of everyone?” I asked finally, my voice sharper than I intended.“Yes,” he said simply, not looking up.I turned to him, my frustration boiling. “You could have told me before you announced we were getting married in front of the world.”That made him pause. His gaze lifted, steady and unreadable. “If I’d given you time to think, you might have said no.”“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”He smirked faintly. “It’s supposed to make you realize th

The next evening, I found myself standing in front of the mirror in a dress I didn’t choose.It had been laid out on my bed earlier — a deep wine-red satin gown with a plunging neckline and an open back. My first thought had been to reject it entirely, but curiosity won. I wanted to know why Damien was dressing me like an ornament.When I came downstairs, he was waiting at the foot of the staircase.His eyes swept over me slowly, not like a man admiring a woman, but like a general inspecting a soldier before battle.“You’ll do,” he said simply.“Do for what?” I asked, meeting his gaze.He gave me that sharp, unreadable look again. “You’ll see.”The dining hall was cavernous, with a table long enough to seat twenty. Tonight, it held only three people: Damien, myself, and a woman with a smile like sharpened glass.“Clara,” Damien said, “this is my aunt, Miranda Vale.”Miranda’s eyes scanned me the way a jeweler might inspect a diamond for flaws.“So,” she purred, “you’re the girl who go

The Vale Gala had a reputation for extravagance, but nothing in my life had prepared me for this.As Damien’s limousine pulled up to the velvet-red carpet, I could see the flash of cameras and hear the low hum of whispered speculation before we even stepped out.“Stay close,” Damien murmured, his hand brushing mine—not a touch of warmth, just firm, calculated control.I swallowed hard. “If we survive this, I might need therapy.”He smirked, leaning closer so only I could hear. “Therapy won’t help you. This is only the beginning.”When we stepped onto the carpet, the crowd parted automatically. Every socialite, every journalist, every influencer present was already focused on us. And why wouldn’t they be? Clara Hayes—the girl who had been abandoned at her own wedding—was now Damien Vale’s wife.The cameras clicked nonstop as Damien gently, deliberately placed his hand on the small of my back, guiding me forward. My stomach twisted in both frustration and something I refused to name.“O

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but it did nothing to lighten the weight on my chest. The Vale mansion was quiet, almost unnaturally so, as if the house itself was holding its breath after last night’s storm.I sat on the edge of the bed, my fingers brushing the smooth fabric of the gown I had worn to the gala. Even now, I could feel the memory of Damien’s hand on my waist, the whisper in my ear, and the way he had claimed me—if only in appearance—before the entire room.The phone on the bedside table buzzed. I picked it up reluctantly, expecting messages from the press or, worse, Sophie gloating. Instead, it was my assistant.“Clara, your father wants to speak with you. He’s worried. He says the stock reports are… volatile.”I groaned. The gala had been one thing, but now the real mess of my family’s business awaited.I dressed quickly, opting for something simple but elegant: a fitted black dress that fell just below the knees and modest heels. If last night