All Chapters of Married to My Enemy's Son: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

95 Chapters

Chapter Eleven: His Terms

Four days after the staff bathroom. Nadia had told no one. She went to work on Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and the following Monday, teaching her classes, grading essays, and answering emails exactly as she always did. She even scheduled a doctor's appointment for the following week under the vague pretense of a routine checkup. She hadn't actually decided what she was going to do yet. She had only settled on one absolute rule: she was going to think through her options completely alone before anyone else got a say. Especially him. Which was why, when her doorbell rang at seven-forty-five on a Tuesday evening, she was entirely caught off guard by the man standing on her welcome mat. Caiden Wolfe. He wore a heavy dark coat, his expression characteristically unreadable, with a thick leather document folder tucked under one arm. Nadia froze, staring at him. He looked back with the absolute patience of a man who had already decided exactly how the next hour was going to play ou

Chapter Twelve: The Announcement

The morning after signing the contract, Nadia woke at six-thirty, got ready with her usual efficiency, and arrived at school with fifteen minutes to spare. She had slept surprisingly well—a fact she chose not to examine too closely. Decisions, once they were finally made, had a cold way of quieting the mind.She settled at her staffroom desk with the last of her Year Twelve essays and a red pen, working her way through the stack steadily. The room filled up around her with the familiar mid-week rhythm—coats clattering onto hooks, the kettle whistling, teachers grumbling under their breath about the upcoming exam schedule. She offered polite, predictable nods where expected and kept her eyes on her grading.Marcus arrived at half past eight. He taught mathematics two doors down, a consistently pleasant man whose mild interest she had been carefully navigating for the past month. He’d brought her unrequested coffee twice, and once asked, in a painfully roundabout way, if she might be fr

Chapter Thirteen: Moving In

Leo called at eight-thirty the following morning with a moving schedule organized down to the minute.Nadia listened with her phone pressed to her ear, watching her coffee go cold on the kitchen counter. She didn't write anything down. She didn't need to. The instructions were clear, efficient, and left absolutely no room for variation.When Leo finished, she said, "I'm keeping my apartment"."Mr. Wolfe has noted that," Leo replied smoothly. "The lease will remain active. Your belongings for the estate will be collected at ten".She hung up and looked around her space. Her books. Her grading piles. The small shelves of things she had accumulated over three years of living entirely alone. She had exactly two hours.She packed quickly and methodically, refusing to think too hard about what she was doing. Three bags of clothes. Her teaching materials. The photograph of her mother from her bedside table. Her preferred tea. She left everything else—the furniture, the kitchenware, the ordin

Chapter Fourteen: Separate Rooms

The contract had been clear on three things: two years, no personal involvement, and no touching. Not even holding hands.Nadia had read those terms four times before signing. She understood them; she had been the one to repeat them back to Caiden word for word before putting pen to paper. She had no confusion about what they had agreed to.What she hadn’t anticipated was the sheer logistics of it.On her second morning at the estate, Leo delivered a single, printed page outlining the practical boundaries. At the top, underlined: *No physical contact between parties unless required for public appearances as outlined in section nine*. Below that was a meticulous breakdown of the guest suite arrangements and a strict schedule for the use of shared spaces.She stared at it for a long moment, then set it on the desk next to the photograph of her mother and left for her morning classes.When she returned that evening, the paper was still there. She read it over, turned it face down, and ma

chapter Fifteen: The Dream

The first week at the estate passed without incident, which Nadia considered a reasonable outcome given the circumstances. She kept to her schedule. She taught her classes, marked her papers, tutored Cullen three evenings a week, and attended to her two independent students on the designated nights. She ate breakfast alone in the kitchen between six and six-thirty, occasionally overlapping with Caiden by the terms of the revised schedule, during which they exchanged approximately twelve words total across five mornings. She ate dinner in the dining room when she was expected to, and in her room when she was not. She did not go back to the library shelf. The things Caiden had told her in the kitchen on that second morning sat quietly in the back of her mind. She already knew the caption on the photograph by heart; she didn't need to cross those six steps to look at it again. On Friday, she finished her grading at eleven-fifteen. She had intended to be asleep by ten-thirty,

Chapter Sixteen: Eleanor

Nadia still hadn't called her parents. She had picked up the phone twice in the past week and laid it back down both times. Her mother would cry. Her father would go completely silent, which was always worse. They would ask the practical questions she wasn't ready to answer, and explaining a contract marriage to two people who had been happily married for over three decades without a single legal document involved felt impossible. She just needed a few more days where her life belonged entirely to her before handing it over to their reactions. On a cold Saturday morning three weeks after moving into the estate, she was at her desk reviewing the upcoming week's literature lesson plans when a car pulled onto the gravel drive below. She glanced out the window to see a sleek, unfamiliar silver sedan. A driver stepped out to open the door for a small, upright woman who moved with the certainty of someone accustomed to getting her way before she even arrived. Nadia watched her march up t

Chapter Seventeen: Isadora

Eleanor stayed for dinner. This had not been planned. It simply happened the way things always did with Eleanor: she was still in the sitting room at half past six, Cullen appeared to announce that Mrs. Park was making lamb, and Eleanor set down her tea and said she supposed she might as well stay. The satisfaction in her expression suggested the outcome surprised no one less than Eleanor herself. Nadia hadn't been part of the dinner plan either. She had come downstairs to retrieve a book from the library and found herself drawn into the dining room, trapped between Eleanor’s resolve and Cullen’s refusal to eat unless everyone was present. Caiden, arriving from his study, looked at the table set for four and said nothing. The lack of surprise was answer enough. Dinner with Eleanor was entirely different from dinner without her. Usually, the meal was quiet and functional—Cullen talked, Caiden answered in short sentences, and Nadia contributed only when the conversation touched on s

Chapter Eighteen: Blake

The invitation arrived through Leo two days before the event, formatted with the same clinical efficiency as everything else: a charity gala, Friday evening, formal dress, attendance required as Caiden's wife. Below the logistics was a brief note stating that a stylist would arrive at four-thirty.Nadia read it, sent back a single text asking if she needed to prepare anything specific, received a prompt no, and went back to grading her papers. It wasn't until Friday afternoon that she fully considered what attending a public event as Caiden's wife would actually feel like.The stylist was punctual, moving with a quiet, practiced professionalism that had Nadia ready by six. The dress chosen for her was a deep navy—structured, elegant, and understated enough that she didn't feel like she was wearing a costume. Looking at her reflection in the full-length mirror, Nadia decided it would pass.Leo was already waiting at the car. Caiden sat in the back seat, dressed in a tailored tuxedo, st

Chapter Nineteen: The Function

The gala was only the first. Two weeks later, Leo delivered another invitation. A foundation dinner, smaller than the gala—sixty people rather than three hundred. Black tie. Her attendance required. Then came a gallery reception the following week. Then a board dinner that Caiden informed her of forty-eight hours in advance, his tone carrying that sharp, unyielding note he used whenever a matter was non-negotiable. By the third event, Nadia had stopped treating each one as a sudden ambush. Instead, she began viewing them as a routine part of the arrangement. The gallery reception fell on a Thursday evening. This time, she wore a dark green gown she had chosen and purchased herself, having decided after the gala that she preferred making her own choices about how she appeared. The stylist had been perfectly competent, but Nadia simply operated better when the decision was hers. Leo dropped them at the entrance at seven. The gallery was a converted warehouse in the arts district, a

Chapter Twenty: What Eleanor Knows

Eleanor returned to the estate on a Saturday. True to form, she arrived completely unannounced, carrying herself with the absolute certainty of a woman who viewed advanced warnings as a courtesy she simply had no intention of wasting. This time, however, Nadia caught the heavy crunch of tires on the gravel driveway and came downstairs immediately, wanting to meet her before Mrs. Park could intercept her. Eleanor was in the foyer, handing her heavy wool coat to Hana, when Nadia reached the final step. Eleanor looked up, her sharp gaze narrowing slightly in a way Nadia was beginning to recognize as genuine interest. "Good," Eleanor said, smoothing the lapels of her suit. "You came down yourself. Last time I was left waiting in the parlor." "I heard the car," Nadia said, offering a small smile. "Even better. It means you’re listening." Eleanor turned and marched toward the sitting room with practiced familiarity. "Let’s have some tea. And you can tell me exactly how these past two

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