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I MARRIED MY ENEMY FOR REVENGE Novel Cover

I MARRIED MY ENEMY FOR REVENGE

Driven by years of intense hatred, Avalan enters a surprise marriage alliance with Shadric Vale, the wealthy heir who once publicly shattered her heart. Her secret agenda is total ruin. Yet, living as his wife exposes a man far different from the villain she remembered. As dangerous secrets unravel, Avalan realizes her memories of the past are deeply flawed. If her new husband is actually innocent, she has bound herself to the wrong enemy, and the real traitor is still hiding in plain sight.
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Chapter 5

The engagement pictures felt like punishment to me.

I stood beside him in the middle of the sitting room. At the same time, our relatives moved around excitedly, adjusting decorations, fixing my hair, and changing our positions every few seconds, as if they were directing a love story.

"Stand closer," my cousin complained again, lowering the phone in frustration. "Why do both of you look like strangers forced to take a passport photograph?"

A few people around us laughed in agreement.

I forced a smile.

Shadric said nothing.

"Put your hand around her," one of my aunties said excitedly.

My body froze immediately.

Shadric hesitated.

Interesting.

His arm settled lightly around my waist, careful not to pull me closer.

Why was he avoiding me too?

"Better!" my cousin said happily while snapping more pictures. "Now look at each other."

Absolutely not.

I turned my face away immediately. "I think we've taken enough pictures."

"Avalan," my mother warned softly.

I swallowed my irritation and looked back reluctantly.

The moment my eyes met his, something uncomfortable passed between us again.

No matter how angry I was, my body still hadn't learned to hate him.

The pictures finally ended. It was finally time for a breath of fresh air, but my mother made sure I didn't have that.

"Avalan, come here."

My mother was sitting with Shadric's parents now, a notebook open between them.

I reluctantly joined them.

"We're discussing the weeks after the engagement," Victoria said.

"There are weeks after this?"

My mother gave me a look.

Victoria smiled. "Unfortunately."

Richard didn't.

"There are several family commitments before the wedding," he said. "The Foundation dinner is one of them."

"And I need to be there because?"

"Because you're marrying into the family."

The answer should have irritated me.

Instead, something inside me went very still.

Marrying Shadric wasn't only putting his ring on my finger. It was putting me inside a world that had always belonged to the Vales.

Their dinners.

Their family.

Their carefully protected world.

Maybe that was where I had been thinking about revenge all wrong.

I didn't need to attack Vale from outside.

They were inviting me in themselves.

"Avalan?"

I looked at Victoria.

"Sorry. What were you saying?"

"The Foundation dinner. Will you come?"

I glanced across the room at Shadric.

"Of course."

Richard observed me for a moment.

"You changed your mind quickly."

I smiled.

"I'm trying to embrace the family spirit."

He didn't look convinced.

Good.

He shouldn't be.

"What exactly does the Foundation do?" I asked.

Richard's attention returned to me.

"You're suddenly interested?"

"I'm marrying your son. Apparently, that comes with family commitments. I should probably know what I'm committing to."

Victoria answered before he could.

"Education mostly. Scholarships, community programmes, grants. You'll see more at the dinner."

"And Shadric is involved?"

"When necessary," Richard said.

I nodded as though the answer meant nothing.

But I was listening differently now.

Seven years ago, I had known Shadric as the boy I was hopelessly in love with. I knew almost nothing about the man standing across the room now or the life the Vales had built while I was gone.

If I wanted to hurt him, anger wasn't enough.

I needed to know him.

What mattered to him.

What he protected.

What he couldn't afford to lose.

And marrying him had just given me the perfect excuse to find out.

While everyone remained busy laughing, eating, and talking about the wedding, I slipped quietly out of the sitting room and headed for the back balcony.

The evening breeze hit my face immediately. For the first time all day, I could finally breathe.

It felt peaceful, or at least it did, until I heard footsteps behind me.

I didn't need to turn around.

"You really enjoy following me around now, don't you?"

The words came out colder than I intended.

He stopped a short distance behind me. "You keep walking away."

I let out a soft laugh and folded my arms against the railing. "Maybe that should tell you something."

He stepped closer.

"Do you really hate me that much?" he asked quietly.

I turned to look at him. "Did I hide it?"

"Then why did you agree to marry me?"

Revenge.

The answer came immediately, but I wasn't stupid enough to give it to him.

"You make it sound unreasonable."

His gaze stayed on me steadily. "Isn't it?"

A bitter smile touched my lips.

"Why does it bother you so much? You're the one who came asking for this marriage."

"Because I want to make things right."

"No, you don't. You thought I was still the girl you left behind."

He rested his hands against the balcony rail.

"You still don't trust me."

"Should I?"

"No."

I hadn't expected that.

"At least you're finally being sensible."

"But you could start asking the right questions."

"There you go again."

"Doing what?"

"Talking in riddles instead of answering me."

His hand left the railing.

"You think I'm lying."

"Aren't you?"

His jaw shifted.

"You really think that little of me?"

I stared at him in disbelief. "You lost the right to be offended years ago."

He went quiet.

Good.

Let him feel something for once.

"You remember what happened to you," he said. "That doesn't mean you know what happened before you walked into that room."

I laughed. "What happened before? The part where I was stupid enough to love you?"

"That's not what I mean."

"Then stop talking around it and tell me."

He looked back towards the sitting room before answering.

"Who told you I gave your letter away?"

I stared at him.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Everyone knew."

"That's not what I asked."

My irritation returned. "What difference does it make?"

"Because you weren't there when the letter left my hands."

I stopped.

"So I'm asking you again. Who told you?"

I opened my mouth.

Then closed it.

Because for something I had believed for seven years, I couldn't remember ever asking myself that question.

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