Married to my Father’s Enemy

“So, this was the plan all along?”

I glanced between Daniel and Bella, my hands clenching slightly by my sides.

“Wait until after the wedding… and then tell me?”

Bella let out a dismissive breath, her lips curling into a faint smile as she tilted her head.

“You always dramatize everything,” she said lightly. “It’s not that deep.”

And just like that, the dam inside me broke.

Before I could think, my hand shot out, the slap landing across her cheek with a sharp crack that sliced through the silence of the room. The sound was deafening, a physical release of everything I had kept bottled up for too long.

Bella stumbled back, her eyes widening in disbelief as she held her cheek.

But the moment was shattered by the voices at the door.

“What’s going on here?” My mother’s voice was clipped as she and my father stepped in, their gazes immediately locking on Bella.

Their attention shifted so quickly, so naturally, that it was like I wasn’t even there.

Bella, ever the actress, pointed a trembling finger at me. “She slapped me.”

My mother moved swiftly toward her, her eyes full of concern as if Bella were the one who had suffered, and I was the villain. “Aria… is that true?”

I let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and hollow. “Of course that’s what she says.”

My father’s voice grew firmer, like it always did when he needed to assert control. “Then explain yourself.”

“She insulted me,” I shot back, the words almost choking me as they left my lips. “But none of you care about that.”

My mother didn’t even look at me. She stayed by Bella’s side, her expression softening as if to shield her from the consequences of her actions.

My father’s face darkened, a frown deepening as he glared at me. “Apologize to your sister.”

I froze for a moment, my gaze fixed on them, disbelief simmering beneath the surface. Slowly, I shook my head. “No.”

Daniel, silent as ever, stood off to the side, watching the scene unfold. His presence once comforting, felt cold now. Like he wasn’t even a part of my world anymore.

I took a breath, stepped back, and turned on my heel. “I’m done here.”

Without waiting for another word, I walked out, their voices trailing behind me.

I walked, my steps automatic, until I noticed a bar ahead.

I slowed, then pushed the door open and stepped inside, heading straight for the counter and sitting down.

How had it come to this? First, I caught my fiancé cheating on me with my own sister, and now my parents were what? Defending her like I was the one who’d committed a crime?

I didn’t even know how much I drank. I wasn’t counting. I wasn’t thinking. All I knew was that I needed to drown out the chaos inside me.

A new drink appeared in front of me, and my vision blurred at the edges. I took it without hesitation, bringing it to my lips but just before I could swallow—

A hand shot out, grabbing the glass from me.

I blinked in confusion. Who the hell…?

I stared at the figure sitting across from me, feeling an odd sense of recognition—Daniel?

No, it couldn’t be him. That idiot was busy screwing my sister. The audacity of everyone around me, acting like I wasn’t the one being torn apart.

“Hey!” I screamed, the anger boiling over. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

But he didn’t even flinch. He just sat there, calm, composed, as though I hadn’t just screamed at him.

He was dressed in a fitted shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal a watch that looked expensive, clean, completely out of place in this mess of a night.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here, drinking like this?” he asked casually, his tone almost… amused.

Did he just call me pretty?

My mind was racing, the alcohol clouding my thoughts, but it was the nerve of this guy that hit me the hardest. This brat, sitting across from me, acting like I was some damsel in distress. He wasn’t any different from my cheating fiancé. I didn’t have time for this. I didn’t want anything from him.

“I don’t know you,” I muttered, my voice shaky but still filled with defiance. “Just give me back my drink.”

But he didn’t budge. His hand still gripped the glass firmly, not even an ounce of hesitation in his gaze.

“I’m Adrian and you've had enough,” he said, his voice low but firm.

Oh, now he was playing the caring stranger?

The anger flared again, hotter this time, but I was too drunk to think clearly. All I knew was that I needed to forget everything. This was just a distraction, a way to make the pain in my chest stop.

I hesitated, my vision swimming. Then I let out a slow, defeated breath and pushed myself up from the stool. My legs were unsteady, but I forced myself to stand.

He didn’t touch me, but he moved closer, just enough to guide me through the bar and toward the exit. He didn’t say a word, but his presence felt like a strange kind of support, even though I didn’t want it.

The night air hit my face like an icy slap, but it didn’t clear my mind. It just made the world feel even more distant.

He opened the car door for me. I got in without a word, slumping into the seat, too tired to argue.

The drive was quiet, the hum of the engine a lullaby that made me want to close my eyes and forget everything.

After what felt like hours, the car finally came to a stop.

He stepped out first, then opened the door for me.

“Can you walk?” he asked, his voice soft but insistent.

I nodded weakly, holding onto the door for balance before stepping out. My legs wobbled, but I followed him inside.

The place was calm. Quiet. A stark contrast to the chaos I had just left behind.

He led me down a short hallway and opened a door. “This is the guest room,” he said, his voice low.

I walked in slowly, like a stranger in my own body. I sank onto the bed, my hands resting in my lap as I stared at the unfamiliar room.

“…Thank you,” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, turning slightly, ready to leave.

“Don’t go,” I said quickly, the words soft but pleading.

He paused, glancing back at me with an unreadable expression. “You need rest.”

“I know,” I replied, pushing myself up slightly, moving closer. “Just… stay for a bit.”

There was a long silence between us, thick with hesitation. He didn’t move, but the distance between us felt like it was closing, even if he didn’t step forward.

I reached for him, my fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of his sleeve.

“Please…” I whispered.

His breath hitched slightly, but his gaze held mine, unwavering. For a moment, I thought he might turn me away, but then he exhaled, a slow breath, and his eyes softened.

“We shouldn’t—” he began, but before he could finish, I leaned in and kissed him.

And then everything happened too fast, too frenzied, the night spiraling into a blur. I couldn’t keep up with my own thoughts, couldn’t make sense of anything anymore.

When I finally opened my eyes, the room was still. Silent.

I felt a deep, bone-deep tiredness, as if I’d slept too long.

For a moment, I stared at the ceiling, trying to piece together the fragments of the night. The bar. The drive. The room. It all felt distant.

I turned my head slowly.

He was beside me, still asleep.

My heart gave a painful tug, but I forced it back.

I stayed still, letting the memory of the night sink in like ink, and then my phone vibrated on the nightstand.

I reached for it and saw the message that chilled me to the core.

It wasn’t Daniel, It was my father.

“Aria, come home now. Something has happened.”

I stared at the screen, my mind racing, my grip tightening around the phone. What could it be? What happened?