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Married to My Enemy's Son
Married to My Enemy's Son
Autor: Precious

Chapter one : wrong bed , wrong man

Autor: Precious
last update Fecha de publicación: 2026-06-06 19:28:06

Morning.

Nadia Verne's eyes fluttered open, and her first sensation was a wave of soreness throughout her body. Instinctively, she looked down and realized she was completely bare, with even her underwear missing. She glanced around the room. She seemed to be the only one there. The bright red stains on the sheets and the scattered clothes of both a man and a woman on the floor told her everything she needed to know about the night before.

What on earth had happened?

She had only been a bridesmaid. How did it end up like this?

Her breath quickened as she shot up from the bed, cold sweat breaking out on her back. She grabbed her phone from the nightstand and called her best friend, Sienna.

"You were so drunk last night you could not tell up from down, so I had no choice but to bring you to the suite the bride had prepared—room 2208. What's up?"

"Is there anyone else in the room besides me?"

"Who else could there be? It's just you. I have things to take care of right now. I'll call you back."

Nadia's hand dropped slowly as she closed her eyes, her mind swirling, a loud ringing echoing in her head.

"Get the clothes ready and send them to room 2210." A deep voice came from the direction of the bathroom.

There was another person in the room?

Startled, Nadia looked up. A man leaned casually against the bathroom doorframe, his toned body wrapped in a white bathrobe, one shoulder propped against the wood like he owned the air around him.

"Why are you here?" Her voice came out steadier than she felt.

Wasn't he the groomsman from yesterday's wedding?

Sienna had said she was the only one in the room. So how did he end up here?

"Well..." Caiden Wolfe appeared somewhat indifferent, a cold smirk playing on his lips as he watched her shock settle into something sharper. "Your acting skills are good enough to land you a role."

"What do you mean by that?" Nadia frowned.

Caiden narrowed his eyes, sizing her up slowly, his gaze turning icy. "First, you drew my attention. Then you sneaked into my room while I was drunk. I can't deny it—the whole setup was well-executed."

Nadia suppressed the heat rising in her chest, her expression going cold. "Are you sure you're not delusional? Maybe you should see a doctor."

The light in her eyes shifted dangerously. Caiden moved to the couch, crossed his long legs, and lit a cigarette.

"You'll be rewarded for your efforts. Since you put in so much work last night, you can have something in return. Tell me what you want."

"You're seriously delusional."

The smoke drifted toward her. Nadia coughed once, pulled the blanket tighter around herself, and asked, "What's your room number?"

Caiden shifted into a more comfortable position and looked at her with mild interest. "2210."

She picked up the room phone and dialed reception, putting it on speaker.

"Could you please tell me my room number?"

The front desk staff paused, briefly and politely bewildered. "Hello, dear guest. Your room number is 2208."

2208. Caiden's body stiffened, just slightly, just for a moment—quick enough that most people would have missed it.

*That damn Leo.*

Nadia's anxiety dissolved the instant the words came through the speaker. She set the phone down and looked at him.

"Mr. Wolfe." Her tone had completely changed—no longer uncertain, every word landing clean and deliberate. "How do you explain this? Your acting was impressive and the arrangements were very convenient. Don't you find it a little ridiculous?"

She stood straight and met his eyes. His sharp jawline gave him an almost chiseled appearance, a particular kind of masculine precision. But his eyes were deep and dangerous, the kind that made people feel a mix of unease and restlessness.

She held his gaze anyway.

"Shouldn't we avoid jumping to conclusions before everything is clear? I am the victim here, not you. Given your earlier remarks, don't you think you owe me an apology?"

She was still working out exactly what she would do if he refused—she was prepared to pursue it, whatever it took—when his voice cut through her thoughts.

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

Caiden extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray, tilted his chin slightly, and rubbed his forehead. "I'm sorry. I was too drunk last night and ended up in the wrong room."

She had braced for a fight. The apology arrived instead, simple and without decoration, and making a scene now would only make her look unreasonable. That was never her style. She valued reason over conflict and she wasn't going to let this morning become a spectacle—not at Sienna's wedding.

There was nothing more to say. What had happened was an unchangeable reality. All she wanted now was to leave.

She grabbed her underwear, slipped under the covers, and quietly got dressed.

Caiden's gaze fell on the lump in the bed, squirming like a caterpillar under the sheets. A slight smile crossed his lips. "What do you do for a living?"

The squirming paused. Her voice came out muffled. "I'm a teacher."

"I see. When you called the front desk earlier, you seemed unsure about who was at fault. But once you had your answer, that demanding tone was very much like a teacher handling a student who had misbehaved."

His eyes stayed on the blanket. Nadia said nothing and moved faster.

When she finally came out from under the covers, her cheeks were flushed and beads of sweat dotted her forehead. As her feet touched the floor her legs wobbled—she caught herself against the bed, and her eyes landed on the red stain on the white sheet.

She went still.

The contrast was stark. Jarring. Real.

Caiden followed her gaze. His expression stayed lazy, almost indifferent. "Since this was my fault, I'll make amends. Feel free to name what you want." He paused, studying her. "Reconstructing your hymen is something I can certainly arrange."

Nadia held her breath. Her chest rose and fell. Through her teeth, she said one word.

"Pervert."

She strode toward the door, nearly out of the suite, when his hand caught her wrist from behind.

"Is there something else?" She turned, anger clear in her eyes.

"Take the emergency contraceptive."

A man in a sharp suit knocked, received permission, and walked in. He set down the clothes and a small pharmacy bag without making eye contact.

Taking the contraceptive after a night like this was basic sense. Even if Caiden hadn't sent his assistant for it, she would have picked it up herself once she got home. Since it was already here, there was no reason to refuse.

She followed the instructions, took it, then walked to the door and stopped.

She turned around, and there was something almost amused in her voice when she spoke.

"Does your charm rival a superstar's, Mr. Wolfe? Or does it simply outshine money?" She tilted her head slightly. "You are charming—but aren't you a little overconfident?"

Caiden paused. His long fingers stilled on the button of his shirt. For the first time in recent memory, he had absolutely nothing to say.

After a moment his gaze deepened. With unhurried ease, he finished buttoning his shirt, the dark silk catching the morning light, and said nothing at all.

Nadia was already gone.

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  • Married to My Enemy's Son   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

  • Married to My Enemy's Son   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

  • Married to My Enemy's Son   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

  • Married to My Enemy's Son   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

  • Married to My Enemy's Son   Chapter Ten: Two Lines

    Six days. Nadia had been counting the delay without meaning to, tracking the calendar in the back of her mind like a clock ticking in an empty room. She convinced herself it was stress. People missed periods when they were stressed. That was normal. She held onto that explanation for six consecutive days. But on the morning of the sixth day, she woke up a full hour before her alarm. She lay flat on her back, staring up at the dark ceiling, recognizing the cold weight in her stomach for what it actually was. Lying in bed wasn't going to make the reality go away. She got up. She showered, made a mug of black tea, and stood by the kitchen window. She drank most of it mechanically, watching the fog clear from the glass. When she left the apartment, she walked right past her usual bus stop. The January air was sharp, turning her breath into white plumes, but she kept walking until she reached the main road to catch a completely different route. She had mapped this out carefully.

  • Married to My Enemy's Son   Chapter Nine: The Debt

    The number Amara sent on a Thursday morning was not a number Nadia had been prepared for. She read the message twice. Then she set her phone face down on the staffroom table and sat very still for a moment, looking at the wall. The debt had been creeping up for months—she knew that. She had been cutting back, sending what she could spare, and draining her account while convincing herself that Amara would finally see reason. She had managed to pretend the situation would stabilize on its own. It had not. The debt had finally stopped pretending it could wait. She picked up her phone and called Amara. Three rings. Voicemail. She tried again. Voicemail. She put the phone in her pocket and went to teach her first class of the day with the focused composure of a woman who had learned a long time ago that you did not bring your personal disasters into a classroom. After school she sat at her desk and did the calculation she had been avoiding. Her savings. Her monthly salary. The apartmen

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