Married to the Enemy's Son

Elena Hart had never seen her father cry. Not when her mother left, not when his company faced its first lawsuit, not even when he sold her childhood home to keep the business alive.

But this morning, she saw it.

He sat slouched behind his desk, shoulders bent under a weight she couldn't see. The man who once commanded boardrooms with ease now looked like a ghost, tired eyes, trembling hands, silence thick in the air between them.

"I've done everything I could" he said, voice barely above a whisper. "But there's nothing left."

Elena shifted in her chair. "What about the appeal? You told me it was still being processed."

"It was dismissed. Maddox's lawyers crushed it. They're going after the patents now."

The words hit like bricks. Elena swallowed the rising dread in her throat. She glanced at the cluttered desk-foreclosure notices, court threats, legal letters. Each document a nail in the coffin of Hart Innovations.

"How much do they want?"

Her father looked up slowly. "It's not about money anymore. It's about control."

Then he reached into a drawer and slid a white envelope across the table.

Elena opened it, confused-then froze.

It was an invitation.

To the union of Jace Alexander Maddox and Elena Grace Hart.

Her heart stopped. "You can't be serious."

"I wish I were'nt."

"They want me to marry the son of the man who destroyed you?"

He nodded, once.

"That's sick."

"It's the only deal they're offering. They made it very clear, it's either this, or prison."

She pushed the chair back and stood. "You told me you'd never ask this of me. You said"

"I know what I said," he cut in. "And I meant it. But this... this isn't about pride anymore. This is survival."

Her pulse raced. "What kind of man arranges a marriage like a business merger?"

"Jace isn't like his father, he said, eyes dark. He's more calculated, but less cruel."

Elena scoffed. "That's hardly a comfort."

He gestured to the envelope. "He's agreed to a private meeting. Tonight."

Her mouth went dry. "And if I refuse?"

His silence was the answer.

The rooftop bar was buzzing with people, but Elena barely registered the noise. Her best friend Mia had dragged her out to "breathe." Breathing, however, felt impossible.

"You've been gnawing your straw like it insulted you," Mia said.

"Long day," Elena replied.

"You mean hellish day?"

Elena didn't answer.

Mia leaned closer. "There's a guy at the end of the bar who's been staring at you for the last ten minutes."

"Not interested."

"Tall, dark suit, expensive watch. Your type, whether you admit it or not."

Elena turned her head-just a glance.

And there he was.

Tall, sharp-jawed, dark-haired. Leaning casually against the bar with a whiskey in hand. His eyes met hers and didn't flinch. Calm. Controlled. Watching.

He raised his glass slightly.

Elena looked away, heart pounding harder than she wanted to admit.

She didn't plan on talking to him. But thirty minutes later, she found herself two seats down, drink in hand, his gaze pulling her in.

"I don't usually do this," she said.

"Do what?"

"Talk to strangers in rooftop bars."

"I'm not a stranger," he replied.

She laughed, nervous. "You're definitely a stranger."

He turned to her. "You'll know who I am soon enough."

She tensed. "Is that a threat or just arrogance?"

"Neither. Just... inevitable." His voice was smooth, steady, almost careful.

"You have a name?" she asked.

"Jace."

The name hit her like a slap.

He watched her reaction, unbothered.

"Jace Maddox," he added, as if confirming what she feared.

Her throat tightened. "You knew who I was."

"I did."

"You wanted to meet me like this? Off-script?"

"I wanted to see you without the walls up."

She stood abruptly. "I don't need a script to know how this ends."

He didn't follow her as she walked to the elevator.

But her chest ached with something she couldn't name-something too sharp to be curiosity and too heavy to be hate.

As the elevator doors closed, Elena looked up one last time and found Jace still watching her, smiling like he already owned her.