Contract Marriage With My Enemy

I woke up to the sound of muffled shouting coming from my guest room.

Not exactly the peaceful morning I'd hoped for after surviving my first night as Mrs. Jason Whitman. My apartment was still freezing—the heating system had given up completely sometime around 3 AM, leaving me to shiver under a thin throw blanket I'd found in my closet.

The shouting got louder.

"MMPH! MMMPH!"

I sat up, my breath visible in the cold air. That didn't sound like Jason's usual morning routine of aggressively making coffee and slamming cabinet doors. It sounded like...

"What the hell?" I muttered, padding down the hallway in my fuzzy socks.

I pushed open the guest room door and froze.

Jason sat in the middle of the bed, his wrists bound behind his back with what looked like industrial-grade zip ties. A designer Hermès scarf—definitely not mine—was tied around his mouth as a gag. His dark hair was disheveled, his expensive pajamas wrinkled, and his eyes were absolutely murderous.

On the nightstand sat a pristine white envelope with "Mrs. Whitman" written in Patricia Whitman's perfect penmanship.

"MMMPH!" Jason's eyes darted frantically between me and the envelope.

I picked up the note, my hands shaking slightly as I opened it.

*Dearest Stephanie,*

*Marriage requires communication, and you two clearly need encouragement to start talking! We've provided Jason as a captive audience for your first real conversation as husband and wife. The zip ties are quite secure—we had them custom-made. Consider this our wedding gift to you both.*

*With love and high hopes,*

*Patricia and Richard*

*P.S. - The scarf is vintage. Please don't damage it.*

I stared at the letter, then at Jason, then back at the letter. "Your parents literally gift-wrapped you and delivered you to my bedroom."

"MMMPH MMPH MMMPH!" His response was emphatic, if unintelligible.

"Oh, this is rich." I walked around the bed, examining his restraints with growing amusement. "How did they even get in here? Did they drug you?"

Jason's glare could have melted steel. He jerked his head toward the window, where I noticed the fire escape ladder was still extended.

"They came through the fire escape? In designer suits?" I laughed, the sound echoing through the cold room. "Your mother climbed a fire escape in Louboutins to zip-tie you to my guest bed. That's commitment to the cause."

He made another muffled sound that was definitely profanity.

That's when inspiration struck. Pure, beautiful, revenge-flavored inspiration.

I pulled out my phone and opened Instagram Live.

"Good morning, beautiful people!" I said, angling the camera to catch both Jason's horrified expression and my own gleeful face. "Welcome to another episode of 'Handsome Strangers of NYC,' except today we have a very special guest who's not exactly a stranger."

Jason's eyes went wide with panic. He shook his head frantically, making desperate noises behind the gag.

"This is my brand-new husband, Jason Whitman," I continued, moving closer so the camera could capture his bound state in all its glory. "And he seems to have gotten himself into a bit of a... situation."

The viewer count was climbing rapidly. Fifty. A hundred. Five hundred.

"MMMPH! MMMPH! MMMPH!" Jason was practically vibrating with rage.

"Now, Jason here has been very naughty," I said, adopting the tone of a kindergarten teacher. "He stole my blanket last night and left me to freeze. So I think he owes me an apology, don't you?"

The comments were already flooding in:

*OMG what is happening???*

*Is this real???*

*QUEEN STEPHANIE*

*Call the police!!!*

*This is the best content ever*

I held the camera closer to Jason's face, his furious brown eyes filling the screen. "But here's the thing, folks. I'll cut him loose... if he calls me 'sister.' Just once. That's all I need."

Jason's response was a string of muffled words that definitely weren't "sister."

"Tsk, tsk." I shook my head at the camera. "Such language. And in front of all these nice people, too."

The viewer count hit 10,000. Then 20,000. The comments were coming so fast I could barely read them.

*This is ICONIC*

*Marriage goals???*

*FREE JASON*

*MAKE HIM SAY IT*

*Best wedding content ever*

"Come on, Jason," I cooed, zooming in on his increasingly desperate expression. "Just one little word. 'Sister.' It's not that hard. Watch my lips: Sis-ter."

He glared at me with the intensity of a thousand suns.

"Still nothing?" I turned back to the camera. "What do you think, everyone? Should I leave him like this? Maybe order some breakfast and eat it in front of him?"

The comments exploded:

*DO IT*

*Make him suffer*

*Order pancakes!*

*This is better than Netflix*

50,000 viewers. 75,000. The notification sounds were going crazy.

"Actually," I said, pretending to consider, "maybe I should call his mother and thank her for the thoughtful gift. I'm sure she'd love to know how much I'm enjoying her surprise."

That did it. Jason's eyes went wide with genuine terror at the thought of his mother seeing this video.

"Mmm-er," he mumbled behind the gag.

"What was that?" I leaned closer, holding the phone so the camera caught every detail of his reluctant surrender.

"Mmm-er!" he said more clearly, the word distorted but recognizable.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't quite hear that. Could you say it one more time for the people in the back?"

His jaw clenched, but he repeated it: "Mmm-er!"

"Close enough!" I announced to my now 100,000+ viewers. "Ladies and gentlemen, my husband has admitted defeat!"

I ended the live stream and immediately went to my camera roll to save the video. This was going straight to my highlights reel.

"You're insane," Jason said the moment I untied the gag, his voice hoarse. "Completely, certifiably insane."

"Says the man who stole my blanket on our wedding night." I worked on the zip ties with a pair of kitchen scissors, being deliberately slow about it. "Besides, your parents started this. I'm just finishing it."

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" He flexed his wrists as the restraints finally came free, red marks visible where the plastic had dug into his skin. "That video is going to be everywhere. My business partners, my clients—"

"Should have thought of that before you declared war on my comfort items." I backed toward the door, keeping the scissors between us just in case. "Besides, you looked good on camera. Very... vulnerable. Your female followers are probably swooning."

He stood up slowly, his expression shifting from fury to something more calculating. "You think this is over?"

"I think this is just getting started." I gave him my sweetest smile. "Welcome to married life, husband. Hope you're ready for digital warfare."

I left him standing in the guest room, already pulling out my phone to order breakfast. The comments on my saved video were still pouring in, and my follower count had jumped by thousands.

Maybe this marriage wouldn't be so bad after all. At least not for my social media engagement.

From the guest room, I heard Jason muttering something about "revenge" and "two can play this game."

I grinned and opened DoorDash. Time to order the most elaborate breakfast spread I could find and eat it very, very loudly.