Love Between Two Enemies Part Two

Lines Drawn in Blood

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PART TWO – LINES DRAWN IN BLOOD

Some wars were loud.

They came with shouting, gunfire, headlines splashed across newspapers.
Others were quieter—waged in boardrooms, whispered threats, contracts signed in ink that carried more poison than blood.

The war between the Ashfords and the Morettis belonged to the second kind.

And Ethan Ashford was standing directly in its path.


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The morning after the gala, New York looked deceptively peaceful.

Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Ethan’s penthouse, glinting off glass towers and moving traffic far below. The city was alive, indifferent, unaware that generations of hatred had shifted slightly off balance the night before.

Ethan stood barefoot near the window, coffee growing cold in his hand.

He hadn’t slept.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her.

Isabella Moretti.

Her voice—steady, intelligent.
Her eyes—dark, guarded, alive with something that challenged him.
The way she’d said “This is a mistake”… and stayed anyway.

He exhaled slowly.

“This can’t happen,” he muttered to himself.

His phone buzzed.

FATHER.

Ethan didn’t answer immediately. He already knew why his father was calling. News traveled fast in their world—especially bad news.

On the third buzz, he answered.

“You embarrassed this family last night,” his father said without greeting.

Ethan closed his eyes. “Good morning to you too.”

“Don’t get clever,” Richard Ashford snapped. “I saw the photos.”

Photos. Of course.

“There are cameras everywhere,” his father continued. “You were seen talking to her.”

Ethan’s jaw tightened. “Talking is not a crime.”

“To a Moretti, it is.”

Silence stretched between them.

“Stay away from her,” his father said finally. “This is not a request.”

The line went dead.

Ethan stared at the phone.

For the first time in his life, obedience didn’t come naturally.


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Across the city, Isabella Moretti was fighting her own battle.

The Moretti estate felt colder that morning. The marble halls echoed with tension, and every glance her family threw her way carried accusation.

Her mother watched her over breakfast, worry etched into her face.
Her younger brother avoided her eyes completely.

Her father didn’t sit down.

“You humiliated us,” he said, standing at the head of the table like a judge.

Isabella set her fork down carefully. “By speaking?”

“By forgetting who you are,” he replied sharply. “And what they did to us.”

She met his gaze. “What exactly did they do, Father?”

The question landed harder than a slap.

His eyes darkened. “Enough.”

“No,” Isabella pressed, her voice calm but firm. “You’ve told me the story my entire life—but never shown me proof.”

His hand slammed onto the table. “You will not question me.”

She rose slowly. “Then you will not control me.”

The room froze.

That was when he delivered the real blow.

“You will marry Luca DeSantis.”

Her breath caught. “What?”

“The engagement will be announced next week,” he said coldly. “The DeSantis alliance will protect us.”

Protect us—from the Ashfords, he didn’t need to say.

Isabella’s chest tightened painfully. “You can’t do this.”

“I already have.”


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Luca DeSantis was everything Isabella feared.

Polished. Calculated. Smiling without warmth.

He arrived that evening with flowers and promises, kissing her hand like she was already owned. She smiled back, playing the role expected of her, while her mind screamed.

Because somewhere deep inside, uninvited and dangerous, lived the memory of Ethan Ashford.


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Three days later, fate struck again.

Ethan hadn’t planned to be at the municipal archives. He hadn’t planned on digging through dusty records and forgotten contracts.

But something had been gnawing at him.

A memory from childhood—his father yelling, lawyers arguing, a single word repeated over and over:

Riverside.

The Ashfords had acquired Riverside land decades ago. The Morettis had claimed it was stolen.

Ethan pulled a thick folder free and began to read.

And then his blood ran cold.

There it was.

A clause buried deep within an old joint venture contract—signed by both families.

If evidence surfaced proving unethical acquisition, both families would lose the land.
To the city.
Permanently.

Mutual destruction.

“No,” Ethan whispered.

The truth was worse than hatred.

It was shared guilt.


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He didn’t know why he went to her.

He only knew he couldn’t not.

That night, Isabella slipped away from a suffocating dinner and found herself standing in a quiet private garden behind a historic townhouse.

And then she saw him.

Ethan stepped from the shadows like a secret she’d been trying to bury.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said immediately.

“I know.”

“You really don’t.”

“I do,” he replied. “And I came anyway.”

Her heart betrayed her, pounding hard.

“Why?” she demanded.

“Because we’re both being lied to.”

That stopped her.

He told her everything.

About the contract. The clause. The truth no one wanted exposed.

She listened in silence, her face pale, her hands clenched.

When he finished, she whispered, “They ruined each other… and blamed the other side.”

“Yes.”

A laugh escaped her—bitter, broken. “Our families are monsters.”

“Maybe,” Ethan said quietly. “But we don’t have to be.”

She looked at him then—not as an enemy, not as temptation—but as an ally.

And that was far more dangerous.


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Their meetings became secret.

Late nights. Hidden corners of the city. Conversations layered with tension and restraint.

They argued. They laughed. They uncovered pieces of the past together.

And slowly, against all logic, something intimate began to form.

One night, standing too close, breathing the same air, Ethan reached out—then stopped himself.

“This is a bad idea,” he said hoarsely.

Isabella’s voice was barely a whisper. “Then why does it feel like the only honest thing in my life?”

He didn’t answer.

He kissed her.

The world tilted.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful.

It was hunger restrained for too long.

When they broke apart, breathless and shaken, reality rushed back in.

“This changes everything,” she said.

“Yes,” he agreed. “And it might destroy us.”


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The next morning, headlines exploded.

ASHFORD INDUSTRIES UNDER INVESTIGATION

Someone had leaked partial information.

Someone wanted war.

And that evening, Isabella received a ring she hadn’t agreed to wear.

The engagement announcement was scheduled.

The trap was closing.


In Part Three: “The Engagement Trap”

Isabella is forced to stand beside a man she doesn’t love.
Ethan is pushed to choose between loyalty and truth.
And when the past finally speaks through an unexpected witness…

One family will strike first.