Hers was a sacrifice dressed in white silk and expensive lace, a white lie that no one would believe, least of all the man waiting for her at the altar. Every step towards him was a step towards a golden cage, a bright future in the eyes of the world, but empty of everything that mattered. She was selling herself to save them all, becoming the wife of a man who not only loved her, but despised her deeply.

This was not a wedding, it was the most elegant and cruel execution of all his dreams. The mirror reflected back a stranger, a pale woman, her eyes too big and bright from the tears she refused to shed, in a wedding dress that cost more than her parents’ house.

Elena swallowed, the lump in her throat so tight it hurt to breathe. The satin was cold against her skin, as heavy as the decision she had made weeks ago. Behind her, her mother, Laura, adjusted the veil with trembling hands, her own eyes reddened. “You look beautiful my girl,” Laura whispered, and her voice broke. “So beautiful, you will be a wonderful wife.” The words were kind, but they felt like daggers. A wonderful wife for a man who considered her a mere object, an addendum to a business contract.

Elena forced a smile, a tense grimace that didn’t reach her eyes. Thank you, Mom. She felt like a traitor, an actress in a macabre play. She was marrying Ricardo Montero, the tycoon, the most powerful and feared man in the city, and she was doing it for one reason only: to save her family. to save the family business, the garden of memories, the flower shop that his grandmother had founded and that was now drowning in debts that were impossible to pay. And more importantly, to save his little brother Mateo, whose illness required very expensive treatments that had exhausted every penny of his savings.

The deal had been brutally simple, presented by Ricardo’s father before he died and executed by Ricardo himself with a coldness that drew blood. He would save his father’s company from bankruptcy, cover all of Mateo’s medical expenses for as long as necessary, and in return Elena would become his wife. An exchange, a transaction, she was the price. His father, a good man, but defeated by circumstances, had explained it to him with his eyes on the ground.

 

It’s the only way, Elena. Ricardo Montero can solve everything. He’s a good man. But Elena had met Ricardo Montero in the only meeting they had to seal the pact and had not found an ounce of goodness in his dark and calculating gaze. He had examined her as if he were valuing a horse or a work of art with an insulting distance before giving his icy consent. Okay, I agree to the terms. We’re getting married in a month.

Not one more word, not a gesture of cordiality, only the cold and hard acceptance of a deal that for him was a necessary nuisance. Her mother’s touch brought her out of her thoughts. It’s time, baby. His heart skipped a violent beat. He looked at himself one last time. The perfect girlfriend, the perfect lie. As he left the room, he found his father, wearing the somewhat large suit and the expression of a man who is taking his daughter to the slaughterhouse.

Her eyes silently asked for forgiveness, a forgiveness that she granted her because she knew that she was doing it out of love for her family. He offered her his arm. “You’re the bravest woman I know,” she murmured. And that simple phrase almost made her break, but she didn’t. He straightened his back, lifted his chin and walked towards the church, towards his destination, towards Ricardo Montero. The nupsal march began to sound and the huge doors of the church opened. Hundreds of faces turned to look at her, faces of high society, friends and associates of Ricardo.

She knew almost no one. They felt like wolves watching a lamb. At the end of the corridor, under an arch of white flowers ironically arranged by his own florist, he was waiting. Ricardo was a man who stole the breath, there was no denying it. Tall, with broad shoulders that filled his custom-made tuxedo, perfectly combed black hair and a strong, defined jawline. But it was his eyes that intimidated her. they were such a dark brown color that they looked black.

And at that moment, as she walked towards him, they were empty of all emotion. I watched her approach with the same expression with which one looks at a distant landscape, without interest, without warmth. His father handed his hand to Ricardo. The contact was like an electric shock. Ricardo’s hand was large and warm, but his grip was firm, possessive, as if he were taking something that rightfully belonged to him. He didn’t give her a single look. His attention was fixed on the priest.

The ceremony was a blur. The priest’s words about love, honor, and fidelity sounded like a mockery. She said yes, I accept in a barely audible whisper, feeling the weight of that lie on her soul. Ricardo, for his part, said it in a clear and strong voice, the same one he would use to close a multimillion-dollar deal. He was firm, determined, and completely impersonal. When the priest said, “You can kiss the bride,” for an instant panic paralyzed her.

Ricardo turned to her, his eyes finally meeting his. He saw a spark of something, irritation. From it she bent down, and her lips brushed hers. It was a chaste, brief and terribly cold kiss, a simple rose for the cameras and the guests, devoid of any feeling. Applause erupted around her, but to Elena it sounded distant and distorted. She felt trapped in a bubble of ice. It was done. It was Mrs. Montero. The reception was held in the most luxurious ballroom of the most expensive hotel in the city.

Everything was opulence and excess. Crystal chandeliers, live orchestras and mountains of food that she couldn’t even taste. Ricardo moved among the guests with an ease and confidence that showed that this was his world. Elena followed him at his side, a smiling shadow, the perfect doll on his arm. He introduced people to them with a simple, distant formula: “Meet my wife Elena.” And she smiled, nodded, and said the right words.

It felt like his body was there, but his mind and soul had stayed at the door of the church. For a moment she crossed paths with Ricardo’s mother, Isabel Montero, an elegant woman with a stern look who examined her from top to bottom with barely concealed disapproval. “I hope you understand the position you are in now, girl,” he said in a low, sharp tone. The surname Montero demands a certain standard. Don’t let us down.

Elena could only nod, feeling even smaller and insignificant. The only person who showed him a little kindness was Ricardo Lucia’s younger sister. She was young, cheerful, and seemed genuinely content. “Welcome to the family,” he said, hugging her enthusiastically. “Don’t listen to my brother, he’s a grump, but deep down he has a heart.” Elena seriously doubted that last part. Then it was time for the first dance. The orchestra began to play a slow bals and Ricardo led it to the dance floor.

His hand on his back was a firm, controlling pressure. His other hand held his with the same lack of tenderness. They moved in silence, a silence charged with a tension that no one else seemed to notice. To the world they were the perfect couple, but in their little universe of two, the air was fraught with resentment. Elena dared to look him in the eye. “Are you satisfied?” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “Your family has bought their security.” “Is that what I wanted to know?” Ricardo’s eyes darkened.

He leaned a little more, his warm breath brushing against his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. Don’t pretend this is a tragedy just for you. I didn’t choose this either. Smile for the cameras, Elena. It’s the least you can do after what this circus has cost my family. Your father wasn’t the only one who had to swallow his pride. His voice was a soft poison meant just for her. He held her a little tighter.

I’m doing my end of the bargain. Don’t expect him to feign happiness, she replied with a courage she didn’t know she had. A crooked, cold half-smile appeared on Ricardo’s lips. I expect absolutely nothing from you, only obedience. Remember your place. The song ended and he let her go as if burning, leaving her alone in the middle of the dance floor before turning to talk to a group of businessmen. Elena felt humiliated and furious.

The night dragged on endlessly. Finally, after hours of fake smiles and empty conversations, Javier, Ricardo’s best friend and right-hand man, reached out. Ricardo, it’s time to go. The car is waiting. Ricardo nodded briefly and approached Elena. We’re leaving. He didn’t offer her his hand, he just turned around and waited for her to follow him like a dog. They said goodbye to their parents. Her mother hugged her tightly, whispering loudly, “My love.” His father simply gave him a kiss on the forehead, the guilt evident on his face.

Then she got into the luxurious black car that would take her to her new life, to her new prison. The trip to Ricardo’s mansion was made in a deathly silence. Elena looked out the window at the lights of the city, feeling more alone than ever. The house, or rather the mansion was in the hills overlooking the entire city. It was a masterpiece of modern architecture, glass, steel and white concrete, surrounded by meticulously manicured gardens.

It was impressive and as cold and impersonal as its owner. A housekeeper greeted them at the door. Welcome, Mr. Montero. Welcome, ma’am. Ricardo ignored her. You can retire, Martha. We’ll take care of it. They passed through an immense lobby with a double-height ceiling and a spiral staircase that seemed to float in the air. His footsteps echoed in the polished marble. Everything was sleek, minimalist, and completely devoid of warmth. There were no family photos or personal items. It looked like a museum, not a home.

Ricardo walked up the stairs without saying a word. They entered what was clearly the master suite. It was huge, with a kinis bed in the center, a private balcony overlooking the city lights, and designer furniture. The air was charged with an almost unbearable tension. This was the moment he had dreaded the most. The wedding night. He stood in the middle of the room, motionless, not knowing what to do or what to expect. Ricardo took off his tuxedo jacket, threw it carelessly on a chair and loosened his tie.

A glass of whiskey was then poured from a glass decanter. He drank it in one gulp and poured himself another. Finally he turned to her. He looked over it from head to toe, pausing at the elaborate dress. His expression was one of pure disdain. Elena felt her heart pound in her chest. Their hands, cold and sweaty, clung to each other. “Take off that dress,” he said. His voice was low and harsh.

A command, not a request. Elena was paralyzed. Fear, raw and icy, took hold of her. He couldn’t move, he could barely breathe. Was it? Was he going to consummate this false marriage by force? He saw the panic in her eyes and a cruel smile was drawn on her face. Don’t panic. I’m not going to touch you. He walked slowly toward it like a predator stalking its prey. The smell of whiskey and his expensive male cologne enveloped her. It was overwhelming.

He stopped right in front of her, so close that he could feel the heat emanating from her body. This marriage, his voice continued, a dangerous whisper. It is a contract, a farce to the outside world. To me, you don’t exist as a wife. He raised a hand and with the tip of a finger brushed the lace of his shoulder. The contact made her shudder from head to toe. It was not a touch of desire, but of contempt. This fabric, this white, is a lie.

We both know it. Don’t pretend to be an innocent girlfriend who comes to me full of dreams. You’re a woman who sold out and I’m the man who was forced to buy from you. The words hit her with the force of a slap. The tears she had held back all day burned in her eyes, but he refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing her cry. He lifted his chin. If you despise me so much, why did you accept this deal? Because my father, on his deathbed, bound me to his stupid promise to your father.

Because total control of my own company depended on this sacrifice. He spat out the word. But make no mistake, I’ve kept my end of the bargain. You are Mrs. Montero in the eyes of the law and society. But in here, he gestured across the room. You’re nothing to me in here. He turned away from her and pointed to a door in the opposite wall. That’s your room. It’s as big and luxurious as this one. You have your own bathroom and your own dressing room.

This is mine. Don’t walk through that door unless the house is on fire. In public we will act like a devout couple. Behind these walls we are strangers. Got it? Elena, voiceless, could only nod. The relief that he wouldn’t force her into anything was mixed with the deepest humiliation she had ever felt. It felt like an object, an expensive piece of furniture that he had bought, but didn’t want to see. Good,” he said, turning his back on her and walking to the balcony, saying goodbye.

“Now go. I don’t want to see you.” Without saying another word, Elena turned. With all the dignity she could muster, she walked toward the door he had indicated, her dress rustling against the marble floor. Closing the door to her new room behind her, she finally collapsed. He leaned against the cold wood and silent, hot tears began to roll down his cheeks. She was safe from him physically, but she realized that her heart and pride were in much greater danger.

Her marriage was a lie and her life a cell. The first morning at the Montero mansion was strange and desolate. Elena woke up in a huge bed, alone, in an unfamiliar room that smelled of fresh, new paint. Sunlight filtered through the automatic curtains, revealing a space decorated with exquisite taste, yet impersonal. There was not a single personal touch, not a photo, not a book. It was like a luxury hotel room, one you stay in just passing through.

He showered in the marble bathroom, as large as the living room of his old house, and dressed himself in the clothes that had been brought from home, which were already perfectly hung and folded in the dressing room by someone invisible. The feeling of being a guest, an intruder, was overwhelming. He walked downstairs with a heavy heart, not knowing what to expect. The silence of the house was almost total, only broken by the soft hum of the fridge. He found the kitchen, a shiny modern space where an older woman with gray hair pulled back in a bun and a friendly smile was brewing coffee.

“Good morning, Mrs. Montero,” said the woman. “I’m Carmen, the housekeeper. Fancy breakfast?” The man has already gone to the office. The mention of Ricardo as the lord made her feel even stranger. Just a coffee, please, Carmen. And call me Elena. As you tee, sir. Elena. Carmen poured him a steaming cup of coffee and pointed to a table in a sunny corner overlooking the garden. The Lord left this for you. On the table was an envelope.

With trembling hands he opened it. Inside was a platinum credit card and a terse note written in Ricardo’s sharp, purposeful handwriting for your expenses. A chaotered car is at your disposal. My assistant will call you to schedule any social events you need to attend. Don’t embarrass me. Not a good morning, not a kind word, just cold, transactional instructions. Elena clenched her jaw. Don’t embarrass me. As if she were a child to be watched.

He spent the rest of the day wandering around the immense house, feeling like a ghost. The mansion was beautiful, but empty. It had a swimming pool, gym, a library full of books that seemed to have never been read and a home cinema. He had everything money could buy and still felt poorer than ever. In the afternoon the loneliness and inaction became unbearable. He needed air. I needed something familiar. Carmen, could you ask the driver to take me, to my family’s flower shop?

Of course, Elena. I’ll let Mark know right now. The trip back to his neighborhood was like traveling to another world. He left behind the hills of the rich with their high walls and security cameras and returned to the bustling, lively streets he knew. As the luxurious black car pulled up in front of the garden of memories, Elena felt the first pang of relief of the day. The small shop, with its green-painted façade and pots overflowing with colorful flowers, was his true home.

As she entered, the familiar scent of roses, lilies, and damp earth enveloped her like an embrace. “Elena,” her father exclaimed coming out of the back room. Their eyes lit up at the sight of her, but there was a shadow of worry in them. “What are you doing here, daughter? It’s all right? Everything is perfect, Dad. I just wanted to stop by to say hello and see how things were. She gave him a hug, clinging to him tighter than necessary. At that moment, the bell on the door rang again and Daniel entered.

Daniel was a childhood friend, now a talented landscaper who often collaborated with the shop. He was tall, with an easy smile and friendly eyes the color of honey. He had always had a soft spot for Elena, something everyone knew, but never talked about. Elena, wow, I didn’t expect to see you. I heard the news. Congratulations, he said, although his smile did not quite reach his eyes. There was a note of sadness in his voice. “Thank you, Daniel,” she replied, feeling like a fake.

“You are. You look amazing. Married life suits you. It was a lie. He had dark circles under his eyes and felt like a mess, but he appreciated the compliment. His father had to attend to a customer leaving him alone. And how are you really?” asked Daniel quietly, his expression filled with genuine concern that contrasted brutally with Ricardo’s coldness. Elena felt the lump in her throat form again. I wanted to break down and tell him everything, the humiliation, the loneliness, the fear, but I couldn’t.

I had made a deal. I’m fine, really. It’s a big change. That’s all. Daniel nodded, though he evidently did not believe her. Well, if you ever need to talk or just sneak away for coffee and reminisce about old times, you know where to find me. He reached out and squeezed his gently. Its touch was warm and comforting. At that precise moment, Elena realized that her smile was sincere for the first time in days. Laughing at a silly joke Daniel made about one of the plants, a moment of normalcy in the midst of his chaotic new life.

What I didn’t know was that at that exact moment a black car with tinted windows was slowly passing down the street. Inside, Ricardo Montero was on his way to a meeting in that area of the city. He saw his company car parked outside the modest flower shop. On an impulse she didn’t understand, she told her driver to stop for a moment and then she saw her. Through the window he saw Elena, his wife, and he saw her not as the tense, pale figure at the wedding, but as a relaxed woman, laughing openly, and he saw her with a man, a man who was looking at her with unabashed adoration, holding her hand.

Ricardo did not feel jealousy, not in the traditional sense. He didn’t want her. What he felt was something darker, more primal, a twinge of possessive anger. That was Mrs. Montero, his wife, and she was there in a seedy store flirting with a nobody. The image of her smile, a smile he had never seen directed at him, etched into his mind. It was an affront, a violation of the bargain. He had ordered him not to embarrass him and this was exactly that.

“Aranca,” he said sharply to his driver. The car slid silently, but Ricardo’s cold rage began to boil. That night he would pay for his little indiscretion. That night would remind him exactly who he belonged to. When Elena returned to the mansion that afternoon, she felt a little lighter. The visit to the store and the conversation with Daniel had given her a break, a reminder that there was still a part of her that wasn’t Mrs. Montero.

He met Carmen, who informed him that Mr. Montero had called to say that he would be late, not to wait for him for dinner. Elena felt a wave of relief. She dined alone in the huge dining room, a delicious meal she barely tasted. Then she retreated to her room, put on comfortable pajamas, and snuggled up in bed with a book, hoping that sleep would come soon. But after midnight, the sound of the front door slamming shut startled her.

He heard their heavy footsteps and determined to climb the stairs. His heart began to pound. Then a silence waited, holding his breath until a sharp, authoritative knock sounded at the door that connected their rooms. He was startled. Don’t go through that door unless the house is on fire, he had told her. What did he want? He got out of bed, put on a robe, and walked toward the door with trembling feet. Ricardo, open the door. Elena. His voice was hard, with no room for negotiation.

She turned the handle and opened it. Ricardo was standing in the doorway. He had taken off his tie and unbuttoned the first buttons of his shirt, and his hair was slightly messy. He smelled of whiskey again, but this time his eyes weren’t cold. They were burning. They burned with an icy fury that took her breath away. Without waiting for an invitation, he walked into his room, his presence filling the space instantly, making him seem small and claustrophobic. He closed the door behind him with a definite click.

Did you have fun today? he asked. His voice was a low, dangerous murmur. Elena took a step back. What are you talking about? Don’t play dumb with me, Hiss, by coming up to her. I saw you in that shop of yours with that man. The way he pronounced the word man was loaded with poison. Surprise and fear were reflected on Elena’s face. Did you see us? I was alone. You were laughing, flirting, letting him touch you. He interrupted her, his voice turning up.

In front of everyone, the brand new Mrs. Montero acting like any other woman on a corner. “And that’s not true,” she exclaimed, the injustice of the accusation igniting her own anger. “Daniel is a friend, a lifelong friend and he wasn’t doing anything wrong.” “A friend,” Ricardo sneered, now just inches away from her. He was so tall, so imposing. Elena had to tilt her head back to look at him. The way he looked at you wasn’t that of a friend and the way you smiled at him.

She paused and his gaze swept over her face, his dark eyes filled with an intensity that frightened her and at a very deep and confused level fascinated her. That smile is not part of our deal. You don’t give it to him. You don’t give it to anyone, but me, when we’re in public and I order you to. His arrogance was astonishing. You don’t own my smiles, Ricardo. The defiance in his voice seemed to infuriate him even more.

In one swift motion, his hand closed on his arm. His grip was made of steel, it didn’t hurt him, but it was an unmistakable demonstration of power. Don’t provoke me, Elena. I may not care about your body, but your name, your image are now mine and I will not tolerate you staining them. The warmth of his hand pierced the fabric of his robe and pajamas, burning his skin. The proximity of his body, the intensity of his gaze, the smell of his skin, all conspired to create a strange mixture of fear and a sharp, vibrant awareness of him as a man.

I wasn’t staining anything,” she insisted, her voice a tense whisper. “And you don’t have the right to break into my room?” And he leaned even more, his face inches from hers, his warm breath on his skin. “I have all the rights. This house is mine. This room is mine. And you,” his eyes dropped to his lips for a fleeting instant. “You are mine. Even if it doesn’t touch you, even if it pretends you don’t exist, don’t forget it for a second.

Every part of you belongs to me now. His words were cruel, possessive, but spoken in that low, hoarse whisper, they had an unexpected effect on her. A shiver that wasn’t just scary ran through his body. She saw something in her eyes, a dark flame, a raw possessiveness that was almost animalistic, and she realized, with a paralyzing terror, that this intensity attracted her. Perhaps it was the first genuine emotion he had shown her, even if it was anger. He saw her tremble, he saw the bewilderment and something else in her eyes.

His gaze fell back on her lips and for a second Elena held her breath, convinced that he was going to kiss her. The air crackled between them, thick and heavy. But then, as if realizing what he was doing, his expression hardened again, becoming a mask of ice. He let go of her as roughly as he had grabbed her, stepping back as if she were burning him herself. Don’t see me with him again,” his voice ordered, regaining its cold edge.

“Stay away from him, that’s your only warning.” He turned around, walked to the connecting door, and opened it. Before leaving, he stopped and looked over his shoulder at her. And this door is kept closed. Don’t open it for me again. Next time I won’t be so restrained. And with that veiled threat, he went out and slammed the door shut, leaving her alone, trembling, with a wild heart and the phantom mark of her fingers on her arm.

The war had only just begun. Ricardo’s words echoed through the room long after the door slammed shut, leaving Elena trembling in the center of her luxurious cage. His threat, next time, I won’t be so restrained, was repeated in his mind like a sinister echo. The initial anger he had felt at his unjust accusation had dissolved into a sea of confused and terrifying emotions. On the one hand, there was humiliation, fear of his power, and his volatile temper.

But on the other hand, underneath all that, there was a spark of something else, something she was ashamed to admit even to herself. The intensity of his gaze, the warmth of his hand on his arm, the way his body had reacted to his proximity, was a betrayal of his own senses. She hated him, despised him for what he represented and how he treated her, but her body didn’t seem to get the message. She got into bed, but sleep eluded her for hours.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his, dark and furious, and felt the ghost of his touch. The next morning, the same atmosphere of icy silence reigned, but now it was burdened with the unresolved tension of the night before. She went down to breakfast hoping to find him, prepared for a new battle or for the most absolute indifference. he found Carmen in the kitchen, but Ricardo had already left. Mr. Montero left before dawn. Elena said the kind housekeeper passing her a cup of coffee.

He seemed in a hurry, in a hurry to avoid her safely. On the table, again, an envelope. His heart sank waiting for another cold note. Instead he found two tickets to the city’s Hospital Annual Charity Gala, the most important social event of the year, which would be held over three days. Next to the entries, a note with the same impeccable handwriting. My assistant has scheduled an appointment for you at the best boutique in town this afternoon. Buy what you need.

I will wait at the main entrance at 7 o’clock on Saturday. Be punctual. It was once again an order. My trail of last night’s fury, just the cold, efficient businessman. Elena spent the next two days in a state of anxiety. He followed his instructions like an automaton. She went to the boutique, where the saleswomen treated her like royalty, helping her choose a spectacular sapphire silk dress that hugged her curves and left her shoulders exposed.

She bought sky-high heels and discreet, but incredibly expensive, jewelry. As she did so, part of her felt guilty for spending so much money, but another, a small, rebellious part, enjoyed choosing the most stunning dress possible, not to please him, but to feel like an armor herself. If it was to be displayed as a trophy, at least it would be a dazzling trophy. During those days he did not see him. She ate alone, explored the huge library, and spent hours in the back garden trying to find a corner of peace.

At night he heard the front door close at a late hour and his footsteps heading straight to his room, without stopping, without hesitation. The silence between their rooms was louder than any discussion. On Saturday night, it took Elena two hours to get ready. The dress was as beautiful as she remembered, and with her hair pulled back in an elegant low bun and subtle makeup, but highlighting her eyes, she hardly recognized herself in the mirror. She looked like one of those magazine women, confident and sophisticated, but inside her stomach was a knot of nerves.

At 7 o’clock he descended the great staircase. Ricardo was waiting for her in the lobby. He wore a black tuxedo that fit him like a glove, accentuating his height and the width of his shoulders. Her black hair was slicked back, and the light from the chandeliers reflected off the expensive watch on her wrist. When she appeared at the top of the stairs, his eyes fell on her and for an instant the world seemed to stop.

He slowly scanned it up and down. His expression was indecipherable, but Elena could see a tension in his jaw. For a moment, a small part of her waited for a compliment, a simple word of acknowledgment. But Ricardo Montero was not that kind of man. When he reached the last step, he simply stretched out his arm. “We are late.” That was all he said. With his deep voice and without emotion. She took his arm, the fabric of his soft tuxedo under his fingers.

The contact was formal, but he still felt an electric shock as it brushed against his skin. Their proximity was overwhelming. The drive was silent. Elena kept her gaze fixed on the city lights as she felt Ricardo’s eyes on her from time to time, a heavy, intense gaze that made her skin crawl. When they arrived at the hotel where the gala was being held, a horde of photographers was waiting for them. The lights of the flames exploded around him.

Ricardo, Mr. Montero, a photo with your wife. Instinctively, Elena shrank, but Ricardo’s hand landed on her lower back, a firm, possessive gesture that anchored her to his side. He leaned over, his warm breath brushing against his ear as he whispered, “Smile, remember the deal.” And she did. He lifted his chin, curled his lips into a perfect smile, and looked at the cameras. Her hand on his arm looked like the gesture of a wife in love.

To the world they were the image of happiness and power, a perfectly executed lie. Once inside, the great hall was packed with the city’s elite. Businessmen, politicians, celebrities, all dressed in their best clothes. Ricardo led her through the crowd with a natural confidence, his hand never leaving her back. He greeted people with a nod, a professional smile, introducing Elena over and over again. Let me introduce you to my wife, Elena.

Each time she smiled, shook hands and said the right phrases, feeling like a beautifully decorated accessory. They were accosted by an older man with silver hair and sly eyes. Ricardo, boy, I heard about the wedding. “My congratulations,” said the man, patting him on the back. And this must be the lucky one. I am Augusto de la Torre. He took Elena’s hand and kissed her, but his eyes evaluated her with a coldness that reminded him of Ricardo.

“A pleasure, Mr. de la Torre,” Elena said. de la Torre is my father’s main competitor,” Ricardo whispered in his ear as they walked away. “Be careful with him and even more so with his son.” Just at that moment, a younger man, incredibly handsome and with a charming smile that seemed too perfect to be true, stood in her way. “Ricardo, what a surprise to see you here and I see that you have brought your beautiful acquisition.” The word was spoken in a soft tone, but it was a direct jab.

Ricardo’s body tightened under Elena’s hand. Victor, Ricardo said, his voice was pure ice. Elena, I introduce you to Víctor Ramos, the son of our business partner, Augusto. Víctor Ramos ignored Ricardo completely and focused on Elena. He took her hand, but unlike his father, his kiss was longer. His warm brown eyes never left hers. Delighted, Elena. I’ve heard a lot about you, but the rumors don’t do you justice.

You are absolutely stunning. Thank you, Mr. Ramos, Elena said, feeling uncomfortable with the intensity of his gaze and withdrawing her hand gently. Ricardo’s hand on his back tightened almost painfully. Ricardo, always so fortunate in business and now, it seems, in everything else, Victor continued. His smile never wavered. I hope you appreciate what you have. A beauty like this is rare. The implicit insult was clear. You don’t deserve it. I know exactly what I have, Ramos,” Ricardo replied, his voice low and threatening.

He placed his other hand on Elena’s, which rested on his arm, covering it with his own in a distinctly possessive gesture. “And do I know how to take care of what’s mine now if you’ll excuse us?” Without waiting for an answer, Ricardo guided her to the table they had been assigned, pulling her away from Victor with barely concealed urgency. Once seated at a table with other tycoons and their wives, Ricardo leaned toward her, his face a mask of controlled fury. Don’t talk to him.

Don’t look at it. Got it. I haven’t done anything, she whispered, offended. Really, you smiled at him. You let me kiss your hand. It is a courtesy. I wasn’t going to be rude to him. Yes, you’ll be as rude as it takes. I don’t want it to come near you. During dinner, Elena felt Víctor Ramos’ gaze on her from the other side of the room. It was an appreciative and bold look and made her feel extremely uncomfortable. Ricardo seemed to feel it too because his mood darkened even more.

He spent dinner responding in monosyllables to the people at his table, his attention divided between conversations and his wife’s vigilance. When the dances began, Ricardo got up and held out his hand. We have to dance. It is what is expected. He took her to the dance floor and as at the wedding he took her in his arms, but this time it was different. He held her much closer. His hand on her back burned through the silk of the dress and his body was a wall of tension against hers.

They moved to the slow beat of the music, surrounded by other couples who whispered and laughed. Between them, the silence was deafening. “He’s been staring at you all night,” Ricardo finally said. His voice a hoarse murmur close to his ear. “I know, it’s making me uncomfortable,” she admitted. For some reason, that confession seemed to surprise him. His grip loosened a fraction. So, stay away from him. I’m trying. You’re the one who has me practically glued to you, she replied in a frustrated whisper.

A shadow of a smile, the first he had seen in a long time, crossed his lips. It was a cynical smile, without joy. It’s exactly where you need to be. so that it is clear to him and to everyone else. The close contact, the rhythm of the music, the warmth of her body, everything was starting to affect Elena. I could smell his cologne, a fresh, masculine mixture, and feel the muscles in his back move under his hand. It was disturbingly intimate. She looked up to find him staring at her.

His expression was no longer just one of anger, but of a dark and complex intensity that he could not decipher. His eyes dropped to his mouth. “Stop looking at me like that,” she whispered, her heart pounding. Just as he answered, his voice even deeper. As if you were my property. I am not anyone’s property. He seemed to like his challenge. Wrong. Your last name is now Montero. You’re mine. The music ended and just as they were separating, Víctor Ramos appeared next to them.

Ricardo, if you don’t mind, I’d like to have the honor of a ball with your lovely wife. Before Ricardo could glare at him, Elena, remembering his manners, felt the need to be polite. Oh, that’s very kind of you, but I’m a little tired. But Ricardo interrupted her. No, he doesn’t care. he said, letting go of Elena. His eyes, however, sent him a silent, deadly warning. Victor offered his hand to a surprised Elena.

She looked at Ricardo for help, but he just stood there with his arms crossed and a stone-like expression watching. Obligatory. Elena took Victor’s hand and let herself be guided to the track. “Is he always so possessive?” asked Victor with a smile as they began to dance. Ricardo is protective, Elena replied, choosing her words carefully. Call it what you want. I’d call him a fool for letting a woman like you dance with another man,” he whispered, pulling her a little closer than strictly necessary.

“He should have you chained to his side.” The comment sent a shiver down her spine. “Mr. Ramos, I don’t think that conversation is appropriate. Please call me Victor. And you’re right, let’s talk about something more appropriate, like how unhappy you look. Elena froze. Excuse me, your eyes. You have the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen in my life and a smile that doesn’t reach them. That marriage of yours is a business deal, right? Panic took hold of Elena.

Who told him that? No one needs to tell me. I see it in the way he looks at you, not as a wife, but as an investment. And I assure you that I know how to recognize a bad investment when I see it. He looked at her with a false compassion that made her sick. He tried to pull away, but his hand on his back held it in place. I don’t know what he’s talking about. I love my husband. Of course. And if you ever get tired of loving him and his gilded cage, let me know.

I’d like to show you how a real woman is treated. On the other side of the track, Ricardo couldn’t hear the conversation, but he could see everything. She saw Victor’s hand on Elena’s back. He saw how she bent down to whisper in her ear and saw the expression of panic and anguish on his wife’s face. And something inside him broke. The rage he felt was not cold and calculating as usual. It was hot, red, and violent.

Before the song ended, he crossed the dance floor with long, determined strides. He grabbed Victor by the shoulder and pulled him away from Elena with a force that made the other man stumble. “The dance is over,” growled Ricardo. Victor’s smiling face was finally erased, replaced by a grimace of anger. Be careful, Montero. Your manners leave much to be desired, and your interest in my wife is about to cost you your teeth. Stay away from her.

He grabbed Elena by the wrist. His grip was like a shackle. We’re leaving. He dragged her off the dance floor, ignoring the curious looks and whispers of the guests. He didn’t stop to pick up his things or say goodbye. He led her out of the living room through the hall and into the cold night, where he barked an order to a surprised valet to bring his car. He put her in the passenger seat indelicately and slammed the door shut.

Then he circled the car, sat behind the wheel and ripped the wheels screeching on the asphalt. The silence in the car was a thousand times worse than any scream. Ricardo gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white. His jaw was so tight that it looked like it was going to break. Elena, for her part, was trembling. A mixture of fear for Ricardo’s outburst and Disgust for Victor’s words. What the hell did he tell you? Ricardo finally asked. His voice was a low, restrained growl, without taking his eyes off the road.

Nothing, she lied. I didn’t want to give him any more ammunition. He struck the steering wheel with the palm of his hand, a sharp and violent blow that made her jump. Don’t lie to me, Elena. I saw your face. You were scared. He said. He said that our marriage seemed like a business, that I seemed unhappy. Ricardo said nothing for a long minute, the car devouring the dark road. And you agreed with him. Isn’t it? With that look of a beaten puppy. “Of course not!” she exclaimed, anger finally overcoming fear.

“What did you want me to do?” “To slap him in the middle of the dance floor?” “Yes, or that you came to me. You are my wife. You should have looked for your husband. “My husband threw me into his arms and my husband hates me and makes it clear to me every second of the day. she screamed, tears of frustration finally welling up in her eyes. You can’t treat me like a housekeeper and then expect me to act like a devoted wife in public when it suits you.

His outburst left him silent. He drove the rest of the way to the mansion without saying another word. When they arrived, he didn’t wait for her to open the door. He got out, circled the car, opened his door, and pulled her arm with the same urgency with which he had taken her out of the ballroom. He took her inside the house by kicking the front door shut. “You don’t know anything, Hiss. ” Finally turning to face her in the cold light of the hall.

You know nothing about men like Víctor Ramos or the world you have just entered. Think about being a weak point. My weak point. And you, with your innocence and your smiles to anyone who says a nice word to you, you are confirming it. I’m nobody’s weak point, she replied, trying to free herself from his grip, but he was too strong. He pulled her closer, his other arm circling her waist, pinning her against his body.

The surprise of the move took his breath away. Their bodies were glued from chest to knee. He could feel the warmth emanating from him, the furious beating of his heart against his. His face was inches from hers, his dark eyes burning with an emotion he had never seen before. It wasn’t just anger, it was something deeper, more raw. “Oh no,” he whispered. His voice was a harsh caress. “Do you know what it cost me not to break his face right there?

Seeing him put his hands on you, whispering in your ear. The smell of whiskey on his breath was light, mixed with something that was purely him. His gaze fell to his lips, which were parted with surprise. Elena gasped. He forgot about Víctor, about the treatment, about the humiliation. All that existed at that moment was Ricardo’s overwhelming presence, the cage in his arms, the fire in his eyes. He, he didn’t touch me, she stammered, her own voice a whisper.

He touched your hand, he touched your back. Too much, he said. This skin, her free hand climbed up from her waist, her fingers brushing the sensitive skin of her bare back down the neckline of the dress, sending shivers down her entire body. It’s mine. These shoulders, his fingers traced the curve of his collarbone. They are mine. His eyes met hers again, a silent and desperate battle. Do you understand, Elena? Mine and I do not share what is mine. And then, before she could process the words, before she could breathe, he lowered his head and his mouth slammed into hers.

It wasn’t a tender or romantic kiss, it was a kiss of pure possession. It was furious, hungry, an act of reclamation. His lips were hard and demanding, moving against hers with a desperation that surprised her. One of his hands tangled in his hair, tilting his head back for better access. His other hand pressed it against him so hard that he couldn’t move. For an instant, Elena stiffened with shock, but then something broke inside her.

The frustration of the last few days, the pent-up anger, the lonely longing, and that strange, undeniable attraction she felt for him, all exploded. He stopped fighting. His hands, which had been pushing on his chest, slid up and clung to his shoulders and he kissed her back with the same desperation, with the same fury, it became a battle, a struggle of will fought with their mouths. Her tongue worked its way through, probing, exploring, mastering, and she let him respond with a total surrender that seemed to surprise even him.

The kiss deepened, becoming wetter, more disordered, more primitive. Ricardo lifted her off the floor, pushing her against the nearest wall, his body imprisoning hers. The sound of her silk dress brushing against the plaster echoed in the silent hall. The world vanished. There was only the taste of him, the strength of his body, the overwhelming feeling of being desired in a way so raw and elemental that it stole his breath. Just when he thought he was going to waste away, as suddenly as he had begun, he stopped.

He pulled away abruptly, leaving her panting, her lips swollen and her heart about to pop out of her chest. He stared at her, his own chest rising and falling rapidly, his dark eyes filled with a mixture of shock, desire, and self-loathing. Lust still clouded his expression, but the cold mask of control was already struggling to get back into place. He slowly lowered her until her feet touched the ground, but he did not let go. His hands were still on his waist.

His breath continued to mix with hers. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was that of their heavy breathing. “Don’t get confused again,” he finally said. His voice was a hoarse whisper. “This doesn’t change anything.” And letting go of her as if her skin were burning, she turned and climbed the stairs two by two, without looking back, disappearing into the darkness of her own wing of the mansion. Elena was left alone, trembling, leaning against the cold wall.

He brought a trembling hand to his lips. I could still feel it. The heat, the pressure, the taste of his rage and his desire. It doesn’t change anything. His words were cruel, a desperate attempt to regain the control he had lost. But they both knew it was a lie. Something fundamental had changed between them. The wall of ice that separated it had cracked and through that crack a fire had seeped that threatened to consume them both. The cold wall against her back was the only thing keeping Elena up.

She put her fingers to her lips, still tingling, feeling the echo of Ricardo’s kiss like a burn. It had been an act of aggression, of possession, an eruption of jealousy so raw and violent that it had taken her breath away. But beneath the fury she had felt something else, a desperation, a need that attracted and frightened her in equal measure. And worst of all, the most embarrassing part was that his own body had responded. It had burned under his touch, surrendered to the storm.

This doesn’t change anything. The words he had thrown out as one last shield before fleeing echoed in the silent hall. A lie. They both knew it. Everything had changed. The invisible line they had drawn between them, the fragile peace of their mutual indifference, had been shattered. He had tasted a part of her and in doing so had awakened a hunger that Elena did not know existed. Slowly, as if his legs didn’t belong to him, he climbed the stairs. Every step was an effort.

She did not go to her own room, but stopped in front of the closed door of it. For a long minute, he stood there with his hand raised, not daring to knock. What would you say to him? What would you demand of him? An explanation? An apology? I knew I wouldn’t get either. With a trembling sigh, he dropped his hand and entered his own room. He did not sleep that night. He sat by the window, watching the dawn dye the sky over the city pink and orange, and he realized a terrifying truth.

Hating Ricardo Montero had been simple, easy, but fearing the part of herself that had responded to him, that was hell. The next morning the house was in a silence even heavier and more oppressive than usual. It was the silence after an explosion filled with invisible debris and unresolved tension. Elena went down to the kitchen with her heart in her fist, dressed in simple jeans and a sweater, an armor against the formality of her new life.

Carmen was there as usual, but even the kind housekeeper seemed to feel the charged atmosphere. “Do you want your coffee, Elena?” he asked quietly, almost reverently. Yes, thank you, Carmen. He sat down at the table mentally preparing for the confrontation. I expected Ricardo to come in at any moment with his usual mask of cold indifference firmly in place and to act as if the night before hadn’t happened. But he didn’t. The minutes turned into half an hour.

Carmen, Mr. Montero is gone, he finally asked, unable to bear the uncertainty any longer. Carmen nodded without looking her in the eye. Yes, ma’am. He left very early. Before the sun rose, he left a note saying that he has an unexpected business trip. He will be away for a few days. A business trip. Elena felt a twinge of something that looked dangerously like disappointment, followed immediately by anger. He was fleeing. The powerful, controlling man, the man who had cornered her against a wall and kissed her senseless, was running away like a coward because he had lost control for an instant.

The humiliation was mixed with a strange, twisted sense of power. It had affected him. He had managed to break through his impenetrable armor. For the next three days, the mansion felt bigger and emptier than ever. Elena tried to keep herself busy. He called his parents assuring them that everything was fine. A lie that tasted bitter in his mouth. His brother Mateo was responding well to the new treatments and that news was the only ray of sunshine in his gloomy world.

He tried to read in the library, but the words got mixed up on the page. She swam in the pool until her muscles ached, trying to exhaust the nerve energy that consumed her. But every night, as she lay down in her lonely bed, the memory of that kiss came back in full force again and again. He wondered where he was, what he was doing. I was thinking about her. The idea was both ridiculous and addictive. On the fourth day, while he was in the garden trying unsuccessfully to take an interest in the roses, he heard the sound of a car in the driveway.

It was a courier service. A young man handed her a long, elegant box tied with a satin ribbon. There was no sender card. Intrigued, she took it inside and opened it on the dining room table. Inside, on a bed of tissue paper, was a dazzling necklace, a thin white gold chain from which hung a single deep blue sapphire of the same color as the dress she had worn to the gala. It was the most exquisite jewel he had ever seen.

There was no note, but I didn’t need one. I knew whose it was, Ricardo. It was a peace offering, a silent apology, or just another way to mark his territory, a reminder that he could buy it with expensive trinkets. She was looking at the jewel, lost in thought when Carmen entered the dining room. “Oh, how beautiful, Elena,” she said, her eyes shining with admiration. “The gentleman has excellent taste.” At that moment the doorbell rang. “It must be another messenger,” Carmen said going to open the door.

Elena heard voices in the hallway and then Carmen’s footsteps returning, but she was not alone. Behind her, with a charming smile and a huge bouquet of white lilies in his arms, was Víctor Ramos. Elena’s heart skipped a beat. She jumped up from her chair, her necklace still in her hand. “What are you doing here?” asked his voice, sharper than he intended. Please call me Victor,” he said, his smile widening as he advanced toward her, completely ignoring the confused Carmen.

I was in the neighborhood and I couldn’t resist the temptation to come and see how you were after your husband’s hasty departure the other night. “These are for you,” he offered the flowers. Lilies were Elena’s favorite flowers. A detail that deeply disturbed her. How did he know? How did you get my address? Elena, I am a man with resources. In addition, the address of the famous Ricardo Montero is not exactly a state secret. He said lightly. I shouldn’t have come.

My husband. Your husband is not here. He interrupted her, his eyes sweeping the room and pausing on the box of open jewels on the table. Wow, wow, a gift of guilt. A beautiful sapphire for a beautiful woman. But I wonder if you know that lilies are your favorite. I do know. How? She whispered, feeling a chill. I have done my homework, he admitted, scoundrel. I’ve talked to a few people from your old life. I’m fascinated by everything about you, Elena. Especially your waste in the hands of a man like him.

He took a step closer. Elena instinctively backed away, crashing against the table. Please leave right now. Her smile faded slightly, replaced by an intensity that frightened her. I just want to talk. I want you to know that there are other options, that you don’t have to live in this golden prison. At that precise moment, the front door burst open and closed with a roar that echoed throughout the house. Ricardo was standing at the entrance to the dining room.

He wore the wrinkled suit of his trip without a tie, and had dark circles under his eyes with tiredness, but his eyes were wide awake and burning. They went from Victor’s smiling face to the bouquet of flowers, to the box of jewels on the table, and finally to Elena, who was pale as a ghost, caught between the two men. The silence thickened, vibrating with violence about to explode. But look who we have here,” Ricardo said. His voice was a frighteningly quiet murmur.

“The rat has come out of its sewer and found its way to my house.” Victor didn’t flinch, in fact, he smiled. “Montero, you are back early. I was just bringing some flowers to your lovely wife.” She seemed a little lonely. The provocation was deliberate, designed to light the fuse and it worked. In two anchors, Ricardo crossed the room. He didn’t bother to talk. His fist slammed into Victor’s jaw with a dull, sickening sound. Victor staggered backwards, falling onto a chair that shattered under his weight.

The flowers scattered on the ground. Elena screamed, putting her hands to her mouth. Carmen stifled a scream and backed away into the kitchen. Ricardo did not plead Elena, running towards him and grabbing his arm before he could throw himself back at Victor. The muscle under his hand was hard as a rock. Victor rose slowly, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. Its charming façade had shattered, revealing an expression of pure malice.

Always so primitive, Montero, can’t you stand a little competition? This is not competition, it is an infestation. Ricardo hissed, his body vibrating with rage. She turned slightly, just enough to stare at Elena with a fury that chilled her to the bone. You invited him. No, of course not. He has just arrived. I swear to you,” she said desperately. Ricardo studied her for a moment, his eyes searching for any trace of lies. Then he turned to Victor. Out of my house now.

And if I ever see you near my wife again, I swear to God that next time you won’t get up off the ground. This is not over, Montero! Victor said, adjusting his jacket. He looked at Elena one last time. a look that promised problems. Think about it, Elena. The cage doesn’t have to be forever. And with that he went, leaving behind him the smell of trampled lilies and a poisoned atmosphere. As soon as the front door closed, Ricardo turned to Elena.

The anger had not subsided. In fact, it seemed to have intensified. He grabbed the bouquet of flowers from the ground and threw it into the extinguished fireplace with a gesture of fury. “What the hell was he doing here?” “I’ve already told you. I don’t know.” He introduced himself without further ado. He was about to kick him out. When you arrived. Her gaze fell on the necklace box on the table. He grabbed it, slammed the lid shut, and threw it across the room, where it hit the wall and fell to the floor.

And this, you thought you could buy my forgiveness with jewelry. Buying your forgiveness. You kissed me and then ran away like a coward for three days, she screamed, fear finally giving way to her own fury. You come back here and the first thing you do is start punching like an animal and accuse me. You were accepting their flowers. You had it in my house. He was threatening me. And it scared me, she replied with tears of frustration stinging him in the eyes. She approached him so angrily that she no longer cared about the consequences.

But you didn’t stop to ask, did you? You didn’t stop to see if I was okay, you just assumed the worst of me as always. The truth in his words seemed to strike him. The rage in his eyes wavered, replaced by a hint of uncertainty. He looked at her, really looked at her, and saw her chest fluttering, her eyes shining with unshed tears, and her chin raised in trembling defiance. Did he hurt you? he asked. His voice was suddenly hoarse, lower.

“Not physically,” she whispered, but it scared me. He said he had been researching me. I knew that lilies were my favorite flowers. The color disappeared from Ricardo’s face. The idea that Victor had intruded into Elena’s life in her past seemed to affect him in a way that even Victor’s own flirtation had not achieved. Without thinking, he reached out and brushed a lock of hair from his face. His touch was surprisingly soft. “I didn’t know,” he admitted in a barely audible murmur.

The confession disarmed her. The great Ricardo Montero admitting a mistake. He seemed to realize what he had done, the intimacy of the gesture and withdrew his hand as if it had been burned. He took a step back, the distance re-settling between them, but the atmosphere had changed again. The first leg had dissipated, leaving only a crude vulnerability. I never wanted you to get involved in my problems with him,” she said, turning her back and walking to the window.

“The rivalry between my family and yours is old, ugly, it has nothing to do with you.” “Well, now it seems that he does,” she replied in a low voice, crossing her arms over her chest. They were silent for a long time, each lost in thought. Finally, Ricardo turned. His face was tired, fury completely replaced by deep exhaustion. I’m going to reinforce security. No one will enter here without my permission. You’ll be safe. He then pointed to the necklace box lying on the ground.

That wasn’t to buy anything, it was an apology. Before she could answer, he climbed the stairs, leaving her alone once again in the midst of the mess of her life. That night, for the first time, there was no silence in their rooms. Elena was in her bed trying to read when she heard the connecting door open. His heart soared. He sat up staring at the door. Ricardo appeared on the threshold dressed only in gray sweatpants with a bare torso.

He carried a tray with two cups. He couldn’t sleep, he said. His voice was calm. Do you want a tea? She was speechless for a moment. He just nodded. He went in, put the tray on the bedside table and handed her a cup. The heat from the porcelain seeped into his cold hands. He didn’t leave. Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed at a respectful distance and drank his own tea. Victor’s father and mine were partners, he said suddenly, looking at the cup in his hands.

My father trusted him blindly. Augusto de la Torre betrayed him. It almost led us to ruin. He stole our most important designs and built his empire on our backs. My father never fully recovered. He died feeling like a failure. Elena listened in silence, captivated. I was sharing something personal, something real. Since then there has been a cold war between us and Victor is like his father, but more twisted. Enjoy brain games. Attacking people where it hurts the most.

He looked up and his eyes met hers in the gloom. And now he thinks you’re my weak point. But you said it yourself. I’m nothing to you. Why would he care? Elena whispered. A shadow of a sad, crooked smile appeared on his lips. Because you are my wife. Why do you bear my name? For a man like him, that’s all that matters. He thinks that by destabilizing you he destabilizes me. And it is so. He dared to ask.

He stared at her for a long moment. His gaze so intense that she had to hold her breath. more than I would like to admit,” he finally confessed in a whisper. He put down his cup and moved a little closer to her on the bed. He reached out, not to grab it, but to take it from it. His fingers intertwined. His skin was warm and slightly rough, an unexpected comfort. I’m sorry I yelled at you, and I’m sorry I doubted you. The words were simple, but to him they meant the world.

I’m sorry you have to go through this, so do I, she whispered. He raised his hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles, a gesture so tender and out of place that it broke her heart. They remained like this, silently, simply holding hands. The barrier between them had not only cracked, it was crumbling brick by brick and in its ruins something new and fragile was beginning to grow. She realized that she didn’t want her to leave, she didn’t want to be alone again.

As if reading his mind, Ricardo made no move to leave. After a while, he leaned against the head of the bed next to him, still holding his hand. The space between them was small, but it was no longer filled with tension, but with a clear conscience. Eventually, the tiredness of the day got the better of Elena and her eyelids began to weigh down. She fell asleep like this, with her head resting on the pillow and her safe hand on his.

At some point in the night he woke up briefly. He was still there watching over his sleep and for the first time since she had put on that wedding dress, Elena did not feel like a prisoner in a golden cage. She felt protected. The following days marked a seismic shift in their relationship. Ricardo did not retreat again to his cold distance. On the night of confession he had opened a door and although neither of them dared to cross it completely, they left it ajar.

He insisted that she start taking self-defense lessons with an instructor he hired just in case, but there was something more to her insistence. It was his way of empowering her, of making sure she never felt helpless again. He started coming home earlier and they would have dinner together, not in the formal dining room, but in the kitchen, while Carmen finished her chores. They talked about trivial things at first, about work, about the news, about the books she read, but gradually the conversations became deeper.

She told him about her dream of expanding the florist, of creating unique floral designs for large events. He listened, he really listened, asking questions that showed he understood his passion. And in return, he told her about the challenges of running an empire, about the pressure of living up to his father’s legacy. He began to leave the connecting door between his rooms open at night. A simple gesture, but full of meaning. It was an invitation, a sign of confidence.

Elena found herself smiling more often. A real smile, not the one he used for the cameras. Sometimes his hands would accidentally rub against each other when the salt was passed and the electric shock was still there, but now it was not alarming, but exciting. One night, as they sat on the living room couch watching the news on TV, Ricardo turned to her. “My assistant found something,” he said quietly. “From Victor. ” He nodded. Not only has he been researching you, he’s been trying to bribe one of the junior executives at my company to get information about a project we’re working on.

The same project that we are supposed to secure at the Viñamar conference next week. Elena tensed. The conference we have to go to. Exactly. It is a very important contract. Augusto de la Torre wants him and they are playing dirty. The image of a stable and united couple is important for investors. That’s why I need you to come. I need us to be credible. Before, that request would have sounded like an order, as part of the deal. It sounded different now. It sounded like I really needed his help, his support.

Of course I’ll go, Ricardo. I’ll be by your side. His answer seemed to oblige. He moved a little closer on the couch. The glare of the television illuminated his profile. strong. Thank you, Elena. They were so close that she could feel the warmth of his body. The urge to lean over and kiss him was so overwhelming that he had to hold on to the cushion to control himself. He must have felt it too because his eyes darkened and his gaze fell to his lips. The air became thick.

He leaned slowly toward her, closing the small distance that separated him. Elena closed her eyes, her heart pounding in her chest, waiting for the touch of her lips. But just at that moment, Ricardo’s phone rang, breaking the spell. He cursed quietly and stepped aside to answer, leaving Elena with a racing heart and a stinging frustration. The trip to Viñamar became more than just a business trip. It felt like a test, the first test of their new, undefined relationship.

They stayed in a luxury suite overlooking the ocean, a paradise that contrasted with the war being waged in the boardrooms. This time, however, the tension in the suite was different. It was not hostile, but filled with an almost unbearable expectation. During the first night of the conference at the welcome dinner, they met Augusto and Víctor. Augusto was polite but cold, while Víctor looked at Elena with an intensity that made him uncomfortable.

But this time Ricardo did not react violently. Instead, he slid his arm around Elena’s waist, pulling her to his side, and deposited a kiss on his 100. The gesture was both a public demonstration of affection and a silent warning to Victor. It was so natural and convincing that even Elena was surprised to feel a blush spread across her cheeks. “You play your role very well,” she whispered to him later when they were just going up in the elevator.

“I’m not acting,” he replied quietly, not looking at her, but she saw the tension in his jaw. The air in the small elevator space crackled. When they entered the suite, Elena went straight to the balcony. She needed fresh air. The sound of the waves crashing on the shore was soothing. Ricardo followed her a few moments later, stopping beside her. Do you think we’ll make it? The contract, she asked, looking out over the moonlit sea. “I know my project, it’s superior to yours in every way,” Ricardo said.

But in business sometimes the best idea doesn’t win. It’s about perception, it’s about trust. He turned to look at her, his silhouette silhouetted against the hotel lights. Watching them look at you tonight showed them that I have something they can’t buy or steal. It showed them that I have something to protect. And what is that? A trophy wife. The old wound still hurt a little. He shook his head slowly. He moved closer until he was right in front of her, his hands meeting her hips.

Not a woman who is stronger than anyone, including me, gave credit to. A woman who stands up to me, who is not afraid to tell me the truth. A woman who sacrificed herself for her family. Her voice was a hoarse whisper, filled with an emotion she had never heard before. I was wrong about you, Elena. About everything. Tears welled up in Elena’s eyes. What now, Ricardo? He raised a hand and stroked her cheek with his thumb.

His touch was reverent. Now I don’t want to pretend anymore. He leaned over and kissed her. And this time there was no anger, no possession, no jealousy. There was only a tenderness that completely disarmed her, a silent question and a longing response. His lips were soft, moving against hers with a hesitation that broke his heart. She kissed him back, her hands going up his chest until they wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. It was a kiss of forgiveness, of acceptance, a kiss that promised everything.

When they parted, they were both out of breath. Ricardo leaned his forehead against hers. That first night he began in a breathy whisper. When I told you those horrible things, I was an idiot. The truth is that I saw you walking towards me in that church and for the first time in my life I felt terrified. You were beautiful and pure and I felt like a monster for dragging you into my world. Elena felt a tear roll down her cheek. And I saw you waiting at the altar, she confessed, and I hated you for taking away all my dreams.

But maybe, maybe you just had to give me a new one. He smiled, a genuine smile. Luminous that transformed his face completely. He lifted her in his arms and Elena laughed a sound of pure joy. He carried her inside by closing the balcony door with his foot and gently deposited her on the huge bed. He hovered over her, leaning on her elbows and looked into her eyes. Elena Montero said, trying her name as if it were new, I want this marriage to be real.

In every way. That’s what I want too,” she whispered. And under the soft moonlight streaming in through the window, with the sound of the waves as a soundtrack, they finally became husband and wife, not by contract or obligation, but by a love that had blossomed from the ashes of hatred and contempt, proving that sometimes the cruelest beginnings can lead to the most beautiful endings. But they didn’t know that across the hall Victor Ramos had just received a call.

He was the bribed executive of Ricardo’s company. “I got it,” the man said over the phone. “I have the proof you need to ruin it. And it’s not about the project, it’s about her.” Victor smiled in the darkness. The war was far from over. He was about to take it to a much more personal and destructive level. The next morning in Viñamar was like waking up to a new world. The sunlight streaming through the curtains seemed brighter.

The salty sea air smelled sweeter, and for the first time since she had married, Elena woke up wrapped in her husband’s arms. The heavy curtain of resentment and distrust that had defined their relationship had been completely lifted, replaced by a tenderness and intimacy so new and overwhelming that they both found it hard to believe they were real. Ricardo was awake, just watching her, his usual stern expression replaced by a softness that made him look years younger.

Good morning, Mrs. Montero, she whispered, her voice hoarse from sleep, as her fingers lazily traced patterns on her bare skin. “Good morning, my near-kidnapper turned husband,” she replied with a sleepy smile, snuggling more against the warmth of her chest. They stayed like this for what seemed like an eternity, talking in whispers, laughing quietly, discovering each other, not as adversaries in a contract, but as two people finding unexpected refuge in each other.

Stories were told of her childhood, her lost dreams and her secret fears. Elena learned that Richard’s cold façade was armor forged in the betrayal of those in the tower and the weight of the expectations of a wounded father. And Ricardo finally saw the strength and resilience beneath the apparent fragility of Elena, a woman who had sacrificed her own happiness for the love of her family and yet had not lost her ability to love.

I love you,” he said suddenly, the words coming out with a mixture of surprise and certainty, as if he had just discovered them in his own heart. Elena’s eyes filled with tears of happiness. And I love you,” she replied, sealing her confession with a deep kiss that spoke of forgiveness, new beginnings and a future that suddenly seemed limitless. Later that day, at the last crucial meeting of the conference, they walked into the boardroom hand in hand.

It was not an act for the cameras or a business strategy, it was real. Augusto de la Torre and Victor were on the other side of the long mahogany table, and Victor’s petulant smile faded a little at the sight of their evident unity. Ricardo’s presentation was brilliant, impeccable. He detailed his project with renewed passion and confidence, while Elena watched with a pride she didn’t try to hide. He felt part of his team, of his life.

When it was the turn of the tower to present it, it became clear that their proposal was inferior, based on inflated projections and with less innovation. It seemed that victory was imminent. It was then that Victor played his last card. Gentlemen, before you make your final decision, he said, standing up with a venomous smile. I think there is one aspect of Mr Montero’s stability that they should consider. The head of the consortium of investors, an older, conservative man named Mr. Thompson, frowned.

What do you mean, Mr. Ramos? I mean the very basis of his much-vaunted new happiness. Their marriage, Victor continued, taking a thin folder out of his briefcase. He opened it on the table. This marriage is not a union of love, it is a fraud, a coldly calculated business contract. Elena felt all the blood drain from her face. Ricardo’s heart began to pound under the fabric of his suit. “My sources,” Victor said looking directly at Ricardo, “have provided me with a copy of the original agreement signed between you and the lady’s father.

Well, now, Mrs. Montero, a document detailing the transaction, your daughter’s hand in exchange for the rescue of a bankrupt family business and the payment of medical bills, an agreement with a very specific clause that requires them to remain married for at least a year in order to be valid. A murmur ran through the boardroom. Mr. Thompson took the document Victor offered him, his eyes sweeping over the legal clauses. The humiliation was like a wave of icy water and for a moment, Elena felt transported to her wedding night, to the cruelty of Ricardo’s words.

She felt Ricardo’s hand squeeze hers under the table, an anchor in the middle of the storm. The question you must ask yourselves, gentlemen, Victor concluded, savoring his victory. Can they trust the future of their investment to a man whose personal life is based on such an elaborate lie? What other truths will he be willing to hide? There was a deathly silence. All eyes were on Ricardo. He got up slowly. His face was a mask of calm, but Elena could see the fury contained in his eyes.

He didn’t look at Victor, he looked directly at Mr. Thompson. Everything Mr. Ramos has said about the beginning of my marriage is true,” Ricardo said. And the collective gasp in the room was almost audible. Elena looked at him terrified. What was he doing? It is true that our marriage began as an agreement forced by desperate circumstances and promises made in the past. It’s a beginning I’m not proud of, a beginning that I apologized to my wife for in private and that I now apologize to in public.

He turned and looked at Elena, her eyes filled with love and regret so deep that they stole her breath. I attracted my world for the wrong reasons, but in the process I discovered all the right reasons to love her. She is the strongest, most loyal and bravest woman I have ever met. It has made me a better man. What started as a contract has become the strongest foundation of my life. he stopped looking at Elena and went back to addressing investors.

So they can question the origin of my marriage. But what you see here today, the man I am today, is a testimony not to my ability to deceive, but to my ability to recognize truth when I find it in business and in love. My relationship with my wife is not a lie, it is my greatest strength. Now they want to talk about the project or prefer to continue entertaining themselves with the gossip of a desperate man who knows that he has lost the silence that followed went to Tronador.

Mr. Thompson looked at the document in his hand, then looked at Elena’s radiant, defiant face and Ricardo’s resolute expression. He slowly closed the folder and handed it back to Victor. Thank you for your concern, Mr. Ramos,” the old man said with a curt coldness. “Now please sit down. We are here to discuss business, not the private lives of those present.” “Mr. Montero, continue.” Victor’s smile collapsed. His master plan had failed miserably. Not only had he lost the contract, but he had come off as a spiteful and mechine man.

Ricardo concluded the meeting and, as expected, they won the contract. As investors congratulated Ricardo, Augusto de la Torre grabbed his son by the arm and pulled him out of the room, his face dark with the fury of public failure. Back in the suite. The adrenaline of the battle finally dissipated. Elena threw herself into Ricardo’s arms, laughing and crying at the same time. “You were amazing,” she said with her face buried in her chest.

I thought all was lost. He hugged her tightly. I would never be as long as I have you. I told you. You are my greatest strength. I told the truth. That day marked the true beginning of their life together. They returned home not to a cold, silent mansion, but to a home. They filled the empty spaces with laughter, late-night conversations, and a passion that was only growing. Ricardo helped Elena realize her dream, investing in the garden of memories, transforming it into Elena Montero Floral Designs, the most exclusive event design firm in the city.

They worked together, supporting each other, their worlds of business and pleasure intertwining seamlessly. One afternoon, several months later, Ricardo came home to find Elena in the garden with a strange smile on her face. “I have something for you,” she said, holding out a small box. He opened it. Inside was a pair of tiny baby shoes. Ricardo looked at her. His eyes widened with joyful disbelief. Are you? Let’s go to Elena felt the tears of happiness rolling down her cheeks.

We’re having a baby. He lifted her up in a whirling embrace, laughing out loud, a sound of pure, undisturbed joy that filled the whole garden. It was a future neither of them had imagined, born of a present they had built together from the ruins of their past. The years that followed were a symphony of happiness. They had a boy they named David, with his father’s dark eyes and resolute spirit, and a girl two years later, whom they named Laura, with her mother’s kind smile and artistic heart.

Once a gilded prison, the mansion became a veritable home filled with the sounds of laughing children, the clutter of toys, and the warmth of a family united by love. Elena and Ricardo never forgot the painful beginning of their story. It became a kind of family legend, a reminder that the most beautiful things can often be born from the darkest places, that hatred can be transformed into the deepest passion, and that a forced marriage can, against all odds, become the greatest love of all.

One afternoon, on their tenth wedding anniversary, they were sitting on the balcony of her bedroom, the same balcony from which he had despised her that first night. Their children played on the lawn below, their laughter rising to them. Elena was wearing the zafo necklace. She leaned against Ricardo’s shoulder as the sun set, painting the sky vibrant colors. “To think that it all started in this house,” she whispered. that began with take off that dress, for me you don’t exist.

Ricardo squeezed her hand. I was an arrogant fool. But even then when I saw you in that dress, a part of me knew I was lost. It just took me a long time and I almost lost you to realize it. He kissed her softly, a kiss filled with the comfort and depth that only 10 years of shared love, struggles, and triumphs can create. You know? Sometimes I still dream about that contract,” he said quietly. Except that in my dream I rewrite it.

And the only clause says, love, honor and adore Elena for the rest of my life. Elena smiled, tears of happiness shining in her eyes. We don’t need a contract for that. We do it every day. They looked over the horizon at a family they had built on a foundation of ashes and that was now as strong as the love that bound them together, a love that was real, imperfect, and eternally theirs.