"You actually did that?" he said, narrowing his eyes as he spoke each word with care.

A flicker of doubt tugged at her, but she refused to let it show. Carolina lifted her chin and met his gaze without backing down. If he struck her, then so be it. Taking a hit would be better than standing there like she had no will of her own.

"Yes," she answered, her voice sharp and steady.

His jaw tightened, and without another word, he turned his back on her. Long strides carried him out of the room. He had never been the kind of man to raise his hand against a woman, and he wasn't about to start now. Still, dealing with her tested his patience. He had no intention of arguing any further. "If she wants to starve, that's her choice."

The door slammed shut behind him with such force that she flinched before she could stop herself.

"At least he's gone," she muttered to herself, letting her body fall back onto the bed, her arms stretched above her head.

After a while, she sat up and reached for the book lying twisted on the floor.

"I'm sorry about that," she replied softly, brushing her fingers over the cover. Books had always meant something to her.

A short time later, Dolores arrived with a tray of food. As she handed it over, her eyes flicked down the hallway, and Carolina noticed the hesitation.

"Dona Dolores, did you bring this without telling him?"

"Yes, ma'am," Dolores replied. "Go on, take it." She nudged the tray forward, and Carolina accepted it.

"I don't want you getting in trouble because of me," Carolina said under her breath. Dolores smiled warmly in response.

"There's no need to worry, ma'am," she responded. "Mr. Maximo can be stubborn, but he wouldn't take it out on me. At most, he'll say a few words."

Carolina shook her head with a small smile.

"Thank you," Carolina said, her voice soft as she smiled at the older woman. "Good night, Dona Dolores."

She held onto that small exchange. At least someone here showed her kindness.

"You're welcome, ma'am," Dolores replied gently. "And... try to be patient. He'll come around in time."

With a faint smile, Carolina gave a small shake of her head before shutting the door. He doesn't have to adjust to anything, she thought. He's the one who forced this marriage. I didn't get a choice at all. That thought only deepened the bitterness she already felt toward him.

"Enough, Carolina. Stop thinking and go eat. Meals aren't something you skip."

She headed to wash her hands, said a quiet prayer, then sat down and started eating.

Elsewhere, Maximo sat alone in his room, his mood far from settled. A towel still hung around his waist as he remained seated on the bed.

"That woman has no sense at all," he muttered before dropping back onto the mattress.

What bothered him wasn't just the argument. It was the way she had refused him.

After everything that had happened earlier, he couldn't accept it.

"Well, you didn't pay her," he muttered to himself. Even so, something inside him resisted that thought. She hadn't taken the first offer either.

"She's playing a game. Acting distant so she can get more out of it. I know this kind of behavior."

He turned onto his side and eventually drifted off. Sleep didn't clear his thoughts. Even in his dreams, Carolina stayed there, her temper and stubbornness lingering.

Morning came, and he made his way downstairs for breakfast. After waiting for some time, he turned his gaze toward Dolores and asked where she was, questioning why Carolina had not come down yet.

A trace of worry showed on the older woman's face as she looked at him. Sensing something was off, he set his fork down and turned toward her, already expecting something he wouldn't like.

"Sir... Mrs. Castillo left very early this morning."

His expression tightened.

"She left? Where did she go, Dolores?"

"I don't know, sir," she answered honestly. "I saw her coming down the stairs and called out to her, but she only waved and kept walking."

His hand moved to the napkin on his lap. He wiped his mouth, then tossed it onto the table with clear irritation.

"That woman is trouble," he scoffed. Then his voice rose. "Jacinto!"

Moments later, the servant stepped into the dining room. He removed his hat and lowered his head respectfully.

"Yes, Mr. Castillo?"

"Do you know where my wife went?" Maximo held back his temper as he spoke, though it still edged his tone.

"She asked Fernando to drive her into the city, sir," Jacinto replied. "But he refused. He said he needed to speak with you first. After that, she took out her phone and arranged for a car herself. Then she walked out through the gate."

Maximo drew in a slow breath, forcing himself to stay calm. Part of him wished Fernando had taken her. At least then, he would've known where she was and who she was with. Still, the man hadn't done anything wrong, so there was no reason to fault him.

"Alright. Thank you. Tell Fernando that next time, he's to take her without hesitation. And I expect to be informed of where Mrs. Castillo goes." Another breath followed, and a faint smile touched his lips. There was something in it that felt off. "You can go now, Jacinto."

With a small gesture of his hand, he dismissed him. Jacinto nodded and quietly stepped out.

Maximo rose from his seat, grabbed his keys, and adjusted the mask covering half his face before heading out. He wasn't trying to control her. But letting her wander off alone didn't sit right with him.

She didn't know the area. The people didn't know who she was. If anything happened... That thought alone pushed him forward.

He got into the car and drove off, picking up speed without hesitation. Leaving the farm wasn't something he did often, and he rarely showed himself among the people of Aguas Lindas. He knew what they said about him when he wasn't around.

He drove through the outskirts first, scanning every corner. No sign of her. Street after street passed, and still nothing.

"Damn it. I'll have to look on foot," he muttered, frustration rising. His hand struck the steering wheel.

The car came to a stop. He let out a long breath and pushed the door open halfway. Just as he was about to step out, a voice nearby caught his attention.

"Yes, she's new here. She just arrived, and this already happened to her. Poor thing."

His expression changed at once. Visitors were rare in that place. Which meant...

Maximo pushed his way toward the pair who had been talking. Irritation tightened in his chest. Carolina had given him another reason to be annoyed, and now he had to deal with strangers.

"Excuse me," he said, stopping in front of them. Both women turned at once. The mask gave him away, and they instantly knew who stood before them. Around the village, people whispered another name for him. They called him "The Monster."

"Yes, sir?" one of the women replied, her voice unsteady.

"I caught part of what you were saying. I'm looking for my wife. She has brown hair and honey-colored eyes. She's about medium height, and she just arrived here."

The woman glanced at her companion before she said, "There is someone like that at the bookstore." He gave a quick nod, then turned and headed that way.

The village was small, and there had only ever been one bookstore. That much he still remembered.

As he made his way down the street, people turned to stare. Their whispers followed him, low but constant. He hated every second of it.

Back then, he only visited the farm from time to time, so most people never got a clear look at his face. Years had passed since his last visit. When he returned after everything changed, someone caught sight of him without the mask, without anything to hide what he had become. After that, the story spread fast. People said a monster had taken over La Preciosa farm.

Once the bookstore came into view, he crossed the street without slowing. The moment his hand touched the doorknob, Carolina's laughter drifted through the door.

That sound only made his anger rise.

If she was sick, then she should have been in pain, not laughing like nothing was wrong.

Inside, Carolina stood close to a man with brown hair and dark eyes, talking as if she had no care in the world. From what Maximo could tell, the man looked about the same age as him.

Recognition hit him at once. That man was the one who had seen him.

When she noticed the man at the counter shift his stance, she turned toward him. The light in her eyes faded almost at once. Maximo tightened his lips, then moved straight toward her.

Once he stopped in front of Carolina, his height made the difference impossible to ignore. He stood close to two meters tall, while she barely reached 1.61 meters and remained seated on the low sofa. The way he towered over her made it seem like he might overwhelm her just by standing there.

"So, you're done enjoying yourself?" he asked, his tone edged with irritation.

Carolina narrowed her eyes at him.

"That woman still thinks she can look at me like that?"

"No. You can leave and come back another time." She waved her hand in dismissal and turned her attention back to the man she had been speaking with before Maximo arrived.

His eyes widened at her response. Without holding back, he reached out and seized her arm.

"Mr. Castillo!" the man who had been laughing with Carolina called out as he stepped closer. Maximo shot him a furious look, but it didn't shake him. "Please, your wife injured her foot. You need to be more careful with her."

"And who the hell are you?" Maximo shifted his gaze toward him, his expression hard.

"My name is Bastian Lozano. I own this bookstore, and—"

"What is my wife doing here, standing so close to you?" He turned sharply toward Carolina. "Do you even know this man?"

"I do," Carolina answered in a calm tone.

It took him a moment to process that.

"Since when?" he asked, his patience slipping. She had never been to Aguas Lindas before. There was no reason for her to know anyone here. Had they met online? Had they been talking before? Had she planned to meet him before the wedding, or after?

Her gaze shifted toward the clock.

"I can't say for sure... maybe a few hours? That's what it felt like."

For a brief moment, confusion replaced the anger on Maximo's face. Then surprise flickered across his expression. It didn't last. Once he understood she had been playing with him, the anger returned just as strong.

His attention dropped to her foot, wrapped in bandages.

"So you hurt your ankle?"

"I did, but I'm fine now. Still, thanks for asking... Oh!"

Before she could react further, he had already moved. One arm slid beneath her legs, while the other supported her back. In one motion, he lifted her off the sofa. After that, he turned his head toward Bastian.

"I appreciate you helping my wife," he said, his voice tight. "We'll be leaving now."

Without waiting for a reply, he carried her out with steady steps. Carolina held onto his neck, and neither of them ignored how close they were.

Once they reached the car, he opened the passenger door and set her down carefully. He secured her seatbelt, then walked around and got into the driver's seat.

Silence lingered as they left the village behind. The moment the streets disappeared from view, he finally spoke.

"What exactly were you thinking? Walking around here by yourself?"

"I wanted to look around," she answered.

"You went alone, Carolina? Why didn't you wait for me?" he asked, irritation clear in his voice.

"You told me not to come looking for you. And I don't see how exploring the town counts as something urgent."

He drew in a slow breath. She had thrown his own words right back at him, and she seemed satisfied with it. He might have thought he could control everything she did, but she had no intention of letting that happen.

"Carolina, you're really pushing me right now."

"You're the one who gives unclear instructions. If something goes wrong, that's on you."

"Did you come all the way here on foot?" he asked.

"I did."

For a moment, he glanced at her, then returned his focus to the road ahead. A breath slipped out of him, heavy with frustration.

"Carolina, you don't even know this place. You have no idea who lives here. Something could've gone wrong, and you wouldn't have seen it coming. And on top of that, you started talking to someone you don't even know."

She pressed her lips together. He wasn't wrong. She hadn't thought about it that way. In her mind, a small village meant safety. With so few people around, anyone who tried something would be easy to identify. Still, admitting that out loud wasn't something she planned to do. Besides, there was no way he hadn't noticed how Bastian had acted.

"Then next time, tell your employees to drive me," she snapped. "And as for Bastian, he treated me well. You could learn something from that."

A short laugh escaped him, sharp and filled with disbelief.

"So now this is my fault? You wander around like nothing can touch you, and somehow I'm the problem? And now you're calling me a bad husband?"

"Of course I am," she replied. "That farm belongs to you, doesn't it? And yes, you've been a terrible husband."

"Careless, bold, disrespectful," he said, hitting the steering wheel to drive his point across.

"If that's how you see it, then divorce me," she replied with a shrug, as if it meant nothing at all.

She never saw it coming when Maximo slammed the brakes. The sudden stop threw her forward slightly, and she stared at him like he had lost his mind.

Without a word, he stepped out of the car and dragged a hand through his light hair. Under the sun, the strands caught the light and looked almost golden.

A moment later, he moved around to her side. The shift in his presence sent a cold feeling down her spine. He pulled the door open and unfastened her seatbelt.

"What... what are you doing?"

Instead of answering, he lifted her into his arms and set her down on the hood of the car. He guided her closer to the edge, then positioned himself between her legs.

"Yes."

Silence followed. He reached for her hair and pulled just enough to make her tilt her head up. It didn't hurt, but it forced her to meet his gaze. His green eyes held a sharp intensity.

"You like taking risks, don't you?" he said, leaning in. "You like putting yourself in danger?"

Heat spread through her body as he drew closer.

"I do," she answered, though uncertainty lingered in her voice.

His hand settled on her leg. He traced a slow path upward, his touch steady as it moved higher. By the time his hand reached the edge of her underwear, her breathing had already changed, and her lips parted slightly. When his fingers finally brushed against her, a soft sound escaped her.

"Tell me what you want, Carolina."

She could have kept her distance and asked to leave, but that wasn't what she wanted. Instead of backing down, she chose to push him further.

Carolina reached for his hand and held it, guiding his fingers with quiet intent. She watched his reaction closely, noticing the shift in his expression as his control began to slip.

He responded without hesitation, his movements drawing her closer to that edge she could barely hold back from. For a moment, everything slowed as he adjusted, giving her time to steady herself.

"Maximo!" she cried out soon after, her voice breaking as the feeling overwhelmed her.

"Aaah... you're—" he muttered under his breath, unable to finish as he gave in to the moment.

One of his hands braced against the car while the other stayed firm at her waist. He leaned into her, his head resting against her shoulder as his breathing grew uneven.

"Oh..." she murmured when the moment passed and he pulled away.

Without saying anything, he lifted her back into the car and secured her seatbelt. Then he returned to the driver's side and started the engine. The road stretched ahead of them, and neither spoke.

During the drive, Carolina turned inward, frustrated with herself. She had let him pull her in again, when she should have resisted.

"Honestly..." she whispered under her breath.

At the same time, Maximo wrestled with his own thoughts. He couldn't make sense of it. No one would choose to be close to him like that. Yet Carolina had done it so easily. She had known exactly how to affect him, how to push him until he lost himself, even if only for a moment.

After the car came to a stop, Carolina reached for the door handle, but his grip on her arm stopped her. Her eyes followed the path of his touch as she traced upward along his arm, across his chest, until her fingers reached his face.

"What is it?" she asked, though her tone came out sharper than she meant.

He narrowed his eyes at her, irritation flashing across his expression. In his mind, she came off as completely ungrateful.

"I was only asking you to wait so I could help you with the stairs. There's no reason to snap at me," he said, his patience slipping.

"You're saying I was rude?"

"You looked at me like I did something wrong." He shut his eyes for a moment and drew in a breath before continuing. "Just let me help you, alright?"

She gave a small nod.

"What a difficult woman." He thought as he moved around the car and came to her side.

His gaze dropped without meaning to, and the sight of her lips pulled his focus. The thought lingered longer than it should have, stirring something he had already tried to push down.

"Pull yourself together," he muttered under his breath.

"Take this," he said, handing her the key. "Lock the car once I close the door."

She agreed without argument.

As he bent down, she instinctively wrapped an arm around his neck. One arm slid beneath her knees, the other behind her back, and he lifted her out with ease. The door shut moments later, and she pressed the button, locking the car.

From a distance, Dolores spotted them approaching. At first, a smile crossed her face, but it vanished the moment she noticed the bandage on Carolina's foot. Concern took over as she hurried toward them.

"Oh, madam!"

"Dolores, go open my bedroom. Carolina will stay there with me."

Her lips parted in surprise as she looked at him, but he noticed and chose not to react.

The moment he stepped inside and shut the door behind them, she finally took the time to study the room. The last time she had been there, everything had been swallowed in darkness, so she hadn't seen a thing.

Compared to her own space, which felt lighter and more orderly, his room carried a heavier tone. The walls were painted in dark gray, except for one section behind the television that stood out in a softer shade. The bedding followed the same darker palette. The window had a film covering the glass, and thick blackout curtains blocked any light from coming through.

"It makes sense it would stay this dark."

He lowered her onto the bed, and heat rushed to her face as the memory of their first night surfaced.

"Why am I staying here?" she asked. "Is there something wrong with my room?"

"This isn't about your comfort. It's about mine."

A crease formed between her brows while he sat down and removed his shoe.

"I don't follow."

Without turning toward her, he answered, "I need to keep you where I can see you. Your foot is injured, and someone has to take care of you. The staff won't stay in your room overnight, so I will. I'm not going to keep walking back and forth in the middle of the night just to check on you."

"Oh..." she said softly. "I could just message you. That way, you wouldn't have to keep coming to my room to—"

"Do you want to take a bath?" he cut in. The interruption bothered her, but she held back her response. Carolina had no intention of starting another argument.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"You're not just planning to help me bathe, are you?"

A careless shrug followed.

"Does that bother you?"

Her head moved in a quiet refusal.

"No."

"Good. Then let's take care of those clothes."

His tone carried a playful edge, and when she studied his face, even with the mask hiding part of it, she could still tell he meant every word.

"And I used to hate men like this... now I'm here, thinking it feels right. Get a hold of yourself, Carolina."

His hands moved with care as he undressed her, his touch unhurried. Every now and then, he pressed soft kisses along her skin. The mask got in the way a little, but not enough to stop him.

"Maximo?" she called. A low "hmm?" came from him, his focus still on her as he continued. "Why won't you kiss me?"

He lingered for a moment before pulling back slightly.

"I already kissed you earlier, didn't I?" he replied.

Her eyes stayed on him. "That was different. Why not now?"

"The mask's in the way."

"Then take it off," she said, as if it were nothing at all.

"No." His answer came fast. "If I take it off, you won't want me to kiss you." He turned away from her, his hand lifting to touch the mask. "I'm not something you'd want to see."

"I don't think that's true," she responded, her voice steady. A short laugh slipped out of him.

"You've only seen the part that's still intact. What the fire did... it's not something anyone wants to look at." His voice dropped. "Not even me."

His words settled heavily between them.

For a moment, she thought about pushing him, about asking him to try anyway. But what if he was right? What if her reaction betrayed her? The thought alone made her hesitate.

"It's your face," she said in the end. "You decide what you're comfortable with. I won't push you."

"At least she knows when to stop."

"Come on. Let's get you cleaned up." A faint smile appeared on his lips.