~~Elena~~~

I woke up the next morning and noticed a strange man lying on the bed beside me. Slowly, I raised the blanket, my eyes widening.

What? I slept with a stranger?

The memories of last night came rushing back.I pressed my palm to my lips, remembering the taste of his kiss, the heat of his hands, the way I had surrendered so completely. Shame, fear, and something dangerously close to longing twisted inside me, leaving me breathless. I searched for my phone, but it was nowhere to be found. I quickly reached out for my clothes, only to discover they were torn beyond recognition. Is this man a tiger? How did he rip my clothes like this?

I grabbed his white long sleeve shirt, which barely covered my butt, and dashed out of the room. At the reception desk, I asked a lady to check if anyone had turned in a phone. She shook her head, and I quickly asked for hers which she did. Immediately I dialed Mariana's number-one of the girls from last night, and my closest friend.

"Hi, what about my cell phone?" I asked.

"It's here," Mariana replied. "Your uncle has been calling nonstop. I had to tell him you were at my place, but I went out with your phone."

"Thank you," I breathed.

"Not so fast," she continued. "You have to make your way to the engagement party. Your uncle is crazy-he even threatened to cut off your grandmother's medical bills. I thought she was his mother too!"

"Thanks, Mariana. That's a story for another day, but right now I need something to wear."

"Okay. I'll send my driver to you. Just wait."

I handed the phone back to the lady, and she gave me a small nod.

"Thank you very much," I said softly.

While I waited, my eyes caught movement at the top of the staircase-and there he was. The man from last night. He is just too powerful even in the simplest act of descending the stairs, his assistant trailing closely behind like a shadow.

Panic rose in my chest, and without thinking, I pressed myself against the cold marble pillar, hiding from view.

I held my breath, terrified he might notice me... yet a part of me desperately wished he would, in just a few seconds they made their way to the exit door.

Not long after, the driver arrived, handing me a bag containing a silver, shimmering gown along with my phone. I quickly asked the receptionist for the ladies' bathroom, which was pointed out to me.

Inside, I caught sight of myself in the mirror-my hair messy, my lips swollen, I was in a total mess . I tried to freshen up, and I noticed a thick substance mixed with blood on my thighs. Oh my God!, Shame burned in my chest as I quickly brushed it off, not wanting to think too deeply about what it meant.

After cleaning up and changing into the gown, I stepped out, composed as much as I could manage. The driver opened the door, and I slid into the backseat. Heart racing as I went through the messages my uncle sent.

*******************************

Arriving at the party, I noticed it was full of powerful families from all over Madrid. I walked slowly, scanning the crowd for any familiar faces, until my eyes landed on Mariana, my friend, and her parents, along with other families deep in discussion, and a young man standing with them. I didn't move closer; all those families looked down on me. Mariana's family are not excluded.

A few seconds later, Mariana's eyes met mine. She quickly excused herself and walked toward me.

"You aren't even wearing makeup. Let's go to the bathroom," she said, grabbing my hand like a mother guiding her child.

"Why did you guys let me follow a stranger out?" I asked in a low, frustrated tone.

She didn't answer, instead quickening her pace toward the bathroom. Once inside, she checked each stall until she confirmed we were alone, then sighed heavily.

"Elena... Do you know what you've done?" Her sudden fear surprised me.

"What happened?" I asked, trying to steady the heartbeat threatening to burst from my chest.God, I hope no one saw me... The thought clawed at me, sharp and relentless.

She took a deep breath, about to speak, but a sharp knock on the door interrupted her.

"Elena, I know you're in there. You better come out before your uncle cuts your grandmother's medical bills. You can't back out now, unless you want to see her die," my aunt's voice said, cold and terrifying.

Mariana quickly brushed my gold-blonde hair into a center-parted style and rubbed a light pink gloss across my lips.

I quickly made my way out. I met my aunt graze, Her eyes narrowed, sharp as blades, and her lips curled into a cold, disdainful hiss.She turned sharply on her heel, her steps quick. I had no choice but to follow, trailing behind her like a shadow. Each click of her heels echoed in my chest, a reminder of how small and powerless I'd become.

Reaching the inside of the party, I noticed my uncle and cousin standing alongside with the older man from before, and the same lady still holding onto him. I wondered why she was always with him.

Gradually, we drew closer to them. The old man's face lit up.

"Elena, I know you were very stressed, that's why you didn't make it on time. But don't worry, the party won't start without the princess." I forced a smile as I walked closer to him.

"Where is that stubborn son of yours?" he asked the woman holding him.

She scanned the room. "He should be here, Dad."

"Mom, Grandpa, were you looking for me?" a young man said as he approaching us with a lady holding his arm, He stood tall, his golden hair catching the light as though it were meant to draw admiration. A smile curved on his lips, confident, practiced, almost charming. But to me, it was rotten. Beneath its shine, I saw only arrogance, and the sight of it twisted my stomach in disgust.

I didn't need to be told that this was the person I was going to marry.I noticed the crowd murmuring around us. Immediately I caught my aunt and cousin sharing a soft, mocking laugh, their eyes glinting with amusement at my discomfort.

This guy isn't even handsome compared to the ones I've rejected , and he's acting all mighty, as if the world revolves around him. ,I thought, as my lips curled in quiet disdain.

My mind, however, kept drifting to the hottie from last night. Geez... the memory hit me hard. Just thinking about him alone made my mouth water. I swallowed hard, trying to steady the sudden heat rising in me.

"I wondered who the heck would bring his whore to his own engagement." The old man said struck his walking stick hard against the floor

I wasn't even surprised.

"This marriage is indeed a transaction, Grandpa" he drawled, his voice smooth but laced with mockery.

"Oh, wow... my fiancée," he added as he stepped closer. Instinctively, I stepped back a little.

"You look like Cinderella," he smirked, tilting his head. "And I suppose that makes me the prince, doesn't it?" His tone was so sarcastic it made the words sting.

The woman he came with let out a soft, knowing chuckle, as though the joke was funny.

He circled me slowly, his eyes raking over me from head to toe. It felt less like admiration and more like a predator studying its prey. Finally, his lips curled into a wicked smile.

"With curves like these," he murmured, leaning just close enough to make my skin crawl, "I have a feeling you would be interesting in bed."

"You bastard!" Grandpa's voice thundered, his face flushed with shame and fury. His hands trembled as he struggled to keep his composure, the weight of humiliation heavy in his eyes.

I turned my gaze toward my uncle, searching for even a flicker of remorse. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets quickly, his jaw tightening as if to mask his guilt behind arrogance.

Just in a second.

A heavy silence swallowed the room, thick enough to make every breath feel louder than it should. Then, the sound of polished shoes echoed across the marble floor. Each step carried a weight that demanded attention.

Slowly, almost against my will, I turned my head. And there he was.

The hottie from last night.

~~Elena~~

Just like when he had entered the bar, everything around him seemed to bend to his presence.

"Oh my God..." My mouth fell open in awe as I struggled to understand why he was here.

Every memory of last night came flooding back, the way he moved, the way he looked at me, the way he made me feel, and I couldn't stop the flush creeping across my skin.

"Hello, Uncle," my so-called fiancé said, dismissing his hands from his love and running to him like a puppy who had just seen its master.

"Uncle..." I mustered out, almost losing my balance. What the heck have I done? I slept with my fiancé's uncle!

He moved closer, each step deliberate, unhurried, as though the entire room belonged to him. My chest tightened. Feeling a wave of shame and guilt, I slowly lowered my head.

"Why do I feel like I've seen this face before?" he murmured, his voice low yet powerful, carrying across the silence like a challenge. It wasn't a question-it was a statement, heavy with authority, as though he already knew the answer and was daring me to deny it.

"This is your nephew's wife, her name is Elena Ramos. These are her family, her father, mother, and elder sister," the old man said, introducing us.

The man nodded and stretched his hand toward me. "Nice to meet you, my niece-in-law."

I trembled as I reached out. He squeezed my hand, and that alone sent heat rushing under my thighs. My breath hitched, my heart racing. I quickly pulled my hand back.

The old man continued, "This is my only son, Alejandro Rodriguez, the heir of the Rodriguez family. He decides all the affairs of the family."

Elena! Elena!! Elena!!!, what have you done, I've really messed with the wrong person, I thought, panic curling in my stomach. I forced myself to stand tall, trying to piece together what little composure I had left. But before I could steady myself, my cousin shoved past me roughly, almost knocking me to the floor, as she stretched out her hand.

"Hi, I'm Isabella Ramos. an Oxford university graduate" she said, blushing.

He gave her a cold look, staring at her hand, then casually placed his own in his pocket. The mother and son let out a soft laugh, as if they had expected his rejection. I wanted to laugh too, but held back. Right now, I was in a bigger mess than she was.She gradually stepped back, her eyes narrowing with a mix of embarrassment and anger.

"Welcome to the family," he said to me, his voice low and deliberate, as he left with his assistant, ...and his family followed suit, their smiles painted on as they extended greetings to the other families.

"So... you said I was your daughter?" I asked my uncle.

He quickly gave me a cold gaze, without explanation. I knew what that meant. Grandma's life... my only weakness.

Come with me. There are still scores between us that need settling. He said

I stared at my cousin, sobbing uncontrollably, her mother's hands gently brushing her hair back as she whispered for her to calm down before her makeup ruined.

The sight was almost too funny; I couldn't resist but mimicking what she said earlier.

"I am Isabella Ramos, an Oxford graduate," I said,

"Mum, look at this bitch!"She shouted out loud, her voice carrying across the room and making the crowd turn to stare. Her mother rushed to calm her, but all eyes were already on them.

I didn't even spare a second. I quickly fell in step behind my uncle, moving through the whispers and stares with ease.

***********

"Elena, where were you last night? You were supposed to spend time with your fiancé, and cultivate feelings," my uncle's voice cut sharply through the air.

My problem is getting so complicated, I am caught in the cruel dilemma pressing down on me from all sides-torn between my fragile grandma lying in a hospital bed and this suffocating contract marriage.

Marrying a playboy wasn't even the real problem anymore. Deep inside, I knew it-I had already crossed paths with the wrong man.

"You'll be moving in with them today,Your belongings will be sent tomorrow morning." my uncle said flatly.

My fists clenched at my sides, heat rising in my chest. "But why, Uncle? What about Grandma? She needs me, I ..I need to be with her!" My voice shook, not from weakness but from barely restrained anger.

His eyes narrowed, his tone sharp as a blade. "This project will last three years. You will stay with them. About your grandmother, you can visit her once a week. But if you mess up this contract..." He leaned in, his words dripping with venom. "Then prepare yourself to meet her corpse."

My breath hitched, fury burning hotter than my fear. How dare he use Grandma's life like a bargaining chip?

*******

Later that night, we arrived at the Rodriguez mansion. The place towered above me, grand and intimidating, its walls whispering secrets of power and wealth I wasn't sure I wanted to be part of.

A maid welcomed me politely and led me through the long, echoing hallways until we reached a spacious bedroom. The air smelled faintly of roses and polished wood. Everything inside was meticulously arranged, the wardrobe already filled with elegant clothes in my size, shelves lined with expensive handbags, glistening jewelry, and neatly displayed designer heels.

"The elder arranged all this for you," the young maid said softly, her eyes dropping with practiced humility. "If you need anything, ma, please let me know."

I forced a nod, though my chest tightened. This room was beautiful, yet it felt like a golden cage.

After my bath, I slipped into the silk nightwear laid out for me.

On my way out of the room, I caught sight of a maid hurrying down the stairs.

"What about Carlos?" I asked quietly, almost hesitant.

She paused, lowering her gaze. "He doesn't usually come home, ma'am."

I gave a small nod, more to myself than to her, and walked toward the balcony.

The night air was cool, brushing against my face as I stepped outside. The balcony was beautifully crafted, perfectly arranged with elegant furniture and glowing lanterns-but my eyes wandered past it.

I stared at the dazzling city lights sprawled out below, then lifted my gaze to the endless sky. My chest tightened as a whisper escaped my lips.

"Mom... Dad... I need your help."

I heard the soft click of a lighter. immediately my gaze shifted to the shadowed corner of the balcony, where a tall figure leaned casually, the tiny flame illuminating, smoke curled lazily from the cigarette, wrapping around him like a veil, softening the sharp angles of his jaw and the intensity of his eyes.

He took a slow step closer, and I could feel the warmth radiating from him even from a distance.

Then I saw him- the man from last night, standing there like a shadow carved from moonlight. My chest tightened, and my fingers curled instinctively, though I tried to keep my movements calm.

With a voice barely more than a whisper, trembling with a mix of longing and disbelief, escape through my mouth:

"Alejandro..."

~~Alejandro~~

I don't know anything about my mum. She died while giving birth to me–or so I heard. Some said she was a mistress, others claimed she was the real wife. The truth behind that, I don't know, and I don't care either.

I lived with my dad during my childhood, and I had watched countless women try to play the stepmother role, just because my father was wealthy. Growing up, many of them used tricks and schemes to get my attention, but every single one of those games was already familiar to me.

Last week, my assistant informed me that my father was planning to find a wife for his grandson.

Another woman in the house, I thought with disgust.

Fifteen years ago, my stepsister barged into our lives with her son, claiming Rodriguez blood. I was certain it was a scam- another woman clawing for fortune. But the truth proved otherwise. She was one of us.

And in those fifteen years, she has reminded me of one thing: women will sell their souls for money. They'll trade dignity for power, blood for wealth, even family for survival. I've seen it. I've lived it. And I'll never forget it.

I did some research about the Ramos, and I found out they only have just one daughter. So why are there two now? Someone clearly thinks they can outsmart the Rodriguezs.

"Find out more about her," I told my assistant on our way home.

As we passed one of the Rodriguez clubs, I noticed a family figure standing outside. My eyes narrowed immediately. "Stop the car," I instructed, my gaze fixed on the scene. I leaned back, calm but calculating, as I observed.

She stood there for minutes, frozen, like she was afraid to go inside. That was my niece-in-law. I needed to know why she was here, because I don't waste time on questions without answers. People always bend to me, either with money or with their dirty little scandals. That's how I get results. So I decided to step in.

Inside, I spotted her among a cluster of girls her age. Teenagers. I couldn't help but wonder who allowed kids like them to drink themselves stupid in a place like this.

I took a seat at the bar counter, ordered a glass of whiskey, and observed.

Then she came closer. Bold. Too bold. Her words hit me like a strike: she asked how much she would pay for a night with her. For the first time in years, I was shocked. Women usually chase my money, not flip the game on me.

There was something about her,dangerous and magnetic. She grabbed my tie, pulled me in, her beauty undeniable but cloaked in something I couldn't read. And that's rare for me. I can read any woman... but not her.

Then she did the unthinkable. She kissed me. I had come here to uncover a scandal, but instead, I lost control. For once, I wasn't the man pulling the strings. I kissed her back.

After that night, I knew one thing-I wanted her. Not for a moment, not for a taste. I wanted to own her. To spoil her, to claim every inch of her, to make her mine in ways no one else ever could. I had been gentle before, only because I understood pain comes with a woman first time. But deep inside, I wanted to break through her fear, to see her unravel beneath me. I always get what I want. That's who I am. But now... I was breaking my own rules. This little forbidden bunny was making me forget my morals, and I hated how much I craved her.

I never liked going home. My stepsister's whining about her son joining the company was unbearable. But the moment my assistant mentioned she would be moving into the mansion, everything changed.

I went back. I watched as the maid led her through the hall, her steps quiet, her presence fragile. She looked lonely, and there was fear in her eyes-fear I wanted to erase and replace with something else.

From the balcony, I stayed in the shadows. I don't chase women. I never knock on doors. They throw themselves at me-I don't make exceptions. I took out a cigarette and clicked my lighter, but quickly stopped as I heard footsteps.

She appeared on the balcony, her golden hair glimmering in the moonlight, her nightdress clinging to her slim waist and soft curves. My chest tightened. Every movement of hers reminded me of last night-her surrender, the way she melted under my touch.

She was dangerous. She didn't even know what she was doing to me. And yet, all I wanted now was simple: to make her just as addicted to me as I already was to her.

I watched her staring up at the sky, whispering words I couldn't quite catch. She looked so fragile in that moment, as if the night was the only one listening to her secrets.

I lit my cigarette, and the sharp sound broke the silence. She turned quickly, startled, her eyes locking with mine. As I walked closer, her fragrance hit me citrus, floral... the same scent that clung to me from last night.

I came closer, She stepped back until her body rested against the balustrade, nowhere else to go. I closed the distance, taking the last drag from my cigarette before tossing it aside. Leaning in, I let the smoke drift past her, my lips close to her ear. I could hear her heartbeat fast, uneven. I whispered, low and certain,

"Are you regretting your decision?"

I caged her in, both hands gripping the balustrade on either side of her, leaving her trapped in the middle.

"Alejandro..." She breathed my name so softly.

I turned my face toward hers, so close our noses brushed, our breaths mixing in the cold night air. My restraint was slipping, but my pride held me there, wavering on the edge.

Gradually, I leaned in for a kiss, controlled, careful, watching her eyes. She knew the truth now-I was her fiancé's uncle. That knowledge should have made me stop. But it didn't. I wanted her too much. I wasn't a man used to hesitation, yet in that moment, I hoped that she wouldn't push me away.

At first, she hesitated, her lips trembling against mine. But then, slowly, she responded. That alone was enough to ignite the desire I'd been restraining. When her weak arms curled around my neck, I pulled her closer, lifting her effortlessly, as our height differences were making it hard for her to keep her balance.

I carried her to the darker corner of the balcony and sat back on the couch, pulling her into me. I wanted to give her a night she would never forget now and here, but at the same time, I wanted her to feel safe, comfortable...

Her lips trailed from my cheek down to my neck, and I tilted my head, giving her the access . When she sucked at my bump I groaned. She was driving me insane.

I cupped her face, pulling her eyes back to mine. "We're home," I murmured,

"Are you sure about this?",Because right now... I'm losing control

For a second, she just looked at me. Then she pulled away, adjusting her nightdress, and walked toward the balustrade. I sat there, silent, watching her, trying to read her thoughts.

"Uncle... I think we should stop."

My chest went still. My jaw clenched.

Wait.

What?

Did she just call me-Uncle?