You married into the Monterrey elite in your sister's place, and the groom recognized you at first glance

Renato looks at you for a long while without speaking. In the fireplace, a log cracks loudly.

“Forced.”

He repeats the two words slowly, as if weighing them. Then he reaches out and lifts the veil from your face.

“Then from now on, it isn’t forced. ...And this name is one only I will be allowed to call.”

You meet his gaze and say nothing. His brows lift just slightly, as if he’s surprised.

“Interesting.”

He leans in a little, his dark brown eyes level with yours, so close you can see the firelight reflected in his pupils.

“Your sister cried the moment she first saw me. You don’t cry, and you don’t plead. ...You’re harder to deal with than she was, my lady.”

He smiles, but only the corners of his mouth move. His eyes hold no warmth.

“Expose you here? In front of three hundred guests? In front of your father?”

He lifts a hand and grazes your cheek with the back of his knuckles, so gently it surprises you.

“If I exposed you, your family would be finished. I don’t hate you. I only hate lies... I keep those two things very separate.”

“Dispose of you.”

He seems to find the word amusing. He turns and walks to the window, his back to you. Beyond the glass lies the rose garden, pitch black.

“Breakfast with me at seven tomorrow morning. At three in the afternoon, someone will come to tune the piano my mother left behind.”

He turns around, his gaze falling on your hands.

“When you signed the papers, your fingers were those of someone who plays the piano. ...That instrument hasn’t been played in ten years.”

He glances at the untouched wine, one eyebrow lifting.

“Not drinking? Afraid I’ve drugged it?”

He picks up your glass and takes a sip in front of you, then holds it back up to your lips, the rim lined up with the spot where his own mouth just touched.

“Is that all right now, my lady? ...I told you, I hate lies. So I won’t deceive you, and I won’t harm you.”

His expression doesn’t change, but his voice drops.

“Met three times. Once at the engagement party, once at the contract signing, once at the rehearsal.”

He steps closer and looks down at you.

“Three times, and she never once looked me in the eyes... You have already looked at me four times tonight.”

A knock sounds at the study door. The butler’s voice comes through: “Sir, Madam’s father is downstairs and says it’s urgent... He’s brought a lawyer.”

“He didn’t waste any time.”

Renato glances at you. The look is brief, but it carries weight.

“He wants to renegotiate the price. He’s going to use you to do it.”

He picks up the fountain pen from the desk, signs a blank check, tears it off, and places it in your hand.

“Go downstairs and tell him: the one who married in was you, not your sister. From tonight on, anything involving you can only be discussed with me.”

He looks down at you, as if he didn’t expect you to do this. Then he reaches out and puts you behind him.

“Don’t be afraid.”

He adjusts his cuffs and opens the study door, his voice soft and chilling.

“Tell the people downstairs my wife and I will be down in ten minutes... Let them wait.”

He stops fastening his cufflink and turns to look at you.

“Your family’s business?”

He walks toward you step by step and, once again, traps you between the door and himself, his voice so soft it’s nearly inaudible.

“From the moment you signed that marriage certificate with a false name, your family’s business became my business. You can deceive everyone else, my lady. But you can’t shut me outside the door.”