Episode 1

Isabella

Several years ago...

Rain streamed down my face, mingling with the tears I fought to hold back. My heart pounded so hard I felt it might burst from my chest. I needed to see him. I needed to explain.

I raced through the corridors of the Moretti family’s corporate building, my heels sinking into the plush carpet. Each step brought me closer to Lorenzo—and closer to the rejection that awaited me.

When I stopped at the door of the presidential suite, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and knocked.

Nothing.

I knocked again.

The click of the lock made me hold my breath.

The door opened, and there he stood. Lorenzo Moretti, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal his bare chest, his silky hair disheveled. On any other day, he would have pulled me inside and kissed me as usual. But today, our circumstances were different.

His dark gaze fell on me, filled with hatred.

“How dare you show up here? How dare you come here and humiliate yourself further?”

My throat went dry. I knew he wouldn’t make this easy for me. But even so, I had to try.

“I need to explain…”

His laughter was cold and cruel.

“Explain what?” He held up his phone, showing me the screen. “What exactly do you want to explain? That this photo I’m showing you is a montage?”

The air left my lungs. The photo.

On the screen, the image was blurred yet unmistakably clear—a carefully orchestrated setup by someone who wanted to tear us apart, and they had succeeded.

In the photo, I was getting into someone else’s car. Specifically, that someone was Hernández Santoro, Lorenzo’s rival, a competitor who would stop at nothing to steal Lorenzo’s projects and destroy his company. After dragging me into this carefully crafted chaos, he had vanished.

My heart sank as I listened to his hate-filled words.

“Lorenzo… it’s not what it looks like. I swear. Let me explain!”

He narrowed his eyes. He had always been a passionate man, but now… now he looked like he wanted to destroy me, his pure rage alone enough to shatter me.

“Then tell me what exactly this is supposed to mean?” His voice thundered, as if ready to strike me down.

“I know nothing about this. Someone set me up. I never betrayed you. Never. Please believe me! Why would I want to destroy you when I know the company means everything to you? Tell me, what logic is there in that?”

Lorenzo laughed. There was no humor in it.

“Shut up, Isabella. I don’t want to hear another word from you. Every word you speak is a lie.”

The world spun around me, and I felt everything crumbling.

“Lorenzo, please…” My voice was weak.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to contain his anger, but I knew him too well. Lorenzo wasn’t one to hold back when he felt betrayed. And he was convinced I had betrayed him.

He took a step forward, then another, until he was too close. The woody scent of him, mixed with the whiskey he must have been drinking, overwhelmed my senses.

His jaw was tight.

“You’re dead to me, understand? I hope your betrayal was worth it.”

Tears welled in my eyes.

Lorenzo gave me one last look, filled with hatred and bitterness. Then he turned and left me there.

“I love you…” I whispered, but it was too late.

That night, I knew I would never earn his forgiveness. Someone had ended us, destroyed us both, and he was none the wiser.

...(๑˙❥˙๑)0.1(๑˙❥˙๑)...

Isabella

They say time heals all wounds. That’s a lie. Some pains simply become a part of who we are.

My name is Isabella Vásquez, and five years ago, my life crumbled before my eyes.

I remember that night as if it were yesterday. The rain poured down, the city lights were dim, and the sound of hurried footsteps echoed on the wet pavement as I struggled to hold back tears. I went to Lorenzo to explain everything, but he wouldn’t listen. In his eyes, I was a traitor, a liar. A woman who had deceived him.

And then he left me.

But what Lorenzo never knew—and what I didn’t know at the time—was that I was carrying his child.

That night, I finally realized it because my body couldn’t withstand the emotional shock, the pain of seeing him despise me and discard everything we had. I lost our baby.

I woke up in a hospital, surrounded by strangers who had found me collapsed on the street. My life was over.

I ran away. I left everything behind, cut all ties with my past, and started over in a neighboring city. But starting over is never easy, especially for someone who has lost everything.

Five years later, I own a small interior design company. I built it from the ground up, pouring every penny I had saved into it. My salary is decent, and I don’t need many luxuries to live, but the truth is, I’m on the verge of bankruptcy.

My company is facing a serious crisis. If I don’t get emergency funding, I’ll have to shut down. Maintenance costs, supplier expenses, and employee salaries are piling up, and clients aren’t closing deals as frequently as they used to.

With each passing day, I feel the weight of responsibility growing. If I lose the company, years of dedication and sacrifice will be for nothing. But what can I do when my options are dwindling?

That’s why I spent the entire day in meetings, desperately trying to secure a loan. But the answer was always the same:

“Unfortunately, we cannot extend credit at this time.”

I tried reaching out to banks, investors, even former clients who owed me favors, but no one was willing to take the risk.

Now, I sit at my desk, staring at the pile of bills, feeling the desperation grow. My phone vibrates beside the keyboard. I sigh and pick it up, ready to ignore any new invoices. But my heart stops when I see the name on the screen.

Doña Eleonora Moretti.

After all these years, what could she possibly want from me?

I stare at the screen before answering.

“Hello?”

“Isabella, my dear… it’s been too long.”

I close my eyes. Her voice is the same, filled with affection and a natural authority. Unlike Lorenzo, his grandmother had always been kind to me.

“Yes, it has been…” I whisper.

“We need to talk. I’ve missed you.”

My throat goes dry. Why does she want to see me now?

“I… I’m not sure if that’s a good idea, Doña Eleonora. I…”

“Isabella, please. Just for a cup of tea. Nothing more.”

I sigh. Part of me knows I should refuse. But another part… is curious.

Truth be told, I have nothing left to lose.

“Alright. Where and when?”

She gives me the address of an upscale café downtown and arranges for us to meet the same day.

After hanging up, my hands are cold.

I wait a moment, hoping the anxiety will pass, then grab my purse, get into my car, and drive toward the address Doña Eleonora sent me. My heart races, and I’m not sure why.

Maybe it’s because I’m about to see the grandmother of the man I once loved.

Or maybe it’s the fear of what she might want from me after so long.

The traffic is manageable, but my mind is elsewhere. My hands sweat on the steering wheel, and with every block, my breathing grows shallower.

When I finally park in front of the upscale downtown café, I sit in the car for a few seconds. My fingers grip the cold leather of the steering wheel as I try to collect my thoughts.

Why am I here?

I should have refused. But something deep inside tells me to go through with it. I’m already here, so what’s the point of turning back?

I take a deep breath, unbuckle my seatbelt, and step out of the car.

As I enter the café, the aroma of fresh coffee and a hint of vanilla wash over me. My eyes scan the room until they land on Doña Eleonora Moretti, seated at a reserved table in the corner.

Age doesn’t seem to have burdened her. Her gray hair is swept up in an elegant bun, and her sharp eyes, just as I remember, take me in from head to toe as I approach.

“Isabella…” She smiles, rising slightly from her chair. “You look beautiful.”

A tightness forms in my chest, and I don’t know whether to smile or remain composed.

“Good afternoon, Doña Eleonora.”

“Sit down, dear.”

I do as she says, and soon a waiter comes to take our order. I opt for a simple coffee, while she orders chamomile tea.

The silence that follows is strange. I sense she didn’t call me here just to catch up.

Doña Eleonora speaks first.

“I heard you’ve been doing well these past few years, dear.”

I laugh humorlessly.

“If ‘well’ means struggling desperately to save my company, then yes, I’m doing great.”

She observes me for a moment, seemingly analyzing every word I say.

“You still hold resentment, don’t you?”

I keep my hands tightly clasped on my knees, not wanting to dwell on the past.

“I’ve moved on, Doña Eleonora. What happened between me and your grandson is in the past.”

She nods gently, stirring her tea calmly.

“I know he didn’t want to listen to you…” She sighs. “And I also know you suffered far more than he could ever imagine.”

My spine stiffens. Does she know?

I blink a few times, trying to recall. But before I can speak, she continues:

“What Lorenzo did to you was a terrible mistake, Isabella. But I know my grandson. He’s too proud and stubborn to admit he was wrong. Despite the resentment between you, deep down, you still love each other.”

I don’t respond. My throat is too tight.

“That’s why I’m here today,” she continues, setting her cup down and folding her hands on her knees. “I need your help.”

“My help?” I raise an eyebrow. This is unexpected. “What kind of help?” I dare to ask again.

She straightens in her chair, her sharp gaze fixed on me.

“I want you to marry my grandson.”

My heart stops.

I blink, hoping she’ll laugh and say it’s a joke. But her expression remains serious enough to let me know she means it.

I let out a humorless laugh.

“You must be joking.”

“I’m dead serious.”

This is insane.

“Why on earth would I do that?”

“Because you need the money.”

My muscles freeze.

She leans forward, her expression still calm but filled with determination.

“As you said, your company is in trouble. I know you’re struggling to keep it afloat. And I know you haven’t found another solution so far.”

I swallow. She knows me well enough to understand how hard I’ve fought to keep my business standing.

“What do I get out of this? Lorenzo will only hate me more.”

She smiles faintly.

“You’ll earn enough to solve your financial problems, with plenty left over in your account. You won’t have to worry about repaying any debts for the rest of the year. In addition to the contractual fee Lorenzo will pay, I’ll add an extra amount for you.”

My heart leaps.

She knows exactly how to get to me.

“Lorenzo needs this marriage. The media has been speculating about his personal life, and he can’t afford to have his image and sexuality questioned. He just needs a civil marriage to boost public credibility. And you need the money. Besides, I don’t want anyone else bearing our family name but you.” She takes my hand. “I love you very much, dear, and I won’t lie—I hope you two can reconcile.”

My stomach churns.

“Does he… know it’s me?”

Doña Eleonora shakes her head.

“No. And he doesn’t care who the wife is, as long as the contract is fulfilled. In a way, it’s better for you that he doesn’t know it’s you.”

I narrow my eyes. This is madness. When will he find out?

But the truth is… I’m in a bind. I need the money, and the Moretti family is the only way out at this point. Perhaps this is my only chance, a way out of this mess.

I take a deep breath, my thoughts racing in every possible direction.

Marrying Lorenzo Moretti.

A man who hates me.

A man who has no idea I’m the contractual bride.

Yet, everything inside me screams that I should agree and solve my problems once and for all.

I lift my head and look at Doña Moretti.

“When would this need to happen?”

She smiles.

“In a week.”

“Alright. I’ll marry Lorenzo.”

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