Episode 1

Chapter 1

Thalia had never been welcome in that house. Nor in that family.

The mansion was beautiful, yes. White marble floors, soaring ceilings, crystal chandeliers worth more than her entire life. But it wasn't her home. It never was.

At twenty years old, she had become the shadow of a family that did not consider her blood. She was nothing more than the nuisance who lived in the back wing of the house, the one who had to thank for every plate of food as if it were charity.

"Are you late to the kitchen again?" Irene snapped from across the table, sipping her black coffee with disgust. "Can't you even be on time for the only thing you do well?"

Thalia closed her mouth. She learned years ago that arguing was a waste of time.

Across from her, sitting with her legs crossed and her nails freshly painted red, was Bianca. The legitimate daughter. The perfect one. The princess.

"Leave her alone, Mom," she said with a mocking giggle. "She was probably dreaming of being like me."

Thalia stared at the tablecloth. It wasn't worth it. It never was.

The only reason she lived there was because Irene had married Esteban, Bianca's father, when Thalia was nine years old. An arranged marriage, like everything in that house. All Irene gained was the surname, the status, and the opportunity to hide her bastard daughter behind closed doors.

But Esteban was barely there. And when he was, he pretended not to see. Not to hear. Not to know.

That particular morning, the air in the house felt thicker. Bianca seemed especially amused, and Irene kept receiving messages on her cell phone, which she looked at with a smile that always seemed to Thalia more like that of a usurping serpent than a mother.

After breakfast, Thalia tried to disappear, as always. She went up to her small room in the attic—the only place where she could cry without anyone asking her to cry silently—but before closing the door, she heard Irene's call.

"Thalia! Come down, now."

The tone admitted no delay.

She descended again, with heavy feet. In the main hall, Irene was waiting for her, sitting as if on a throne, and Bianca, who couldn't hide her expectant smile.

"I have news for you," Irene said, patting the sofa beside her, as if expecting Thalia to sit down like an obedient child. But she stood still. By instinct. By defense.

"Irene, if it's to humiliate me again, I don't have time."

"No. Not this time. This time you're going to thank me."

Bianca chuckled softly.

"Thank you for what?"

"Your miserable life is going to change." Irene stood up, walked towards her, and held her face with a cold hand. "Today you were bought, darling."

Thalia blinked. She felt her heart pounding in her temples.

"What…?"

"A marriage. A contract. I sold you. Formally, of course. With a lawyer, paperwork, and everything legal."

"Are you… are you kidding?"

"No. You already have an owner. You're getting married in a week. To a man who knows what he wants. And you… you're going to do what you do best: obey."

Thalia took a step back. The words wouldn't come out. The air turned to fire in her lungs.

"You can't do this to me."

"Of course, I can." Irene crossed her arms. "You're of age, but you have no money, no family, and nowhere to go. Without me, you don't exist. This is the best thing that could happen to you."

"Who is he?" she murmured, trembling.

"Adrian Munoz. 28 years old. Millionaire. Handsome. Cold as an iceberg, but that doesn't matter. He has a daughter, by the way. So you'll also be a stepmother. How nice, right?"

Thalia felt her knees buckle.

Bianca couldn't take it anymore and burst out laughing.

"A maid becoming the lady of a mansion! You're going to be the laughingstock of everyone."

Irene approached again, lowering her voice.

"You have no choice, Thalia. If you say no, you leave this house today. And you won't even have enough to pay for a coffee."

And then she understood.

She was not a daughter. She was not a sister. She was an object. A price in a catalog.

And she had just been sold to the highest bidder.

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