Her sacrifice was clothed in a white silk dress and expensive lace, a blatant lie that no one believed, especially the man waiting for her at the altar.

Each step toward him was a step toward a golden cage, a bright future in the eyes of the world, but empty of everything that truly mattered.

She sold herself to save them all, becoming the wife of a man who not only loved her, but also deeply despised her.

This wasn’t a wedding; it was the most elegant and cruel execution of all her dreams.

The mirror reflected a stranger, a pale woman, her eyes too large and glistening with tears she didn’t want to shed, wearing a wedding dress more expensive than her parents’ house.

Elena swallowed hard, the lump in her throat making her breath ache.

The satin felt cold against her skin, heavy as the decision she’d made weeks ago. Behind her, her mother, Laura, trembled as she adjusted her veil, her eyes red and swollen.

«You look beautiful, my daughter,» Laura whispered, her voice choked.

«So beautiful. You’ll be a wonderful wife.»

Those words were gentle, yet they were like daggers to her heart.

A wonderful wife for a man who saw her as nothing more than an object, an appendix to a business deal.

Elena forced a smile, a strained smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Thank you, Mother.

She felt like a traitor, an actress in a tragic play.

She was about to marry Ricardo Montero, the most powerful and fearsome man in the city, and she did it for only one reason: to save her family. To save the family business, the garden of memories, the flower shop that his grandmother had built and which was now drowning in unpayable debt.

And more importantly, to save her younger brother Mateo, who was suffering from a terminal illness requiring extremely expensive treatments that had consumed all of the family’s savings.

The deal was simple, made by Ricardo’s father before his death and executed by Ricardo himself with chilling coldness.

He would save his father’s company from bankruptcy, pay for Mateo’s medical expenses for as long as necessary, and in return, Elena would become his wife.

An exchange, a transaction; she was the price to pay.

His father, a kind man, but defeated by circumstances, had explained it to him with a downcast gaze.

«That’s the only way, Elena.

Ricardo Montero can handle it.

He’s a good man.» But Elena had met Ricardo Montero only once to finalize the agreement, and she found no trace of kindness in his dark, calculating eyes. He stared at her as if appraising a horse or a work of art, with a distant, contemptuous look, before giving his cold consent.

«Alright, I accept the terms.

We’ll get married in a month.»

No more words, no intimate gesture, only a cold, rigid acceptance of an agreement that, for him, was a necessary inconvenience.

A touch from her mother pulled her out of her thoughts.

«It’s time, my dear.»

Her heart pounded violently.

She looked at herself one last time.

The perfect bride, the perfect lie.

As she left the room, she ran into her father, his suit slightly too big, his face like that of a man leading his daughter to her death.