For the first few weeks of their marriage, Clara believed she had made the biggest sacrifice of her life.
Every morning, she woke up inside the enormous Montemayor mansion, surrounded by priceless paintings, marble floors, and servants who treated her like royalty.
But none of it felt like a blessing.
Because every night, she returned to the same bedroom.
The bedroom where Don Baste sat in his wheelchair, eating dinner silently while Clara tried to understand the man she had been forced to marry.
He was everything the rumors said.
Cold.
Difficult.
Demanding.
Sometimes he would purposely spill his drink and watch her reaction.
Sometimes he would complain about the food even when the chef had prepared the finest meals in the country.
Sometimes he would call her name in the middle of the night just to ask for something small.
