The mansion was quiet that evening, too quiet for Alejandro Cruz's restless mind. He sat in the dimly lit study, a half-empty glass of red wine cradled in his hand.
The mahogany desk before him was cluttered with untouched documents, contracts, and unopened letters. Yet all he could see, and all he could feel was the weight of Ana's absence.
He hadn't visited her in weeks.
The thought gnawed at him like a parasite. The last time he had seen her, she had looked at him with tears flooding her eyes, her voice breaking as she begged him to explain why he had sided with Mariana in court.
And though he had whispered apologies, though he had tried to tell her he was under threat, the truth was, he had failed her.
Now, the memory of that moment burned in his chest like a wound that refused to heal.
Alejandro lifted the wine glass to his lips, taking a slow sip, but the liquid did nothing to drown the guilt. He set it down, leaning back in the leather chair, eyes drifting toward the ceiling.
You should have fought harder, he told himself. You should have stood your ground, like a man. Like a husband.
Instead, he had cowered. Mariana's threats to harm his father, the only family he had left and had chained him into silence. He could still see his father's frail figure in his mind, still hear Mariana's cold, venomous voice promising destruction if he didn't obey.
But what kind of man sacrifices his wife for his father? What kind of man allows the woman he loves to rot in a cell, accused of a crime she didn't commit?
The shame was unbearable.
The creak of the door snapped him out of his thoughts.
Alejandro turned sharply, the glass almost slipping from his hand. Standing in the doorway was Isabella, Ana's stepsister, her lips painted a dark shade of red, her eyes gleaming with mischief.
She wasn't dressed like someone making an innocent visit. A silk, wine-colored dress clung to her curves, its neckline plunging far too low, leaving little to the imagination.
Her hair tumbled over her shoulders in deliberate waves, and her heels clicked softly against the wooden floor as she sauntered in.
"What do you want, Isabella?" Alejandro's tone was sharp, defensive.
She smiled, ignoring his coldness. "Why so tense? I came to check on you. You've been isolating yourself… drinking alone." Her gaze flickered to the glass of wine before returning to him. "That's not good for a man like you."
Alejandro clenched his jaw, watching her carefully.
She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, her fingers tracing the wooden frame as though she owned the place. "You know, Alejandro," she purred, "Ana doesn't deserve you. Look where she is now in jail, accused of killing her own father. While you?
You're here, strong, successful, abandoned by her. Why waste your loyalty on someone who's already gone?"
The words hit like poison. Alejandro slammed the glass onto the table, the sharp clink breaking the silence.
"Don't you dare speak about Ana like that," he growled. His eyes darkened, voice trembling with restrained fury. "She's my wife. And whether she's in prison or free, she's still more of a woman than you'll ever be."
Isabella's smile faltered for a second, but she recovered quickly, stepping closer, her hips swaying deliberately.
"You're lonely," she whispered, her voice sultry. "And I can give you what she can't. I can take away that pain you keep drowning in wine."
She leaned forward, placing her hand on his shoulder. Her perfume was intoxicating, sweet but suffocating.
Alejandro shot to his feet, knocking the chair back. He shoved her hand away, his chest heaving. "Get out," he said, his voice low but firm.
Isabella tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Why fight it? You want me, Alejandro. I can see it in your eyes."
"I said get out!" His shout echoed through the study, his fists clenched at his sides.
For the first time, Isabella's expression cracked. Her lips twisted into something ugly, her eyes narrowing with barely veiled rage. But instead of arguing, she smirked, straightened her dress, and walked toward the door.
At the threshold, she paused, turning back to him. "You'll regret rejecting me," she said softly, her voice like a snake's hiss. "Mariana won't always protect you. And when Ana is gone for good… you'll see you pushed away the only one who wanted to save you."
Alejandro's chest rose and fell, anger and disgust churning inside him. He didn't reply.
When the door clicked shut behind her, he sank back into the chair, burying his face in his hands.
He had resisted, yes. But the encounter only reminded him of the danger Ana faced, and of how deeply Mariana and Isabella's claws had sunk into their lives.
Alejandro closed his eyes, whispering into the silence.
"I'll fix this, Ana. I swear it. Even if it kills me."
***
Alejandro sat in the dimly lit study of his father's modest home, a glass of untouched water trembling in his hands. The older man, gray-haired and gentle-eyed, watched him from the armchair across the room.
"You've been restless since you got here, hijo," his father said softly. "I can see it in your face. Something is weighing on you. Tell me."
Alejandro's throat tightened. He wanted to confess, to spill out everything: the betrayal in court, Mariana's threats, the shadow of fear hanging over him.
But the image of his father's fragile health held him back. The doctor had warned him before: no unnecessary stress.
"I…" Alejandro's voice cracked. "I've done something wrong, Papá. Something I can't undo." He looked away, shame burning in his chest. "But I can't tell you. Not yet. I can't put more weight on your heart."
His father studied him for a long moment, then sighed, reaching out with a trembling hand to pat his son's arm. "We all make mistakes, Alejandro. What matters is whether we let those mistakes define us or whether we fight to correct them."
Alejandro shut his eyes, guilt tearing at him. How can I correct betraying Ana?
"Stay calm," his father continued, his voice gentle but firm. "The storm will pass. The truth has a way of coming out, and when it does, you'll know what to do. You're stronger than you think, hijo."
Alejandro nodded, forcing a weak smile, though his heart ached. If only his father knew how much he had already lost.