Several men awaited my arrival via a chartered plane. I could say that my life had been luxurious, thanks to my father’s wealth. As the heiress to his vast fortune, he spared no expense in ensuring my safety. His overprotectiveness often annoyed me, but then again, I only had to think back to before he became Sebastian Cruz. Life wasn’t always like this. We had once been poor, struggling to make ends meet, and he did everything in his power to turn things around. As his only daughter, it was only right to love him unconditionally, no matter how overbearing his love might feel sometimes.

“Darling, how was your trip?” he asked eagerly, a wide smile on his face.

I waited for the familiar embrace, the one he always gave me when I returned from a business trip. But instead, I smiled at the man who had raised me alone, giving everything he had. He had nothing when my mother left him for a wealthier man. To this day, I hoped I’d never see her again. I despised her for abandoning me, for abandoning him.

“Excellent, papa,” I replied, giving a promise that I would share all the details soon enough.

As the articles often stated, Sebastian Cruz was a renowned business tycoon—his name synonymous with power and success in the construction industry. While the Valera’s were known for their dominance in the hospitality sector, the Cruz family had made its mark in the building world.

“You’re even more beautiful than the last time I saw you!” Sebastian Cruz exclaimed, walking beside me, his admiration obvious.

I could tell he was proud of my achievements—how could he not be? After all, I had worked tirelessly to meet his high expectations. I should have been proud of myself too. “I have a feeling there’s something you’ve been meaning to tell me since I stepped off the plane,” I said, watching his face carefully.

He shook his head, denying it, but I could tell something was troubling him. His stiff posture, the way his brow furrowed—it was all too clear.

“We’ll talk about it later, Isabella,” he said, but the way he said my name caused a jolt of concern. Usually, he called me by my nickname, which I hated, but Isabella ? That felt too formal, too distant.

“Alright, if you say so,” I replied, willing to let him speak when he was ready. He looked like he was already carrying a heavy burden, so I didn’t want to press him further.

We climbed into the convoy of black cars, which sped toward the private road leading to our estate— The Belleview. It wasn’t just a house; it was a castle, complete with five towering spires that stretched into the sky, surrounded by thick walls made of golden stone. The asymmetrical windows and spiked crenellations weren’t just for defense—they were there for aesthetic purposes. My father had always fancied himself a king, and the Belleview was his crown.

The castle was heavily guarded, but even so, there were hidden entrances known only to those who had lived here long enough to discover them. The iron gates loomed tall as we drove through them, passing a line of regal statues of kings who served as my father’s inspiration—proof that with hard work, determination, and persistence, anyone could achieve greatness.

The Belleview had been my home since I was ten. Before that, we had lived in a slum, scraping by. I was young then, but I still remember how hard my father worked to put food on the table. He started as a laborer, worked as a construction helper, and eventually became a mason. After years of toiling away in the field, he learned the real money was in construction.

In a desperate bid to turn our fortunes around, he gambled on a lottery ticket—and he won. The jackpot was a turning point. With the money, he invested wisely, and soon enough, he was building an empire. The rest, as they say, was history.

As we entered through the gates, I looked at my father and smiled. I promised myself then that I would do whatever it took to repay him for everything he had done for me. “Papa, maybe it’s time you found a wife,” I suggested playfully.

His hair was graying, but I knew it was the color he had chosen—it used to be a rich coffee brown that made him look much younger than his forty-seven years. I assumed several women would be eager to line up for the chance to be with him. He was still quite handsome for his age.

“No, it’s just a waste of time,” he replied with a shrug.

“Are you sure? Or are you still waiting for my mother to come back?” I teased, but my humor didn’t sit well with him. He frowned, his eyes turning away from me.

“I was only kidding, papa,” I said quickly, regretting my words.

“You’re right,” he muttered after a long pause.

I stared at him, shocked by his response. “Wait—are you serious? Oh my God, I can’t believe you, papa!” I shook my head, laughing incredulously. “I never thought I’d hear that from you!”

“It’s true love,” he reasoned, his tone soft but insistent.

“True love, my foot! If that’s what you call true love, then I don’t want any part of it!” I shot back, my words sharper than I intended.

“Isabella, you can’t say that,” he disagreed, his voice tinged with concern, but I just huffed in response. He had no idea what it was like to feel suffocated by expectations, to be tethered to a life you didn’t choose.

I was about to argue more, but we had arrived at the estate, and I didn’t want to risk the staff overhearing our argument. There could be a spy among the staff, and I couldn’t afford a scandal. Our business depended on maintaining the perfect image, and I wasn’t about to let a minor disagreement destroy that.

A uniformed woman followed me as I made my way toward the elevator, leading me to my bedroom. “How are you doing, Elena?” I asked warmly, trying to break the tension.

“Just fine, Miss Isabella,” she replied, her voice as timid as usual.

I rolled my eyes, trying to ease her nerves. “Come on, Elena, it’s just us here. No need for all the formality.” They were trained to be proper, to never act out of line, but I preferred it when they treated me like family. Elena had been with us for nearly fifteen years, and she’d seen me grow up. She was more than just a servant; she was a confidante.

Once in my room, Elena helped me with my bath. While she scrubbed my back, we chatted about everything and nothing. After a few minutes of silence, I found myself asking a question that I hadn’t really intended to voice out loud. “Do you think I’m happy with my life?”

Her gasp was immediate, and I could hear her pause. “You are Sebastian Cruz’s only daughter. Isn’t that enough to be happy?”

I could hear the wisdom in her voice, but it didn’t reach my heart. “You always have a clever answer, Elena.” I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “To be honest, I don’t feel like an heiress. That title is just a name. Without my father’s last name, I’m a nobody.”

Elena sighed, as though she understood, and I appreciated that. She’d been with us since my father’s rise to wealth, and I trusted her more than anyone else in the world. If my father ever decided to find a wife, I would happily recommend Elena to him. She deserved happiness just as much as anyone else.

After she helped me get dressed, I gave her a little something from my latest trip to Chicago. I had gone to meet with Victor Ramos, the renowned architect based in the U.S. His firm had caught the attention of our architectural division, and we wanted him on board. When our representatives failed to secure his signature, I knew I had to step in.

I was lucky. He agreed to work with us after a long conversation. It was only when I mentioned that my father had helped him when he was just starting out that things turned around. Victor said he remembered my father—how he’d helped him when they were neighbors, back in the old days before any of us had anything. I couldn’t recall those years, but I didn’t need to. What mattered was that he was coming to work with us. That was a win.

With a sigh, I walked over to the window after changing into a comfortable dress. From up here, I could see the ocean stretching endlessly. It seemed so close, yet the reality was I had to travel for more than an hour just to reach it.

Another sigh escaped my lips, and I sank back onto my massive bed. The firm had become my world, and home felt… empty. I often wondered if anyone would care about me if my last name weren’t Cruz. Without my father’s name, who would I be?

I had spent so many years trying to live up to his expectations, to make him proud. It was suffocating. But he was the only one who had ever loved me unconditionally, and I owed him everything. At least that’s what I kept telling myself.

I was supposed to rest, but I couldn’t escape the swirling thoughts. At twenty-eight, I was expected to be dating, to have a fiancé, but I had no interest in any of it. I refused to let anyone have power over me. Not now, not ever.

The sound of someone knocking on my door pulled me out of my thoughts. It was time for dinner. When I entered the dining room, I greeted my father as usual, but his expression was unreadable, stern even. “Papa, is something wrong?” I asked, sensing the tension.

“Not really,” he replied, though his tone suggested otherwise. “Isabella, can you be honest with me about your love life? Do you have a boyfriend, or are you dating someone behind my back? Just tell me.”

I pursed my lips, shaking my head. “I’m not interested in men, Papa.” My response stunned him, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at his reaction. “No, I’m not a lesbian!” I clarified, sensing the confusion in his eyes.

“Then why aren’t you interested in men? You’re already twenty-eight, and at your age, I already had you. Look at you now!” He paused, his gaze shifting to something behind my eyes, something he didn’t want to say. “Well, I’ve arranged a deal with the Valeras , and you only have to marry their second son.”

My heart skipped a beat. I blinked several times, trying to process what he’d just said. “What? Why do I have to marry their son?”

“It will benefit the company,” he replied, his words firm.

“By using me?” I snapped, my anger rising. “Papa, how could you do this? We already talked about this. I don’t want to get married, I don’t want to start a family, and I absolutely don’t want anything to do with Adrian Valera!”

“I wanted his older brother, but he’s already engaged! We can’t break that engagement without causing problems for ourselves,” he explained, his voice pleading.

“When I said I didn’t want to get married or have a family, I meant it!” I insisted, my hands gripping the edge of the table. “Even if it strengthens our business, I won’t do it, Papa!”

He frowned, clearly disappointed by my decision, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he tried to soften the blow. “It’s business, Isabella. You know how these things work.”

I knew what he was thinking. He was pushing me into something I didn’t want. And then he dropped the bombshell. “Adrian Valera is coming to see you tomorrow.”

I froze. “Who’s coming?”

“Adrian and his family,” he replied, and I felt my resolve harden.