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.

That was it. I had made up my mind. I would leave the castle. I would disappear, hide, until I could figure out how to escape this fate, this life my father had mapped out for me.

I stared at the empty space around me, still processing the fact that I had finally made the decision to break free. It felt surreal, yet, despite the exhilarating feeling of independence, a looming sense of poverty greeted me. Regret, I knew, would come at some point, but I couldn’t let my father’s relentless pressure to control my marriage hold me back—not when it involved someone as despicable as him.

“Are you okay?”

I snapped out of my thoughts and looked up at the man standing in front of me. My brain was slow to process his presence. As the COO of Cruz Architecture, meeting handsome men wasn’t exactly rare for me. But there was something about this stranger that immediately caught my attention—his athletic frame, and my gaze involuntarily lingered on the veins snaking down his muscular arms.

“I’m fine,” I replied quickly, standing up before his hand could touch my arm. “Please, just forget about me,” I added, brushing him off.

“Are you sure?” His concern felt genuine, and I hated him for it. “You seem lost. Are you new around here?”

He was being friendly, so the least I could do was not be rude. I contemplated walking away, but then an idea struck me. Maybe he could help me find a job. “Actually, yeah. My friend moved away, and now I’m looking for work.”

“I see,” he responded, studying me.

“I’m not a fraud!” I blurted out, my defensiveness getting the best of me. His eyes had scrutinized my appearance, from head to toe, and it made me feel uncomfortable.

“You must be from far away,” he observed.

“Yeah, you could say that. Do you know anyone looking for help around here?”

“I might,” he said thoughtfully.

“I’ll work for meals. I don’t need pay, as long as I can eat.”

“That sounds reasonable,” he said.

Excitement bubbled up inside me. “Can I get the address?” I asked eagerly.

“Well, I can give you a ride,” he offered, his voice low.

The moment he mentioned the ride, my skin prickled. What if he was some kind of criminal looking for his next victim? A chill ran down my spine, my heart racing as he stared at me. I quickly took a step back.

“I’m not sure I should take a ride with a stranger,” I said, the caution in my voice clear.

He stiffened, clearly offended. “I’m just trying to help. If you don’t want it, that’s fine.”

He gave me one last look and then turned to leave. But before I could react, he spoke again.

“Hurry up if you want to come with me.”

His tone was cold, and I had no choice but to hurry and keep pace behind him.

As we approached a sleek, black car, my eyes widened. A limited edition Lexus! Only a select few could afford such a vehicle, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d said something wrong for noticing. “Are you rich?” I asked, the words slipping out before I could stop them. It wasn’t the most tactful question, but I was too curious.

“Maybe,” he replied, his voice nonchalant as though owning a car like this was nothing special.

Despite my reservations, I climbed into his car. My instinct told me to be cautious, but I had no choice—my father’s people could be looking for me, and I couldn’t let them find me.

When he drove through the gates of a mansion, my heart skipped a beat. It was an architectural marvel. The house was not made of plain bricks but designed with grey tones and walnut accents. Tall, rectangular windows stretched across the exterior, arranged in an asymmetrical pattern that made the entire house feel alive. The structure was shaped like an L, with an extension on one side that led to beautifully manicured gardens. The second floor jutted out over the first, creating a striking balcony and overhang.

The roof was high, slanted, and covered In sleek black ceramic tiles, with two small chimneys jutting out from the side. It was a stunning modern design, and the well-maintained garden only added to its beauty.

“This is my home,” he announced, pulling into the driveway.

A sudden sense of dread washed over me. “What do you mean, this is your home?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“You need a job. Well, I also need someone to help around the house—cook, clean, you know, the usual,” he said, as if it was no big deal.

“You’re joking, right? You didn’t mention anything about that in the car!” I retorted, my frustration bubbling to the surface.

“What’s the difference? You need a job, and I need help. It’s simple,” he shrugged.

“Wait, you want me to be your maid?” I asked, my voice incredulous.

He paused for a moment, his expression turning cold. “If you don’t want to work as my maid, you can always be my mistress.”

I felt my jaw drop. “Do you think I’m insane?” I snapped, the reality of the situation dawning on me.

“I’m just giving you an option,” he said, unfazed.

“So, either I work as your maid, or I become your… mistress?” I muttered under my breath, the words almost choking me. “You’re a despicable, arrogant bastard!”

“That sassy attitude of yours, when you’re penniless, might just change my mind,” he said, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

I dropped my gaze to the ground, suddenly feeling small. He was right. I had no leverage, no options.

“My father’s… he’s going to testify, and I can’t go back to him now,” I admitted, my voice faltering. “Please, help me,” I pleaded, hoping that he would show some compassion. But the truth was, I was terrified—terrified of being caught by my father’s men, terrified of facing the consequences.

“As I’ve said before, I need a maid,” he repeated, his voice unwavering.

I wasn’t sure I could handle the job.

But I was stuck in a situation where I had no choice. After all, it was just for a few months. “All right, I’ll do it,” I agreed.

I accepted his offer without thinking of the consequences. I was a quick learner, and I believed that if I applied myself, I could succeed at anything! Even though the idea of working as a maid terrified me, I had no other choice. I needed a place to stay, even temporarily.

“Are you certain?” he asked again, his tone serious. “It won’t be easy.”

“I’ll do my best, sir,” I replied.

“It’s Leo,” he corrected.

“Elena at your service, sir,” I said, using the fake name I’d decided on.

He gave a small nod. “Just call me Leo.”

I couldn’t help but whisper, “What a cheesy name for someone like you.”

He raised an eyebrow, his irritation evident. “What did you say?”

I had my own reasons to be irritated. “Nothing,” I muttered. “By the way, how old are you, Leo?”

“Thirty-two,” he answered coolly. “And you? Are you already eighteen?”

“Twenty-eight,” I said, almost too quickly.