Chapter 1: The signature they would never get
—Transfer both condos to Mateo NOW, or there’s no wedding!
Sofía Valdés slammed a thick property transfer folder against Camila Benítez’s chest, grabbing her wrist in front of two hundred guests. Crystal chandeliers illuminated the luxurious ballroom, white roses perfumed the air, and champagne glasses hovered in the hands of people who had just discovered that this wedding would not be what they had expected.
Camila, thirty-two, remained motionless inside her white silk dress. The lace on her sleeves brushed against the folder. A golden feather fell onto the carpet as Sofia opened the documents.
Across the hall, Mateo Rivas, her fiancé, adjusted his silver cufflinks.
He didn’t take a step towards her.
“Just sign, Camila,” he ordered. “Let’s not make a scene.”
Camila looked at him as if she had just seen him for the first time.
—Matthew, what is this?
“Routine paperwork,” he replied, without bothering to approach. “My mom explained to you that we need to reorganize some properties before we get married.”
Sofia let out a dry laugh. She wore a custom-made silver dress, diamond earrings, and a gold necklace that sparkled in the lights. At sixty-three, she dominated conversations with the same ease with which she dominated her son.
“Don’t play innocent, dear. Those San Diego condos will be better managed by Mateo. A married woman doesn’t need to worry about investments.”
Camila looked down at the documents.
Two properties. Both purchased before she met Mateo. Both paid for with money she had earned long before he came into her life.
—And why do they have to be in your name today?
Sofia squeezed her wrist tighter.
—Because tomorrow might be too late.
In the front rows, Mateo’s aunt put her hand to her mouth. A waiter placed a tray on a side table. Someone muttered that it was a disgrace.
Camila looked into her fiancé’s eyes.
She had imagined this moment for months: Mateo holding her hand, promising they would build a life together. She remembered the nights he stayed at her Los Angeles apartment, talking about their future while she reviewed financial reports on her computer.
He always said he wanted to be a good husband.
He had never said that he wanted to be the master of his own life.
“Mateo,” she insisted. “Tell me you didn’t know anything about this.”
He finally approached, but not to free her.
—My love, don’t complicate things. Sign it and then we’ll celebrate.
—Are you asking me to hand over my properties in front of your entire family?
—I’m asking you to trust me.
Sofia pushed the pen against Camila’s fingers.
—Your future husband deserves some reassurance. After everything he’s done for you, the least you can do is show him you’re a grateful woman.
Camila felt the cold metal between her fingers.
For two years she had endured Sofia’s comments about her clothes, her friends, and how she managed her money. She had listened to the woman describe her professional success as fleeting luck. She had allowed Mateo to convince her that her mother was simply a difficult person, someone who needed time to accept her.
Now he understood that Sofia’s cruelty was not an isolated flaw.
It was a strategy.
Camila yanked her wrist free. The feather flew from her hand and hit the gift table.
“Did you plan this together?” he asked.
Mateo bowed his head and lowered his voice.
—Don’t embarrass us.
She studied his face. Not a hint of concern for his well-being. Not a single question about how he felt. Only fear that two hundred guests would see what he truly was.
Camila breathed slowly.
Then he stopped struggling.
“Okay,” he said.
Sofia smiled immediately.
—See? I knew you’d come to your senses.
The woman smoothed down the documents and indicated the signature line. Mateo relaxed so much that he even allowed an arrogant smile to appear on his lips.
“That’s more like it,” he murmured. “After the ceremony, we can talk about other things.”
Camila looked up.
—And the other things?
Matthew blinked.
—Nothing important.
She glanced at the table where the gifts, the five-tiered cake, and a wireless microphone for the toasts were laid out. To one side, a huge screen awaited the newlyweds’ photographs.
His expression changed.
She no longer looked like a humiliated woman.
He looked like someone who had just confirmed a suspicion.
—Ladies and gentlemen— Camila announced, taking the microphone—, I apologize for making you waste your afternoon.
The room fell completely silent.
Mateo stopped smiling.
Camila took off her engagement ring. She held it between two fingers for a moment, remembering the night Mateo knelt before her on a Malibu terrace and swore he would never let anyone hurt her.
