Episode 5

The scent of lavender was the first sign that he wasn't alone in the room.

Fernando opened his eyes slowly, waking up in his own room in the Lopez mansion. His body felt heavy, his mouth tasted bitter from the hangover, and the light coming through the curtains seemed to hurt more than illuminate.

For a few seconds, he wasn't sure how he had gotten home. Then, flashes of the previous night returned: the nightclub door, the black car, Maria del Pilar's stern look, and Raul's firm hand.

He was still in his suit, the tie loose and the shirt wrinkled.

The curtain filtered the morning light, casting a golden glow on the armchair near the window. There, sitting with erect posture and an open book on her lap, was Maria del Pilar.

"Finally awake," her voice was calm, but carried a tone that always reminded him that, since childhood, there was no room for excuses or laziness.

"Did you come to watch me while I sleep?" he murmured, trying to sit up.

"I came to make sure you wouldn't run away from me before we talked," she replied, closing the book unhurriedly. "It's time to stop this nonsense."

Fernando ran his hand over his face, as if to erase the previous night.

"If you came to talk about Valeria..."

"I didn't come to talk about ghosts," the matriarch interrupted him, with a sharp voice. "I came to talk about your future," her voice firm as a sharpened steel.

He leaned back on the headboard, resigned.

"And what future is that?"

Maria del Pilar stood up, walking to the window. She opened the curtain a little and let the light flood the room, making him squint.

"You're 30 years old, Fernando. Thirty! You're the oldest of my grandchildren. You're the man in the line of succession, heir to an empire that your grandfather built. And until now, all you've done is drag yourself all over Madrid like a directionless boy."

"I..."

"You're going to get out of this bed, take a shower, and become a man! A Lopez! Alejandro wasn't trained for this position, and you know that. I'm not old enough to stay ahead of the organization," she turned, resting her hands on the windowsill. "We have to honor your grandfather's word. And your union with Elena Gutierrez is necessary."

"Are you saying I need to get married to be accepted?"

"I'm saying you need to get married because that's the path that was laid out for you," she looked at him so directly that he felt like he was an 8-year-old boy being scolded again. "And that path has a name: Elena Gutierrez."

He closed his eyes, massaging his temple.

"I haven't seen her in years. And if I remember correctly, she was a child."

"That's not a problem. She's 20 years old now, she's not a child anymore. Elena knows who you are. She always knew that one day you would marry. She's been waiting for it since she was 10 years old. She was trained to be an exemplary wife, she didn't attend parties or universities, she was educated by the best teachers and kept to be a pure wife."

Fernando laughed, without humor.

"It sounds like a distorted fairy tale..."

"It's not a fairy tale, it's tradition," her voice dropped a tone, almost an authoritarian whisper. "The marriage between our family and the Gutierrez is not just a union. It's a pact sealed decades ago. Your grandfather Arturo Gutierrez decided this long before you two understood the meaning of the word"commitment"."

He got out of bed, started walking around the room, feeling the weight of each word.

"What if I say I don't want to?"

Maria del Pilar didn't move.

"Then Fernando, tell me: do you want to continue getting involved with women who disappear in the middle of the night? Do you want to spend another 10 years deciding if you're ready? Do you want to see the entire Lopez name in the gutter?"

The silence that followed was almost palpable. She knew where to press. She knew which wounds to poke until the resistance began to give way.

"Life is made of choices and sometimes they are not the choices we want, but the ones we need to make," she approached slowly, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Elena will be a good wife. Beautiful, educated, discreet... pure. She will have strong and healthy children. And, above all, she will keep the family exactly where it has always been: at the top."

......................

Throughout the day, Fernando tried to occupy himself with meetings and documents, but his grandmother's words echoed like a distant bell. Every argument he tried to formulate against the marriage crumbled before reality: there was no life outside that network of alliances and interests.

At dinner time, Maria del Pilar didn't bring up the subject. She talked about politics, about the weather, about charity events, but as she got up from the table, she gave the sentence:

"In a week, I will give the answer to the Gutierrez, I want to believe that it will be what I expect."

......................

In the early morning, Fernando was alone in the library. His youngest brother, Rodrigo Lopez, at 20 years old was already a brave "executor", Alejandro Lopez, at 25 years old was almost the brain of the organization, the "counselor", always making strategic decisions and taking care of the numerous front companies, since his face was little known.

Fernando poured himself a whiskey, sat in the armchair and watched the golden liquid swirl in the glass. The lit fireplace projected flickering shadows on the walls lined with books.

He thought a lot about his grandmother's words...

He was the oldest. He had to do what was expected of him. He made a silent toast to his grandfather.

He should take Valeria Garcia out of his heart and marry Elena Gutierrez, only then would his grandfather be at eternal rest.

The only memory he had of the bride sitting at his parents' wake, her feet barely touching the floor, a child dressed in black...

Now she was 20 years old...

Fernando imagined the life he would have with her: formalities to show himself as a man of respect, children... Yes, he could do that, his life would be stable.

He remembered his parents, who died too early, and his grandfather, whose authority had shaped his every step. The men of the Lopez family had made strategic marriages. Maybe that's what was expected of him.

The next morning, he sat down at the table for breakfast and without further ado, said:

"Tell Arturo Gutierrez that the marriage will happen... Set the date. I don't want to know the details, just tell me the day and time, I will be present."

"I knew you would make the right decision."

"I didn't make the right decision, I made the necessary decision."

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