Episode 4

Two years earlier.

Selene looked at herself in the mirror of the bridal suite and, for a moment, her reflection showed her the image of an angel. The white dress — a piece of French lace and silk — clung to her body with a breathtaking elegance. Her smile was a flash of light she couldn't have suppressed even if she'd tried, and her blue eyes shone more brightly than ever, carrying the hope of someone who believes she is about to seal a pact of eternal love with the man of her dreams.

But the crystal bubble Selene lived in was about to shatter into a thousand pieces.

The door of the suite burst open. Selene expected to see one of her bridesmaids or the seamstress, but instead a woman a few years older than her walked into the room. Her presence radiated force and determination; she was impeccably dressed, but her face was a mask of hatred. Her eyes were loaded with a fury so intense that Selene felt a chill crawl down her spine.

"So you're the famous Selene," said the stranger, sweeping her gaze over the bride with pure contempt, as if the white dress were a personal insult.

"Yes. And who are you?" the young woman asked, intrigued and trying to maintain her composure despite the intrusion.

"You've got some nerve acting like you don't know who I am," the woman spat, stepping toward her. "But I know exactly who you are. And I'm telling you right now — I won't allow you to take the love of my life away from me."

Selene froze. The air in the room seemed to grow heavy, unbreathable. She had no idea what was happening until the stranger revealed her identity with a cruel smile that never reached her eyes.

"I'm Alessandra Villarreal. The woman Maximiliano truly loves."

The name struck Selene like a physical blow. She had heard the rumors; she knew that Maximiliano, before meeting her, had planned to marry a woman named Alessandra. She also knew that the Valente family had intervened to break off that engagement, since the Villarreal name lacked the prestige and lineage that Maximiliano's social circle demanded.

"I'm sorry for what happened between you," Selene managed to say, swallowing hard and pressing her fists against the silk of her skirt. "But I have nothing to do with your past. So I'm asking you, please, to leave my room."

Selene tried to suppress the rage that threatened to consume her. She couldn't understand how this woman had the audacity to confront her on her wedding day. But what came next was a blade driven straight into her heart.

"Past? Don't be naive, girl." Alessandra moved close enough that Selene could smell her expensive perfume. "Maximiliano doesn't want you. He bought you to keep his family quiet and clean up your father's name. All this time, he and I have continued our relationship. In fact — just last night we spent the night together in my apartment. While you were dreaming of white flowers, he was in my bed."

"You're lying!" Selene cried, her voice breaking. "I won't believe anything from a bitter, scorned woman who can't accept that her time is over. Maximiliano loves me."

Blinded by rage, Alessandra raised her hand to strike Selene — but the movement was cut short by the abrupt entrance of Roberto Arismendi. The man, impatient with the delay and afraid his daughter might change her mind about the transaction that would save his company, burst in with a flushed face.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Roberto demanded, glaring at the intruder.

"Well, well — the pimp has arrived," Alessandra laughed, unintimidated. "Tell her, Roberto. Tell your little 'jewel' the truth. How much did Maximiliano pay for her? What was the exact price of the sale?"

Alessandra had no intention of stopping until the wedding was called off and the scandal destroyed the Valentes' plans.

"Get out of here!" Roberto roared, watching his house of cards wobble. "Security!"

Roberto grabbed the woman by the arm and dragged her out of the room, handing her over to the guards waiting in the corridor.

"Get her out of here right now. And nobody breathes a word of this, understood?"

When the door closed again, the silence that remained in the room was sepulchral. Roberto came back inside and found his daughter in tears, her makeup ruined and her soul in pieces.

"Forget this," Roberto ordered, without a trace of paternal consideration. "Dry your eyes, fix your face, and get ready. It's time to go meet your husband."

Selene stared at him with disbelief. She couldn't comprehend how her own father could act as though nothing had happened after hearing accusations like those.

"That woman said terrible things, Dad. I want to know if they're true. I want the truth."

"The truth doesn't matter right now," Roberto snapped. "Just concentrate on being happy with the man you chose. You have a life of luxury ahead of you — what more could you want?"

"No," said Selene, rising to her feet with a dignity that surprised her father. "I want to know how much you asked for me. How much did Maximiliano Valente pay you for me to be standing in this dress today?"

Roberto was silent for a moment, weighing his answer. In the end, greed won over whatever trace of ethics remained.

"Enough to keep my company afloat and save our name. Be satisfied knowing you're his greatest investment, Selene. You should be proud."

Selene felt the world spin. She felt stupid — cheap merchandise in the hands of the two men who were supposed to protect her. Her father, the man who had given her nothing but coldness and contempt since she could remember, had auctioned her off to the highest bidder.

"Then I want half," said Selene, with a coldness born of pain. "I want half of whatever Maximiliano paid for me. It's only fair — I'm the only one making any sacrifice in this twisted game."

Roberto let out a dry, cruel laugh that made Selene step backward.

"Don't be foolish, girl. I'm not giving you a single cent. Did you think raising you all these years, giving you an education and clothes, was going to be free? Consider this the payment of your overdue bills."

"Then I won't get married," Selene declared — though inside she was terrified. Her father had always inspired a deep fear in her. "I won't be part of this circus. I'd rather be poor than be Maximiliano's slave."

Roberto's eyes darkened, narrowing to two slits of pure malice. He moved within inches of her, invading her personal space in a way that was openly threatening.

"Listen to me carefully, girl," he whispered in a voice that turned her blood to ice. "If you don't walk out of here and marry that man today, you'll watch your beloved aunt vanish from the face of the earth. Don't test me, Selene. Unless you want to end up alone, penniless, with a corpse on your conscience."

Selene choked back a cry. Her aunt was the only person who had ever truly loved her. She looked at her father and, for the first time, saw not a parent but a monster.

With no options left, her heart dead and the veil as heavy as a lead slab, Selene retouched her makeup in front of the mirror. Her eyes no longer shone. They were two pools of cold glass.

That day, Selene Arismendi walked toward the altar not to marry the love of her life, but to sign her own living death sentence. And Maximiliano Valente, watching her approach, thought his investment looked beautiful — never knowing he had just purchased a woman who would spend every minute of her existence planning the day he would have to pay the price of his contempt.

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