~~Elena~~
I need to stop this. No matter how much I crave his touch, nothing will change the fact that he’s my fiancé’s uncle. This complication isn’t just about me, Grandma’s life is entangled in it too. “We need to stop this, Uncle,” I said, forcing courage into my voice. I had to draw the line, to remind both him and myself of who he truly was. Silence filled the night air as he said nothing. I wondered if he was still here. I quickly turned, and there he was, his figure standing tall in the shadows. Then he moved. Slowly. Each step echoed like a warning, deliberate and unhurried. his hands buried in his pockets, his crisp white sleeves rolled to the elbows, three buttons undone at his collar. We have to stop,” I repeated, my voice barely steady, as if he hadn’t heard me the first time. Or maybe I was trying to convince myself more than him. There was no trace of emotion in his face.he felt so unbothered as if my words meant nothing. “Is that what you wanted?” he asked, his voice cold yet husky. My heart sank. That wasn’t what I wanted, not truly. But the moment I tried to reply, the words stuck in my throat, and I knew if I spoke, I might regret it forever. “Alright. I’ll stop,” he said. The words cut through me like a blade. They were mine-I had suggested them-yet hearing them from his lips broke something inside me. Because deep down, I craved him more than I could ever admit. He was a powerful man, Desired, Respected, and surrounded by beautiful women willing to bend to his will. I am sure to him, I was just another temptation easily discarded. I watched his back as he walked toward the door, every step pulling him further away from me. I could hear my body screaming , at this moment I wanted to run to him, hug him from the back and beg him to stay, to tell him I was just joking. But I couldn’t. Grandma’s life still hung in the balance. I have to let him go. Meeting him was a mistake to begin with. ***************** I felt the warmth of the morning sun brushing across my face. My eyelid was so heavy as I tried to open it slowly. It's Morning already. I must have cried myself to sleep, because the ache in my chest was still fresh, “Good morning, ma’am,” the maid’s voice broke softly into my thoughts. She stood by the door, her tone polite but cautious, as if she could still sense the storm in me. “The Elder asked you to join the family for breakfast,” she added. For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling. Breakfast with the family?I just hoped I wouldn’t meet him at the dining table. With trembling hands, I pushed myself up. Instead of heading straight downstairs, I went in to freshen up. The cold splash of water against my face did little to wash away the puffiness of my eyes. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, trying to piece together the version of myself that everyone expected to see, Composed, and Untouched. I stepped down and noticed he was not there. I sighed in relief. I walked closer, studying their expressions. The old man had a big smile on his face, warm and welcoming as always. The woman, just like before, made it clear she disliked me, every glance sharp, every movement dripping with judgement. My fiancé didn’t even spare me a glance, as if I care. “Elena, how was your night? Hope you slept well,” the old man said, his wide smile filling the room. I gave a small nod in response, a simple gesture of greeting, though my mind was spinning. My eyes scanned the dining table-five chairs arranged neatly: two on the right, two on the left, and one at the edge. The old man and his daughter were already seated on the right side, so I decided to join my fiancé on the other side. The table was a display of wealth and refinement. Golden cutlery, fine porcelain plates were set with delicate patterns, and crystal glasses shimmered. Freshly baked croissants, flaky pastries, and warm bread baskets were placed alongside small dishes of butter, jam, and local Madrid cheeses. A carafe of freshly squeezed orange juice and a steaming pot of café con leche completed the spread. “You are such a well-behaved girl,” the old man added, his voice warm, almost approving. “She’s well-behaved… and she kept us waiting,” the woman muttered coldly, her tone dripping with disdain. “Grandpa, I'm sure you didn't call so early for breakfast. Hope there’s some good news,” Carlos said, trying to lighten the mood. “You left your fiancé all alone last night,” the old man said, his voice calm and cold. “Starting from today onward,You have to come home every day because, both of you have to cultivate feelings, so I can see my great-grandson,” I almost choked at the old man’s voice. “Wait… what? A child? With this man? Never!” “Grandpa, I’m not ready to be a father,” Carlos said, his tone sharp and disrespectful. Thank goodness he doesn’t want to have a child with me either. “Uncle!” Carlos said excitedly. My heart sank into my stomach. Wait… what? He’s still around?~~Elena~~ I sat down at the café near the street, scrolling through my phone while I tried to exercise patience, Mariana was always busy. Being the only child, she often spent time at the hospital helping her dad, who was a surgeon. “One iced café con leche ” I said. “Two, please,” a familiar voice added. I looked up, it was Mariana, still in her lab coat. I chuckled softly. “Why are you still wearing that?” She shook her head in frustration,as she pulled out a chair in front of me, and sat down. The waiter dropped our cups on the table, and Mariana quickly took a long sip, still on her upper lip. I watched her with a smile,I could feel how exhausted she was. “I’m really exhausted. I don’t want to be a doctor. I want to be a model, just like Valentina Morales,” she said. As soon as the words left her mouth, she snapped the chair closer. Our eyes met, and we both knew exactly what we wanted to say. This sudden meeting was about Alejandro. She took another sip be
~~Alejandro~~ Last night was chaos in my own head. I couldn’t sleep. Her words wouldn’t leave me. Uncle, we need to stop. That one word-Uncle-cut deep. A reminder of the line she wanted between us. She asked for space, and I’ll give it to her. But God, I crave her. Every curve, every breath of hers drives me insane. Yet I know,if I force it, I’ll lose her and my ego. And I don’t beg for attention. Not from anyone. Especially not from a young woman like her. At breakfast, I caught her stealing glances at me. She thinks I didn’t see, but I did. And yes, I stole some too. She was restless, uncomfortable, and it fueled me in ways I shouldn’t admit. Then my father, in his usual bluntness, told me it was time to settle down. The moment he said it, she nearly choked. My chest tightened. Why that reaction? Does she feel what I feel? The question burned on my tongue, but I held it back. I don’t ask, I watch, I control. And then he had to mention Valentina. My childhood shadow. Our families
~~Elena~~ I tried to stay calm. The sound of my heartbeat grew louder. I thought he had already left. Carlos quickly adjusted his chair and he sat down majestically. I slowly raised my head to look at him, but he didn't even spare me a glance. I felt so broken. The entire room was filled with an awkward silence, everyone seems to be uncomfortable by his presence, I wasn't excluded either. Right now I felt like going back to my room. Suddenly, the woman cracked her voice, breaking the silence. "Jandro, I know controlling the office is a bit stressful... wh... what if Carlos assists you in the office?" she said with a breaking voice. He sipped his café con leche without even saying a word. She quietly shoved the old man's hand, indirectly asking him to say something. But he didn't. I sipped my orange juice, hoping this awkward breakfast would finally come to an end. "Alejandro, I think it's time you settle down also," the old man said. His words came so unexpectedly that I alm
~~Elena~~ I need to stop this. No matter how much I crave his touch, nothing will change the fact that he’s my fiancé’s uncle. This complication isn’t just about me, Grandma’s life is entangled in it too. “We need to stop this, Uncle,” I said, forcing courage into my voice. I had to draw the line, to remind both him and myself of who he truly was. Silence filled the night air as he said nothing. I wondered if he was still here. I quickly turned, and there he was, his figure standing tall in the shadows. Then he moved. Slowly. Each step echoed like a warning, deliberate and unhurried. his hands buried in his pockets, his crisp white sleeves rolled to the elbows, three buttons undone at his collar. We have to stop,” I repeated, my voice barely steady, as if he hadn’t heard me the first time. Or maybe I was trying to convince myself more than him. There was no trace of emotion in his face.he felt so unbothered as if my words meant nothing. “Is that what you wanted?” he asked,
~~Alejandro~~ I don’t know anything about my mum. She died while giving birth to me–or so I heard. Some said she was a mistress, others claimed she was the real wife. The truth behind that, I don’t know, and I don’t care either. I lived with my dad during my childhood, and I had watched countless women try to play the stepmother role, just because my father was wealthy. Growing up, many of them used tricks and schemes to get my attention, but every single one of those games was already familiar to me. Last week, my assistant informed me that my father was planning to find a wife for his grandson. Another woman in the house, I thought with disgust. Fifteen years ago, my stepsister barged into our lives with her son, claiming Rodriguez blood. I was certain it was a scam- another woman clawing for fortune. But the truth proved otherwise. She was one of us. And in those fifteen years, she has reminded me of one thing: women will sell their souls for money. They’ll trade dignity for
~~Elena~~Just like when he had entered the bar, everything around him seemed to bend to his presence. “Oh my God…” My mouth fell open in awe as I struggled to understand why he was here. Every memory of last night came flooding back, the way he moved, the way he looked at me, the way he made me feel, and I couldn’t stop the flush creeping across my skin. “Hello, Uncle,” my so-called fiancé said, dismissing his hands from his love and running to him like a puppy who had just seen its master. “Uncle…” I mustered out, almost losing my balance. What the heck have I done? I slept with my fiancé’s uncle! He moved closer, each step deliberate, unhurried, as though the entire room belonged to him. My chest tightened. Feeling a wave of shame and guilt, I slowly lowered my head. “Why do I feel like I’ve seen this face before?” he murmured, his voice low yet powerful, carrying across the silence like a challenge. It wasn’t a question—it was a statement, heavy with authority, as though he