4

Three weeks later.

In one of the elegant suites reserved for the day’s event, a twenty-three-year-old woman sat silently before the vanity.

Her white wedding gown draped gracefully over her figure, the soft fabric glowing under the morning light. Her neatly styled black hair framed a calm face that betrayed no hint of joy—only quiet resignation.

Isabella Hernando stared at her reflection. She knew she was supposed to feel excited, but all she felt was a hollow ache in her chest.

Today was her wedding day—to Miguel Martez, a man she hadn’t seen since childhood. She had asked Mrs. Martez if she could meet him beforehand, but Miguel was always too busy.

He’d only sent her two short messages: the first saying he’d meet her with his mother to prepare for the wedding, and the second—days later—apologizing that he couldn’t make it and would leave everything to “the ladies.”

Mrs. Martez had assured her there was nothing to worry about. Yet an uneasy feeling lingered in Isabella’s heart, one she couldn’t shake no matter how she tried.

“Look at you, Bella,” her mother’s soft voice broke her reverie. “You look beautiful. Just like when you were little… only now, more grown-up.”

Isabella offered a small smile. “Thank you, Mom.”

“I’m sure Miguel will be surprised when he sees you,” added Mrs. Martez, taking a seat beside them. “He rarely talks about women, but somehow I have a feeling you two will be perfect for each other.”

Isabella nodded, though her thoughts drifted elsewhere. How could she marry someone who didn’t even know her anymore?

Still, saying no would only break the hearts of the two women who believed this marriage was destiny.

A sudden, rapid knock on the door shattered the fragile calm.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

The two older women exchanged startled glances. Mrs. Martez rose.

“Who is it?”

A deep, hurried male voice came from the other side. “Mom, it’s me—Max.”

There was urgency in his tone, almost commanding.

When the door opened, Maximilian Martez filled the doorway—tall, composed, yet visibly tense.

“Mom, I need to speak with you. Now.”

“What is it, Max?” Mrs. Martez asked, alarmed by the edge in his voice.

“Please—outside.” His tone was clipped, urgent.

Seeing the severity in his expression, Mrs. Martez hesitated but finally nodded. She turned back to the women inside.

“Wait here for a moment, okay? Something urgent came up.”

The door closed behind her, and Isabella caught only a glimpse of the man’s broad shoulders and the determined line of his stride.

Isabella exchanged a puzzled glance with her mother.

“That man… he’s Miguel’s older brother, right?” Mrs. Hernando asked.

Isabella nodded slowly. “I think so.”

Something about his voice struck her—familiar somehow. Her heart whispered a quiet warning. Why did his voice sound as if I’d heard it before?

---

Meanwhile, in the quiet corridor outside, Maximilian walked briskly, his jaw tight. He led his mother toward a secluded corner, away from prying eyes.

“Mom, please don’t panic,” he said in a low, strained voice. “I just got a message from Miguel.”

Mrs. Martez frowned, confused. “A message?”

Maximilian pulled out his phone and showed her the text that had arrived minutes earlier.

Sorry, Mom. I can’t marry Isabella. I’m not ready for an arranged marriage. Please don’t try to find me. — Miguel

For a moment, Mrs. Martez just stared. The color drained from her face.

“No… this must be a joke. Miguel wouldn’t—he couldn’t…”

Her voice cracked mid-sentence.

“Mom, calm down,” Maximilian said quickly, gripping her shoulders. “I tried calling him, but his number’s inactive. What matters now is that we stop this wedding before things get worse.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she shook her head. “No, Max! We can’t! The guests are already here—the hall is full! How am I supposed to explain this to the Hernandos?”

“Mom, we don’t have a choice!”

“Choice?” she cried, voice trembling. “Do you know what this means for me? Ever since your father passed, they’ve looked down on me! They said I wasn’t fit to carry the Martez name!”

She covered her face with both hands, sobbing. “If the wedding is canceled, they’ll laugh at me. They’ll say I failed as a mother who couldn’t even marry off her own son!”

Maximilian’s heart clenched as he watched her crumble. “Mom…”

She suddenly grasped his hand, her voice breaking. “Your brother always obeyed me before, but you—Max—you’re the only one who can save our family’s name now.”

He stared at her, disbelief flickering in his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re suggesting—”

“Please, son,” she whispered desperately. “Marry Isabella in Miguel’s place.”

Maximilian froze. For a moment, everything fell silent—his thoughts, the faint hum of the corridor, even his breath.

“Mom, do you even realize what you’re asking?” he said, his voice low and shaking with restrained emotion.

“If you don’t,” Mrs. Martez pleaded, “Mrs. Hernando will think we’ve humiliated their daughter. Both our families’ reputations will be destroyed. I can’t let that happen.”

Tears streamed freely down her face. “Mrs. Hernando is my friend. Her life hasn’t been easy since her husband passed—she raised Isabella alone. If this wedding collapses now, I couldn’t face her again.”

She clutched his hand tighter, desperation etched across her face. “Please, Max… just this once. Save our family. Save her dignity.”

Her voice trembled. “Isabella is a good girl. I know it’s unfair, but… please, son. For all our sakes.”

Maximilian closed his eyes. The air felt thick and suffocating.

He didn’t even know her face. And yet, his mother was asking him to marry her.

Outside, faint music drifted from the ballroom—the wedding march beginning to play.

Their time had run out.