2. I Accept

"This woman is my wife!"

At that confession, the blonde wrenched herself free from Emiliano’s grip and ran without hesitating for a single second.

Her heels echoed across the marble floor. She had left her coat on a cabinet in the hallway.

She grabbed it, wrapped it around herself, and ran out, but Emiliano could not let her go.

He used the surge of willpower and adrenaline the encounter had given him and ran after the dancer. His heart pounded violently; the pain in his chest felt like a stab.

He had found her again—after so many years of searching for her trace!

As he ran, his heart ached fiercely.

He burst into the hallway of his building, and when the elevator doors began to close, he ran after her, but he didn’t reach it in time.

"Sara!" he shouted at the closed elevator doors, but he would not let her escape—not this time.

He ran down the stairs at full speed. There were five floors. He jumped two, sometimes three steps at a time. When he reached the first floor, exhausted and sweating, he saw Sara disappear through the building’s entrance at full speed.

Emiliano ran as if his soul were escaping him.

The woman ran toward her car. It was a low, battered red vehicle, scratched and with patches of paint peeling off.

As she tried to open the door, her keys fell to the ground. She looked frightened and nervous, but Emiliano took advantage of the moment to catch up to her. He grabbed her wrist again and turned her to face him.

"Five years. And the first thing you do when you see me is run?"

"Let me go, Emiliano, let go of me! I don’t want to talk to you." The woman’s voice trembled; the situation seemed to hurt her as much as it hurt him.

"I don’t care whether you want to talk to me or not. You can’t appear after all these years and run away. You can’t show up like this after so long and leave me like this." Sara faced him.

"Just let me go, Emiliano. Let me leave." But he shook his head vehemently.

"Of course not. You’re going to tell me right here and now why you abandoned me. You’re going to tell me right here and now where you’ve been these five years, and I’m not letting you go until you do." The car door opened.

Emiliano saw a small brown blur rush out of the car and slam into his leg.

"Thief! Let go of my mommy!"

He grabbed the little one by the collar of his shirt and lifted him to his feet in one quick motion, only to realize he was a small boy with large gray eyes like his own.

"You!"

Sara crouched down, picked up the child who had come out of the car, and gently placed him back in the rear seat.

He leaned down and looked through the window. In the back of the worn-out car sat the boy along with a girl about his same age and a teenager—it was Sara’s sister, whom he recognized despite how much she had grown. The boy pointed at Emiliano, crying.

"Mommy, who is this man?"

"He’s bad," the little girl commented. The boy covered his sister’s eyes so she wouldn’t look.

Emiliano tried to speak, but his voice choked in his throat.

"Is he…?" he tried to ask, but the teenager’s voice interrupted him.

"Sara, what’s going on?"

"Drive. We’re leaving here right now!"

The woman tried to climb into the seat, but Emiliano caught her and gripped her arm tightly.

"Sara, tell me!"

"Of course they aren’t yours. Don’t be an idiot," she said, wrenching herself free from the man’s grip and climbing into the car.

When Emiliano managed to return to reality, it was already too late…

He remained standing there, his soul aching. Seeing her again had stirred feelings he hadn’t believed still existed within him. He loved her just as he had on the first day she had said yes at their wedding. He had always known he would love her, but seeing her again and realizing that sentence still weighed upon him felt like a heavy burden tied to his shoulders.

When he returned to his apartment, all his friends were waiting for him.

"The party’s over. I want you all to get out," he said. No one asked questions. Each man took his things and said goodbye, giving him a brief hug as a farewell for his bachelor night.

Everyone left except Samuel.

"So now are you going to explain what just happened? How is that dancer your wife?" he asked, sitting beside him on the couch. Emiliano kept his gaze lowered. "You mean that Sara—your Sara?"

Emiliano nodded.

"It’s her. It’s her. I can’t believe it’s her."

"Did you manage to talk to her?"

"No. I didn’t, because when she was reaching her car a child came out of it." His friend widened his eyes and held back a laugh.

"Is he yours?"

"How the hell would I know? I didn’t ask. I was so stunned that she took advantage of it and ran away. She escaped."

"She left her son in her car?" his friend asked reproachfully, but Emiliano shrugged.

"Her sister was with him… with them. Well, I think it was her sister. The last time I saw her she was just a little girl. I don’t understand what’s happening. I don’t understand why she came back into my life right now when I thought I had already gotten over her. Now that I’ve seen her, I think I haven’t."

"Wait, wait. You said she was your wife. You never divorced?" Emiliano shook his head vehemently.

"How could I divorce her? We were fine, and one morning she wasn’t beside me and she disappeared without a note, without a word. She simply vanished. I knew she wasn’t dead because her family told me so. They told me she didn’t want to see me anymore. I never divorced."

"And if you never divorced Sara, how are you getting married tomorrow?" Emiliano shrugged.

"You know how my father is. He has a lot of power and influence. He simply annulled my marriage to Sara—or I don’t know. I don’t care right now. I can’t think about that… that boy..."

"Do you think he’s your son?"

"There were two! No, I don’t know. She told me they weren’t, but there wasn’t time to ask more. Where did you say you hired her?"

Samuel searched his pockets until he found a card and showed it to him. On it were the phone number and the address of the place.

"Alright, my friend. I see you want to be alone. If you don’t want to get married, I support you—I’ll come get you. If you want, I’ll shout ‘I object,’" he joked, but Emiliano didn’t laugh. "See you tomorrow morning at the church then."

Emiliano nodded.

"See you tomorrow at the church."

The night that followed was horrible. He didn’t sleep at all. He held tightly to the card from the company where Sara worked and read it so many times he memorized every last number.

When morning came, he got ready. He showered, dressed, and prepared himself.

He was the president of one of the most important fashion companies in America. He had to look presentable, so later that morning a team arrived to prepare him.

They covered the dark circles under his eyes with makeup and styled his hair, and the moment he stepped out of the building a swarm of photographers caught up with him.

His security team pushed them aside, and he climbed into the back of his car. He arrived at the church, walked toward the altar, and stood there.

He was incapable of facing his father, his sisters, or any of the guests.

He simply stood there at the altar looking at the judge. It was a civil wedding; he had refused to marry in a church. He had married Sara in a church, and he had believed that was for life.

He imagined it might have mattered to his fiancée not to marry him in a church, but Lara was a submissive and quiet woman. She had accepted Emiliano’s decision without a single protest.

The wedding march began to play. When Emiliano raised his eyes, he saw the redhead walking toward him accompanied by her father.

With that marriage, a great business deal for Casa Monter would be sealed, so it had been an implicit order from his father: if he didn’t marry that man’s daughter, the two companies could not do business together. It was an agreement like those of ancient times.

The woman who stopped before him at the altar was attractive, with large emerald-green eyes and dark copper hair. She truly loved him. During the months they had been seeing each other, Emiliano had understood that she truly cared for him, and he felt like a monster standing there doing this—but it was clear to her as well that it was nothing more than a business arrangement. She should understand that.

The ceremony began, and Emiliano kept his head lowered the entire time. He couldn’t get Sara out of his mind—her blond hair, her large eyes… those children in the car.

"Do you accept Lara Smith as your lawful wife, to love and respect her, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?" the judge asked.

Emiliano raised his head toward the woman’s greenish eyes and could feel his father’s firm gaze on his back. He opened his mouth to answer, but then closed it again. Everyone in the church noticed the hesitation.

A clear feeling formed in Emiliano’s chest—one of rage. He was certain those children were his. Why had Sara denied it? Why was she lying to him like that? But he wouldn’t let her go. He wouldn’t allow her to keep him away from his children. He wouldn’t allow it. Even if he hated her for it, he had to keep her close. He would close off every possibility for her. He would force her to tell him the truth, and he would make her suffer just as she had made him suffer all those years… but the wedding.

He lifted his eyes to the bride’s green eyes. He had to do it. If he didn’t, Casa Monter would collapse, and he had to protect the legacy his grandfather had left him. So when he spoke, his voice trembled with helplessness.

"I accept."

The celebration they held was very small—so small that only Emiliano’s triplet sisters and his father were there, along with Lara’s father and about twenty or twenty-five guests.

The entire time, Emiliano stayed away from his wife. He didn’t want to look at her face; he didn’t want to think about the years he would have to spend with her while the doubt of what had happened with Sara gnawed at his insides. So when dawn approached, he took his wife’s hand and led her out of the party.

"I think we should go," he told her. The girl nodded. She looked nervous and happy. Emiliano took her home, showed her where the bedroom was, and then turned to leave.

"You’re leaving?" she asked, and he murmured,

"I have something to do. I’ll be back in a couple of hours."

The woman couldn’t hide the sadness on her face, but she said nothing more.

Emiliano couldn’t survive another second without unleashing all the resentment he felt toward Sara. He got into the car they had arrived in and told his driver the address of the place where Sara worked.

When he arrived, he stood in front of the receptionist and looked at her fiercely.

"Sara Fansheri. Where is she?"

The woman looked at him with wide eyes.

"I’m sorry, but I can’t give out information about our employees."

"Oh, you will give it to me. My name is Emiliano Monter, CEO of Casa Monter, and you’re going to tell me where I can find my wife—or this place will face the consequences."