Prologue

"Ms. Manuela Iriz Ibañez, do you take Mr. Uno Juaquin Urquio to be your lawfully wedded husband, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?" The priest's words hung heavy, a prelude to a life irrevocably altered. Manuela, her heart a captive bird, knew this wasn't a choice, but a desperate gamble for her brother's freedom. A chilling bargain struck with the enigmatic Uno Juaquin Urquio, a mafia boss whose icy gaze held both danger and a strange, intoxicating allure.

whisper, a breath against her ear, was a stark contrast to the solemnity of the occasion – "The priest is asking you, Manuela." Her eyes darted to the witnesses: Uno's grandfather, a stoic figure, and her seven-year-old brother, a silent plea in his wide eyes.

The priest's patient query, "Ms. Manuela?", broke the tense silence. Her response, a barely audible "I do," was a surrender, a desperate plea whispered against the roaring tide of her fear.

The ceremony, a stark contrast between sacred vows and a clandestine contract, unfolded with a chilling grace. The priest's pronouncements echoed in the cavernous space, the words "husband and wife" a stark reality that felt both alien and inescapable. Then, the kiss – a fleeting touch, a brand of possession, a silent acknowledgment of their precarious arrangement.

Uno's words, a low murmur against her lips, were a cruel twist of fate: "Let's keep this 365-day marriage our secret. And don't worry, kissing you is the least I'll do." The veiled threat, the raw power in his voice, sent a shiver down her spine.

The congratulations were hollow, the celebratory air thick with unspoken tensions. The jarring ring of Uno's phone shattered the fragile illusion of marital bliss. A call from "Mozart," a cryptic reference to a pressing business matter, ripped Uno away from the newly-minted wife he barely knew.

His grandfather's disappointment was palpable, his words laced with concern: "You're leaving, Juaquin? You just got married!" But Uno's response was cold, calculated. "This shipment is crucial, lolo. My wife understands," he said, his gaze locking with Manuela's. Her forced smile, a mask of compliance, hid the turmoil within.

"Of course, i met Uno with this kind of his business and i understand it."

"Are you sure, Manuela?" Don Victorino asked.

"Don't worry about me, lolo, i'm sure my husband will come back to me immidiately, right?" Manuela said as she smiled at Uno who is looking at her with serious look.

The ensuing conversation was a carefully orchestrated performance, a dance of polite deception. Manuela's feigned understanding, her carefully chosen words, were a testament to her desperate situation. Yet, beneath the surface, a silent rebellion simmered.

As the guests departed, Manuela stood alone, the weight of her new identity pressing down on her. Mrs. Manuela Iriz Urquio. The name was a cage, a contract, a year-long sentence to a life she never chose, yet a life that held the promise – however faint – of a love born from the ashes of a desperate bargain.