Evy A few days later... Every girl's dream wedding. I think, looking at the long white lace dress, with its delicate high collar and sleeves trailing down my arms. A beautiful and delicate tiara, adorned with tiny sparkling stones, secures a full bun resembling beautiful dark brown petals. Anxiously, I let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh. "Do this with your mouth," the makeup artist asks after applying the lipstick, a soft shade of red that perfectly complements the daytime makeup. "Perfect!" he chirps, clapping frantically, prompting a half-smile from me. It doesn't take long before I'm holding a bouquet of beautiful white lilies with tiny pink jasmines, walking into a church adorned entirely with the same flowers, tulle, and silk ribbons in the same color. Yet, there are only a few people in the countless pews. An organ announces my entrance, and soon all eyes are on me. I clutch the bouquet to contain my nerves, force a smile of a happy and passionate bride, and focus on th

Evy In the morning, I wake up somewhat excited and earlier than expected. I take a quick shower, put on a pleated miniskirt, choose a blouse tied at my belly button, and finally slip into a pair of sneakers. I tie my hair into a ponytail and put on sunglasses. Soon, I'm leaving the room and heading down the hallway. In the living room, I find my "husband" handling a shotgun with great care, meticulously cleaning it. My eyes quickly scan his khaki pants, black boots, and up to a leaf-green shirt with the top three buttons undone, revealing a nearly hairless chest. I take a deep breath and enter the room, catching his attention. As expected, Mr. D'Angelo glances over my attire eagerly, a sparkle in his eyes, pressing his lips together. I maintain a serious demeanor, though inside, I'm tempted to laugh at such a provocation. Men! However, to my surprise, he composes himself too quickly, returning to handling the object as if nothing had happened. I sigh in frustration. "Good morning, Mr

Evy "Hiking trails, waterfall baths, climbing, hunting, dinners, and toasts by the fireplace. Thinking about it, our honeymoon wasn't so bad after all. I might even say I got to know a side of Mr. D'Angelo that he's keen on hiding. Away from business, he's just a surprising young man with good conversation and an easy smile. And what a smile! "We'll be leaving in a few minutes!" Gael announces, giving two knocks on my bedroom door. "Okay!" I shout so he can hear me and focus on packing my bags. Initially, this place scared me a lot, and I was furious at the thought of being stuck here without a cell phone, TV, or anything to distract me. However, I confess I'll miss this place, and all this nature. Its sounds, and even your company, because when we return to the city, he'll revert to being Mr. D'Angelo again. I know it. "Good Lord, woman, what are you doing in there?!" He growls irritably, and I scoff at his impatience. I close the suitcase and finally open the door. Gael immediat

Evy "I park the car in the mansion's vast garage and hurriedly walk inside, shrugging. If the butler hasn't spilled the beans, D’Angelo probably isn't even aware of my departure, making it seem like I never really left. And you know what? I don't care if he knows or not. The fact is, Mr. D’Angelo doesn't care about me. To him, I'm just part of this stupid décor, just another trophy in his collection. I swing open the living room door, ready to climb the stairs for a long shower, but I halt in the center of the room when I see him in his expensive, elegant suit, his back turned to me. D’Angelo slowly turns and stares at me as if he could kill me with just a glance. I take a deep breath, subtly take two steps forward, this time without any rush. "Where were you, Evy?" He growls coldly. My eyes drop to the whiskey glass in his hand, then rise to his irritated eyes. "I went to visit my mother." A subtle smirk appears at the corner of his mouth, and I assure you, it's not humorous. "It'

Evy I drag myself out of bed to the bathroom, barely awake. After rejuvenating under the shower, I head downstairs for breakfast. Walking to the kitchen, thoughts of last night flood my mind, and I find myself smiling foolishly, reminiscing about Mr. D'Angelo's company. He hasn't realized it yet, but he's a remarkable man! Beyond his tough CEO facade, he's cheerful, engaging, and our conversations, becoming increasingly intimate, amuse and relax me. Watching him devour three sandwiches with such satisfaction last night made me realize pleasing him isn't so hard. However, he remains a locked secret, at least from my perspective. Nonetheless, making him laugh was my mission, and I can confidently say I succeeded. As I step into the kitchen bustling with staff multitasking, my eyes land on the young woman who entered my room a few days ago. "You," I point to her, catching her attention. "What's your name?" "It's Guadalupe, ma'am." She approaches the counter. "Are you Spanish?" "Yes."