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Valentina accepts billionaire Raffaele Ricchezza’s marriage proposal to secure his inheritance, hiding her intent to ruin his empire, which she blames for her father’s death. Their cold arrangement sparks tension and unexpected attraction as they navigate power plays and hidden agendas. When Valentina uncovers the red flower—a Sumerian relic with stone-melting powers tied to Gilgamesh’s bloodline—she’s thrust into a global chase against enemies seeking to weaponize it. As ancient secrets unravel, love and trust become her greatest challenges. The story opens with Raffaele’s calculated offer, which Valentina accepts to infiltrate his world. Moving into his estate, she sabotages subtly while investigating the red flower and orichalcum, a mythical metal linked to Atlantis. Raffaele, intrigued by her strength, begins to thaw, but their clashes intensify as Valentina uncovers his interest in orichalcum’s commercial potential. Danger escalates when Tariq, a cunning double agent, raids Gilgamesh’s tomb, stealing artifacts and aligning with U.S. military forces eager to exploit the flower’s power. Valentina’s friend Maria faces threats from her abusive ex, Tullio, complicating her mission. From Baghdad to Machu Picchu, Valentina and Raffaele pursue clues across the globe. DNA tests reveal Valentina’s descent from Gilgamesh, granting her immunity to the flower’s curse. As Tariq and Camilla, Valentina’s treacherous stepmother, close in, betrayals deepen. A passionate night shifts their dynamic,but trust falters when Raffaele learns of Valentina’s initial deception. In a climactic underwater battle at Atlantis’s ruins, Valentina chooses to protect the orichalcum technology. Justice prevails as Camilla and Tariq are arrested, and Valentina’s pregnancy heralds hope. She restores Baghdad’s museum, honoring her father. With Raffaele, their twins embody a legacy of love and a green future.

On the day that was supposed to be my wedding—the bride wasn’t me. The ceremony I’d waited for five years for turned into a joke when Valentina, my sister, walked down the marble aisle in a white wedding dress. Her arm was linked with Luca’s — the man who was supposed to be waiting for me at the altar. “I’m sorry, Bianca,” she said softly. “But you are no longer the bride today.” Then she touched her stomach, eyes gleaming with triumph. “I’m pregnant with Don Romano’s child.” Her words detonated inside my skull, and the whole world went silent. As if afraid I wouldn’t believe her, she lifted something glossy up towards the light. A black-and-white ultrasound image. It read clearly: Gestational age — 12 weeks. My eyes burned, tears stinging as I turned to Luca, desperately searching for anything—a denial, an explanation, regret. Instead, he only sighed, weary and resigned. “Bianca, I’m sorry.” he said helplessly. “Valentina doesn’t have much time left. This wedding… it was her last wish.” “I’ll make it up to you,” he added. “We can have another wedding later.” My father, Moretti, stood behind him, wearing the same stern expression he’d worn my entire life. I have never seen him smile at me, not even once. “Bianca,” he said sharply, “Your sister is dying. Let her have this.” My brother nodded without saying a single word, as if that was enough to be a solid answer. All my life, they had chosen her—her tears, her whims, her needs—over mine. Today was no different. Something inside me quietly cracked. Fine. If no one in this family cares about me, I’ll leave.