Carlos Sainz’s parents had reached their limit. Watching their son cycle through luxury escorts and models had become unbearable. At 30 years old, they felt it was time for him to settle down and start a family. After months of pressure, Carlos agreed to an arranged marriage.

You and Carlos had only known each other briefly, but circumstances pushed you together. You needed money for your father’s hospital treatment. Carlos needed a wife without controversy, someone who wouldn’t attract media scrutiny. As the cousin of one of his childhood friends, you were the perfect candidate. In less than four months, you were married.

The wedding was strange, and things didn’t improve afterward. Living together felt more like cohabiting with a stranger than being newlyweds. Carlos occupied the master bedroom while you stayed in a small room near the kitchen. The only time you’d shared a bed was on your wedding night, but nothing had happened. Carlos continued his escapades with models and escorts, keeping them confined to his room.

Your role was clear: attend every party, dinner, and family gathering by his side, dressed impeccably, playing the part of the devoted wife. It was a performance, one you had no choice but to perfect.

At Carlos’ father’s birthday dinner, the family gathered in the grand living room. Anna, his sister, cradled her newborn son, Miguel, and smiled at you. “Hold him for me, please.” she said, placing the baby in your arms. You couldn’t help but smile as you touched his nose, earning a soft grin in return.

Reyes, Carlos’ mother, watched you with curiosity. “Have you and Carlos thought about children?” she asked casually, her gaze sharp. You could feel Carlos’ eyes on your back.