We married quietly at her villa, surrounded only by a few close associates. That night, nervous and overwhelmed, I sat beside her as she handed me documents—property deeds and car keys.
I refused them, confused.
She smiled gently and told me the truth: she hadn’t married only out of loneliness. She needed someone she could trust.
There was already an heir.
Decades earlier, she had secretly given birth while trapped in a dangerous marriage. To protect her child, she gave him up. That son later died, leaving behind a daughter—Sofía.
Verónica needed a legal guardian. Someone young, discreet, and strong enough to protect her granddaughter and the legacy she had built.
That someone was me.
At first, I felt used. She admitted that, in the beginning, she had planned everything carefully. But she hadn’t planned on loving me.
