I was suffocating.

For the past few months, I had tried to ignore my ex-boyfriend's looks of pity and contempt, pretending his words didn't affect me. "That's not my problem, Aurora. You deal with it." Those were his last words before he turned his back on me. I fought. I did every exam alone, finished college alone, prepared for motherhood alone. But now, I couldn't anymore.

Paris, with its dazzling lights and unparalleled charm, had become a cage of painful memories. I needed to go home. Even if it meant facing what I had been putting off for months.

The flight was tiring. My heavy body, swollen feet, and the constant movement of the babies prevented me from resting. When the plane landed, I felt a mixture of relief and dread. I didn't know what awaited me.

The Valmort mansion rose imposingly before me, with its classic facade and stained-glass windows reflecting the afternoon light. Almost four years away, and I still remembered every detail. The flawless marble stairs, the elegant columns, the large oak door that seemed heavier now that I knew what awaited me on the other side.

I took a deep breath and went in.

The aroma of my mother's tea wafted through the air, mingling with the house's characteristic floral scent. She was in the living room, flipping through a magazine, elegantly dressed as always, in a cream dress and her blonde hair tied in a perfect bun. When she heard my voice, her face lit up.

"Mother." My voice came out low, almost hesitant.

She looked up and smiled.

"Aurora! My girl! You're finally back!"

For a second, I had hope. But it was only a second. As soon as her gaze fell to my rounded belly, her smile crumbled. Her eyes widened in shock, and the teacup she held trembled in her hands.

"What... what is this?"

She stood up suddenly, as if my presence were a threat.

"Mother, I can explain..."

"Explain? Aurora, you're pregnant!"

Her tone rose, her indignation clear. Her face, flushed with anger, contrasted with her expression of pure panic.

The sound of firm footsteps echoed down the hallway. My father appeared at the office door, wearing an immaculate suit, his gray hair neat as always. His stern gaze shifted from my mother to me, and for a brief moment, there was silence.

Until he saw my belly.

His eyes, previously just curious, filled with fury.

"What does this mean?" His voice came out cold, cutting.

I tried to stay strong.

"I'm pregnant, Father."

"Pregnant?" He repeated, as if the word were an insult.

My mother began to mumble incomprehensible things, bringing her hands to her head, while my father approached, each step laden with disapproval.

"And where is the father of these children?" His voice sounded dangerous.

I swallowed hard.

"He didn't want to take responsibility."

My father laughed. A humorless laugh, heavy with scorn.

"So you come back to my house, after four years, pregnant and without a husband?"

"Father, I didn't plan this. But they are my children, and I need your support."

My mother gasped, as if my words were absurd.

"You've brought shame to our family, Aurora! How could you be so irresponsible? And now? You want us to raise these... these bastard children?"

My eyes filled with tears.

"Mother, please..."

My father didn't let me finish.

"Get out of my house."

A shock ran through my body.

"What?"

"You heard me. Take your things and go. There's no place for you here."

"Father, don't do this..."

"You've done enough to tarnish our name. If you made this decision, face the consequences."

My heart broke in that instant. No matter how much I pleaded, their cold stares said it all. I was alone.

I turned and left, feeling the weight of each step. The air outside was colder than I remembered, or maybe it was the ice settling inside me.

My arms wrapped around my belly in a protective gesture.

"Everything will be alright, my loves. I promise."

But I didn't know how to keep that promise.

I walked aimlessly through the city. The sky was beginning to darken, and the streetlights cast shadows on the sidewalks. My mind was a mess. Where would I go? What would I do?

It was then that everything happened.

The headlights came too fast. My body reacted late. A loud sound, the impact, and I was thrown to the ground.

The pain didn't come immediately, but the worry did. My hands instinctively clutched my belly, fear consuming me entirely.

A man got out of the car. Tall, imposing, in a dark suit and with a penetrating gaze. His black hair was perfectly styled, and his tense jaw showed concern.

"My God! Are you okay?"

I tried to answer, but a groan escaped.

"You're pregnant! Damn it! I'm going to call an ambulance."

"No... the babies..." my voice failed.

"Calm down, I'll take care of it."

He took out his phone, his jaw tight, and made a quick call. Before I could process it, he knelt beside me.

"My name is Dante. Dante Morelli. I'm taking you to the hospital."

Then, everything went dark.

Soft light invaded the white, impersonal room. I blinked a few times, trying to adjust my vision and understand where I was. The strong smell of antiseptic and the beeping of monitors alerted me even before I noticed the soft bed beneath my body.

My heart raced.

My hands flew to my belly, an immediate protective instinct, but the empty space sent me into a panic.

"My babies! Where are my babies?!" My voice came out shaky, desperate.

A nurse appeared beside me, a middle-aged woman with a kind smile, and held my hand.

"Calm down, dear. Your babies are fine. They were born prematurely, but they're strong."

My breathing became irregular. I wanted to see them. I needed to feel they were alive.

But then, the nurse's next words froze me.

"The father is with them now."

I frowned.

"What?"

My heart stopped for a moment. What father? My ex wanted nothing to do with the children, and my own father kicked me out of the house.

The door opened, and a tall man entered. His black hair was perfectly styled, his dark brown eyes carried intensity, and his expression was serious. He wore an expensive suit, but his tie was slightly loosened, as if he had spent the night there.

It was him.

The man who ran me over.

He analyzed me for a moment before speaking:

"Are you okay?"

My mind was in tatters, and my first reaction was to attack him.

"Am I okay? I had my babies prematurely! They would have been born at the right time if you hadn't run me over!"

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

"Oh, I apologize for not foreseeing you'd appear in front of my car out of nowhere."

I clenched my teeth, ready to respond, but my exhaustion overcame me. I sighed and looked at him, finally questioning:

"Why did that nurse say the children's father is with them?"

He seemed uncomfortable, running a hand through his hair.

"It was a misunderstanding. When I arrived with you, the nurses assumed I was the father and took me to see them."

My eyebrows rose.

"And you didn't correct them?"

He shrugged.

"You were unconscious. They needed someone to sign some documents."

I took a deep breath, absorbing the information.

"I want to see them."

He nodded.

"I've already asked them to prepare everything so you can go to the Neonatal ICU. But first... Answer me something."

I looked up at him, waiting.

"Do you have family?"

My chest tightened. I thought of the coldness in my father's eyes and the disgusted look on my mother's face.

"I thought I did. But they kicked me out of the house."

Silence hung between us.

Then he asked:

"And the children's father?"

My body tensed, and my voice came out almost as a whisper.

"He abandoned me."

Dante Morelli observed me for a long time, his eyes evaluating every detail of my expression.

"So you have nowhere to go."

I swallowed hard, feeling a tear well up in the corner of my eye.

"Unfortunately, no."

He sighed, running his hands through his hair before moving closer.

"If I made you a proposal, would you accept it?"

I frowned.

"What kind of proposal?"

He pulled up a chair and sat beside me, his gaze serious and determined.

"I need a wife."

My mouth fell slightly open, not understanding if this was a joke or a delusion from the medication.

"What?"

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"My grandfather gave me an ultimatum. I have three months to get married or I lose the company I've worked for my entire life."

I was still trying to process it.

"And what does that have to do with me?"

He sighed.

"You need a place to stay. I need a wife of convenience. We can help each other."

I shook my head, trying to understand the madness of the situation.

"This is insane. You want me to marry you just to keep your company?"

"Yes. In return, you and your children will have financial security and a place to live."

My eyes narrowed.

"And what happens afterwards?"

He tilted his head, as if he had it all planned out.

"After a while, we can divorce amicably. No complications."

I laughed, humorlessly.

"You talk as if it's the most normal thing in the world."

He didn't back down.

"Because for me, it is. Marriages in my world are often just contracts. And you, Aurora, are in a situation without many options."

My fingers tightened on the sheet.

"So you want me to sell my freedom in exchange for stability?"

He gave a slight smile, without looking away.

"I want you to make a deal that's advantageous for both of us. You'll have a home to raise your children, and I'll keep my position. Nobody loses."

The weight of his words fell upon me.

I no longer had a home. I no longer had anyone. My children's future depended solely on me now.

I sighed, feeling the weight of the decision I had to make.

"I need to think."

Dante stood up, adjusting his suit.

"Of course. But don't take too long. My deadline is running out."

He gave me one last look before leaving the room.

My eyes turned to the window.

Paris was a dream that had crumbled. My family rejected me.

And now, a stranger was offering me a life I never imagined.

What would I do?

The silence in the room was deafening. My mind reeled, replaying every word Dante Morelli had said.

A marriage of convenience.

A contract.

Security for me and my children.

My gaze drifted to my still-soft belly, feeling the absence of my babies' weight. My chest tightened. I wanted to see them.

The door opened softly, and the same nurse from before entered with a gentle smile.

"Dear, the doctors have authorized your visit to the NICU. Would you like to see your babies now?"

My throat tightened with emotion. I nodded quickly, holding back the tears that threatened to fall.

"Yes, please."

She brought a wheelchair, and with her help, I slowly got up. My legs were still weak, but the need to see my children gave me strength.

We traversed the white hospital corridors. The sound of footsteps, murmurs, and monitors filled the air, but everything seemed distant. My world narrowed to what I was about to see.

We reached the NICU, a brightly lit space with incubators lined up in rows. My eyes scanned the room until the nurse pointed to two small incubators side by side.

"Here are your babies."

My lips trembled as I saw them for the first time.

Two tiny bundles, connected to wires and monitors, with pink skin and delicate features. My heart clenched in my chest.

"May I touch them?" my voice came out as a whisper.

The nurse smiled.

"Of course. But carefully, they are still very fragile."

My fingers trembled as I touched my older son's tiny hand. He wiggled his minuscule fingers, as if recognizing my touch. A silent tear streamed down my face.

"Hi, my loves…" my voice broke, thick with emotion. "Mommy's here."

My daughter, the smaller one, stirred slightly, as if responding.

"They are strong. They're reacting very well, considering they were born prematurely." The nurse reassured me.

I wanted to hug them, hold them, never let them go. But in that moment, I realized something:

I had nothing to offer them.

No home. No guarantee of safety.

My only alternative was a marriage I didn't want.

Or did I?

"What names will you give them?" the nurse asked gently.

I took a deep breath, still caressing the little ones.

"Bella and Bento."

"They're beautiful."

I nodded, without taking my eyes off them. I needed to protect them.

And perhaps that meant accepting Dante's proposal.

A few hours later, back in my room, my mind wouldn't stop working.

What did I know about Dante Morelli?

Well, the only thing I knew about him was what I read in magazines. Even though my parents had always belonged to a high social class, nothing compared to the empire the Morelli family had built.

Dante Morelli is known as the king of financial industries. I remembered reports saying that everything he touched turned to gold, as if he were a modern Midas. But his personal life? That was a mystery. The only thing I knew, and that everyone commented on, was his obsession with control and work. He was 35, but he seemed older, as if the weight of his responsibilities had aged his soul.

And me?

I was a recent graduate, kicked out of my home, penniless, with two lives depending on me.

It was either this or back to the streets with two newborns.

A weary sigh escaped my lips as the room door opened.

Dante entered, impeccable as always, wearing a dark suit. His eyes analyzed my expression before he approached.

"Have you made a decision?"

I bit my lower lip.

"I want some conditions."

He raised an eyebrow, looking intrigued.

"Name them."

I swallowed hard.

"I want my children to be registered under my name only."

Dante frowned.

"That could raise suspicions."

I crossed my arms, firm.

"I don't care. They are my children, and no one will take them from me."

He studied me for a few seconds before sighing.

"I can put in the contract that no one would take your children. Anything else?"

I nodded.

"I want guarantees that if something goes wrong, I'll have financial compensation to take care of them alone."

Dante smirked.

"I admire your determination. But don't worry. I keep my agreements."

I hesitated for a second, but finally nodded.

"Then, I accept."

Dante's smile widened slightly.

"Excellent. Let's make this official as soon as possible."

My heart pounded. I was about to marry a man I barely knew.

But if it meant protecting Bella and Bento… then it was a price I was willing to pay.