After a night she can't remember, Ana wakes up in a stranger's bed. Fleeing the shame and family pressure after rejecting an arranged marriage, her family sends her to study in the United States. What she doesn't expect is to discover that she is pregnant... with twins. Determined to raise her children alone and hide the truth, fate will bring her face to face with the father... a powerful and mysterious CEO who hasn't stopped looking for her since that night.

Main characters:

Ana Camargo:

A strong, determined young woman, but marked by family decisions. She is 23 years old and comes from a conservative and wealthy family. In the U.S., she begins to study graphic design while dealing with her pregnancy in secret.

Liam Hunter:

CEO of a technology company in New York. He is 30 years old, reserved, successful and keeps the memory of a night that marked his life. He doesn't know the name of the woman he was with, but he hasn't stopped looking for her since then.

Camargo Family:

Traditionalists, rich and more concerned with appearances than with Ana's happiness.

Ana had never been a rebel. She was always the exemplary daughter, the one who followed the rules, the one who said "yes" even when she wanted to scream "no." But that night... that night was different.

She had escaped the engagement dinner her parents organized with the son of some important business partners. A perfect man on paper, but one who didn't awaken anything in her. Tired of being the obedient doll, she let herself be dragged by her best friend to a party at a fancy hotel in the city. She was only thinking of forgetting for a few hours the weight of other people's decisions.

The lights were dim, the music vibrated in her chest, and the drinks quickly piled up. She didn't even know how she ended up at the bar, laughing with a stranger with intense eyes and a dangerous smile. He didn't ask her name, and she didn't ask his either. She just felt that, for the first time, she could breathe.

The last thing she remembered clearly was his deep voice whispering in her ear and the warmth of a hand taking hers. Then... a void. A blink. And then, the next morning.

The sun filtered through the curtains of a hotel room she didn't recognize. The sheets were soft, the bed huge... and she, alone. Her dress was on the floor, her heels by the door, and her heart was pounding with a mixture of fear and confusion. She didn't remember how she had gotten there. She didn't remember if anything had happened... although her body said yes.

She dressed quickly, leaving behind that room, that night... and the man whose name she never knew. Ana thought that this would remain as just another mistake in her life. She didn't know that that night, in silence, had marked the beginning of a destiny impossible to avoid.

She went down in the elevator with flushed cheeks, wishing not to run into anyone. Each step felt like an echo of what she had done, even though she couldn't even name it. Her mind tried to reconstruct the pieces, but it was like looking through fogged glass. She remembered fragments: laughter, the taste of wine, the warmth of a hand on her waist... and a gaze that disarmed her.

When she left the hotel, the fresh morning air hit her face. She closed her eyes for a second, wishing it was all a nightmare. But it wasn't.

Things got worse when she got home. Her mother was waiting for her in the living room, with pursed lips and a look full of disappointment. Her father, sitting in silence, looked at her as if he didn't know her.

"Where were you last night?" her mother asked in a firm voice.

"I wasn't feeling well, I went to sleep," Ana lied, without looking them in the eyes.

"Sleep? At whose house?" her father snapped, crossing his arms.

Ana froze. Apparently, they already knew.

"It doesn't matter. It was just one night. I didn't..."

"One night?!" her mother interrupted, raising her voice for the first time. "You were going to get engaged to the son of the Morales, Ana! And you... you decide to go and wallow with a stranger!"

The words were like slaps. Ana felt the tears welling up in her eyes, but she forced herself to hold them back. She wouldn't give them that power.

"I don't love him. I never loved him," she said in a trembling voice.

"Love has nothing to do with this!" her father shouted. "It was about the future of this family. Your future."

An uncomfortable silence settled in. Ana pursed her lips, with pride as her only shield.

"Then I guess there's no place for me in this family anymore," she murmured.

It was her mother who spoke this time, with a coldness that made her shudder.

"You're right. That's why you're going to the United States. We've already made arrangements for you to study there. It will be best for everyone."

Days later, Ana boarded a plane with a suitcase full of clothes and an empty heart. They had taken everything from her: her voice, her place, her right to be wrong. But there, in a country where no one knew her, at least she would have the freedom to start over.

She didn't suspect, however, that she wasn't alone. That within her, two tiny hearts were already beating. And that this bond, as deep as it was invisible, would soon force her to face her past.

A past with a name, a face... and power.

Ana's POV

I had never felt so ashamed in my life.

I could endure the probing looks, even the harsh words, but that morning, when my parents looked at me as if I were a stranger… I felt something break inside me. Something that I could never put back together.

It had all happened so fast. A party. A stranger. A room. And then, hell at home.

I didn't understand how they found out, nor why the fury was so disproportionate. Well… I did understand. My parents couldn't stand losing control, and I, with a single slip, had thrown their plans, their "investment" in me, overboard. Rejecting the engagement with Nicolas Morales was just the spark. Running off with someone unknown, without a name or surname, was pure dynamite.

They gave me no choice. The next day, without even asking my opinion, they informed me that I would be going to study in the United States. A punishment disguised as an opportunity.

"You need to get away, reflect, mature," my mother said, as if my decisions had been childish tantrums.

I didn't cry in front of them. I didn't give them that power. But I cried in my room, for hours, while packing my suitcase. I cried silently, so they wouldn't hear, so they wouldn't know how broken I felt. And then, I turned off my emotions like someone turns off a light. Not out of strength, but out of pure survival.

The flight to New York was long. The voices around me were white noise. Only the hum of my own thoughts accompanied me. I wondered if I would ever manage to forget that night. If I would ever even know what really happened. Was it just a drunken adventure or something more? Was it a mistake? Or a desperate escape? I had no answers.

I only had a name I didn't know, and a huge void in my chest.

Settling in New York was not easy. I had no one. My parents had paid for everything: tuition, accommodation, even a card with a limit to survive. But that didn't make me feel free, just more watched from a distance.

I took graphic design classes at a small but respectable university. I dedicated myself to studying with obsessive discipline. Anything to not think. To not remember.

But oblivion did not come. Because, two months after my arrival, something in me changed.

First it was the tiredness. I slept too much or couldn't sleep at all. Then, the dizziness. Afterwards, the persistent nausea that didn't disappear with anything. I thought it was stress. The change of country. The pressure of being alone.

Until, one afternoon, sitting in the university cafeteria, I smelled the coffee and ran to the bathroom to vomit.

It was there, in front of the steamed-up bathroom mirror, with my face pale and my hands trembling, that I knew.

I bought a pregnancy test as if I were a criminal. I put it in my backpack, hid it under books, and returned to the apartment feeling more alone than ever.

The test didn't take long to show the two lines. Clear. Unmistakable.

I sat on the bathroom floor with the test in my hands, breathless, speechless. Part of me hoped it was a nightmare. But it wasn't.

I was pregnant.

By a man whose name I didn't know.

I cried. A lot. Out of anger, out of fear, out of confusion. I wondered again and again how it was possible. How hadn't I taken care? How had I exposed myself like that? But I didn't remember anything clearly. I only knew that that night I had crossed a point of no return… and that now I was carrying a life inside me.

No. Two lives.

Weeks later, an ultrasound revealed that I was not expecting one, but two babies.

Twins.

I laughed at the consultation. A nervous, broken, incredulous laugh. The doctor looked at me strangely, but said nothing. Me neither. I could barely process it.

Twins. I didn't know if it was a blessing or a punishment.

I decided to remain silent. To everyone. Even my parents.

I couldn't stand any more reproaches. More disappointment. More control.

This time it was my decision. My chaos. My burden. My children.

I didn't know how I was going to do it alone. But I knew that I was not going to abandon them.

I couldn't.

That night, back home, I sat on the bed and stroked my flat belly with a tenderness I didn't know I had. I closed my eyes and whispered:

"Hello, little ones… I don't know how I'm going to do this, but I promise you that I'm going to try. That I'm not going to fail you."

I didn't know what the future would be like. I didn't know if I would ever see the man from that night again. I didn't know if he deserved to know. I didn't know if I wanted him to know.

But in the midst of all that chaos, I felt for the first time in a long time… something like peace.

I was broken. Scared. Alone.

But inside me, life was beginning to take shape.

And that changed everything.