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The world was indeed cruel to real talents, but Elena Silva had learned to live quietly under its weight.

From the earliest days of her childhood, she had been taught one rule above all others: never let your emotions control you. It was her family's creed, repeated so often that it lived inside her bones.

Her words were few, her expressions fewer. She spoke when necessary, smiled when required, and walked always with her chin high and her silence polished into perfection. The Silva bloodline was not one that produced complainers.

From birth, Elena had been surrounded by attendants who existed only to serve her. Dresses would arrive in her wardrobe before she asked. Food appeared on silver trays without her lifting a hand. A single look was enough to summon someone at her side.

To many, her life would have been the embodiment of luxury. But for Elena, it was a cage. Every golden bar of privilege closed tighter around her spirit.

And though she felt that suffocation every day, she never voiced it.

Acceptance was her rebellion.

She belonged to the world of elites, to a family whose name opened doors and commanded respect. To fight against it would be useless. Escape was impossible.

So, Elena Silva wore her fate like an unchanging mask.

⸻

That afternoon, the sun spilled across the front steps of her private high school, gilding the Rolls Royce parked at the entrance. And beside that polished beast of a car leaned a man in all black, his posture taut with impatience.

Josh.

His hands were shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket, his head bent as his foot tapped restlessly against the pavement. He looked like he could not stand waiting another minute.

Elena's sharp eyes found him instantly as she descended the steps. She did not slow her stride, nor soften her gaze. Her head stayed high, her movements precise, her silence unbroken.

When she reached him, her voice—smooth and cool—cut the air.

"Let's go."

Josh's head snapped up, his dark eyes widening for a heartbeat before he nodded once. Without hesitation, he slipped her schoolbag from her hand and swung it onto his own shoulder. Then, with quiet efficiency, he opened the rear door for her.

Elena slid into the back seat of the Royce without another word.

Josh closed the door gently, then circled around to the driver's side. His lips pressed together as though holding back words. He buckled his seatbelt with a sharp click, stole a brief glance at her face in the mirror, and started the engine.

The powerful car rumbled to life, pulling them away from the school gates.

Inside, silence reigned. Elena sat upright, her expression blank as her eyes watched the world blur past the window. The weight of her stillness pressed heavily in the confined space.

Josh could read her silence better than anyone else. He had been by her side too long, through too many of these quiet storms. He knew she would not tell him what had happened at school today. She never did.

And yet, he also knew.

He always knew.

But he was only her bodyguard, bound by rules and limitations. He had no right to pry. Still, for the sake of the bond that had grown silently between them, he could not hold back entirely.

"You did great," he said at last, breaking the silence with a gentleness that only he reserved for her.

Elena's eyes did not move from the window. Her voice was calm, almost tired.

"That is something you always say, Josh."

It was true. After every sacrifice, every forced performance for her family's honor, he would always find those words for her.

Josh smiled faintly, his grip steady on the wheel. "Well, I can't help it. You are always so cool."

A flicker of amusement touched her lips. She let out the smallest breath of laughter, then turned her eyes to him in the mirror.

"Am I?"

Her tone was light, teasing in the only way Elena Silva could be.

Josh's hooded eyes softened as he nodded, his smile widening just enough to be called charming.

For the first time that day, the heaviness inside her chest lightened.

"Want me to take you somewhere to clear your head?" he asked, his voice lower now, more careful. He had no need to explain. He always sensed when her silence was heavier than usual.

Her gaze returned to the window, but her lips curved with restrained sass.

"You will only have thirty minutes of mine, Josh."

His laugh filled the car, warm and alive, slicing through the tension.

"That will be enough, Miss."

⸻

Meanwhile, across the city, the atmosphere was far darker.

"The fuck do you mean by marriage? Are you serious, Dante?"

Andre Marquez's voice thundered across the private lounge, sharp with disbelief. His tall frame was rigid, his jaw set like stone as he faced his brother.

Across from him, Dante Marquez lounged with irritating calmness, a crystal glass of whiskey twirling in his hand. His blond hair caught the golden light of the chandelier, his expression one of long-suffering patience.

"It's not me making announcements, Andre. Don't bark at me like I wrote the damn decree myself." He took a slow sip of his drink, his voice dripping frustration. "Grandfather made the decision. I'm simply the one who had to deliver it."

Andre's fists clenched at his sides. "You expect me to just accept this? To stand aside while Gabriel is thrown into a marriage he never asked for?"

At the far end of the room, another man sat silently, his presence commanding even without words.

Gabriel Marquez.

The infamous throne holder of the Marquez empire, he carried himself with effortless authority. His black suit was cut perfectly to his frame, his dark hair falling slightly across his forehead. Unlike his brothers, his expression betrayed nothing. He swirled the liquor in his glass, as though the matter of his own marriage were no more pressing than the weather.

Dante sighed, watching his older brother's face crease with anger. Then his gaze slid back to Gabriel.

"The one who is supposed to marry isn't even protesting," Dante said dryly, lifting his glass in a mocking toast. "So why should we?"

Andre snapped his head toward Gabriel, frustration sparking.

"Silent again? Is this your answer?" He pointed at him, his voice rising. "He says nothing because he hasn't processed it yet! How can you marry a woman you've never even seen? A childish betrothal suddenly pulled from the shadows—this is madness!"

Dante rolled his eyes, leaning back lazily. "Don't act as though this is the first insane tradition our family has forced on us. If Gabriel isn't screaming, maybe he doesn't care."

Andre's teeth ground together. "Or maybe he's suffocating under the weight of this, and too damn proud to show it."

For the first time, Gabriel's eyes lifted from his glass. Dark, steady, unbothered.

"Are you finished?" His voice was smooth, low, dangerous in its calmness.

The silence that followed was heavier than all the shouting.

—

The car hummed softly beneath them as the city rolled past. Elena rested her cheek lightly against the cool glass, watching buildings blur into streaks of gray and gold.

Josh drove with practiced ease, weaving them away from the heavy traffic of the central districts. He knew without asking where she would want to go—because there were few places she could go at all.

Within fifteen minutes, the sprawling estates and crowded boulevards gave way to quieter streets lined with trees. At the end of a narrow road sat a hidden overlook, a place they had discovered years ago. From here, the whole city stretched beneath them: a patchwork of rooftops, distant towers, and restless roads.

Josh parked the Royce, cutting the engine. For a moment, neither moved. Then he turned to face her, his expression softer than she had ever allowed herself to wear.

"You look tired," he said simply.

Her lips twitched upward, though her eyes stayed on the skyline. "I always look tired to you."

"Because you never stop carrying everything," Josh countered. His tone wasn't accusing, only gentle, a reminder that he saw her weight even when she tried to hide it.

Elena inhaled deeply, letting the silence settle around them. The world below looked endless, yet it all belonged to cages like hers.

"Josh," she said quietly, "have you ever thought of what freedom really means?"

He blinked, taken aback by the rare openness in her voice. "All the time."

"And?"

"It means making choices for yourself," he replied. "Even if they're small ones. Even if you have to fight for them."

Her eyes slid to him then, sharp but softened by something like longing. "I don't have that luxury."

"You think you don't." He leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping. "But you make choices every day. Choosing not to break, not to show them what they've done to you—that's freedom, too. It's your way."

Elena studied him, her unreadable mask cracking for the briefest moment. His words seeped into places she never let anyone touch.

"Thirty minutes," she reminded him, though her tone had lost its earlier edge.

Josh chuckled. "Then let me waste them all trying to make you smile."

And to his quiet triumph, she did.

⸻

Far from the overlook, the air in the Marquez estate remained tense enough to choke.

Andre paced like a caged predator, his anger rolling off him in waves. Dante reclined lazily, though his narrowed eyes betrayed irritation. And Gabriel, as always, seemed untouched by the storm around him.

"I don't understand how you can sit there as if this doesn't matter," Andre snapped, running a hand through his hair. "Marriage isn't a business contract you can sign without thought. It's your life."

Gabriel set his glass down with deliberate calmness, the faint clink echoing.

"You mistake silence for surrender," he said at last, his voice carrying the weight of finality.

Andre froze, his chest heaving. Dante raised a brow, intrigued.

Gabriel leaned back, his gaze cool and steady. "I have known of Grandfather's schemes longer than either of you. The betrothal was no surprise to me."

Dante straightened. "So you're telling us you've been aware of this farce all along and said nothing?"

"There was nothing to say." Gabriel's tone was sharp, dismissing the accusation. "A Marquez does not run from duty. If the old man believes this marriage strengthens the family, then I will weigh it as such."

Andre slammed his fist onto the table. "You're not a pawn, Gabriel! You just inherited the throne of the Marquez empire, and now they want to chain you to some girl you've never even met? This isn't strength—it's a leash."

Gabriel's jaw flexed, but his voice remained calm. "And you think I don't see that? You think I don't know what they're doing?"

His eyes darkened, piercing through both his brothers.

"The question is not whether I want this marriage," he continued, "but how I can turn it into a weapon instead of a shackle."

Silence stretched, heavy with meaning.

Dante exhaled slowly, studying him. "Always calculating. Always five steps ahead."

Andre, however, still looked unconvinced. "And what if the woman on the other end of this leash has her own mind? What if she isn't a pawn you can simply move across your board?"

Gabriel's lips curved faintly, though it was not quite a smile. "Then she and I will see which of us holds the stronger hand."

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