As we crossed the threshold, a question hammered in the air:
Who was Alejandro Vega really… and what price would my family pay when they discovered the truth?
The car moved through the streets of Madrid in a thick silence. I looked at my hands, still trembling. Alejandro drove with almost surgical precision.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”
He stopped the car at a traffic light and looked at me.
“Hanna, you’ve been protecting them for years. Today it ends.”
He didn’t take me shopping. He took me to a discreet penthouse in Salamanca , far from ostentatious luxury. There, for the first time in a long time, I felt safe.
Our story wasn’t a fairy tale. We met five years ago when I was working as an administrative assistant at a consulting firm. No one knew that Alejandro was the founder and main shareholder of Vega Holdings , a conglomerate with investments in energy and technology. We married in secret because I didn’t want money to define me… or for my family to use it.
“Your mother crossed a line,” Alejandro said. “And not just with you.”
The next day, Bruno’s wedding took place without me. Or so they thought.
Meanwhile, Alejandro started moving pieces. Calls. Documents. Private investigations. He discovered that my mother had used my name for fake guarantees, that my brother had received “help” from shell companies linked to Vega Holdings… without knowing it.
