Runaway Heiress, Reluctant bride

As we entered through the gates, I looked at my father and smiled. I promised myself then that I would do whatever it took to repay him for everything he had done for me. “Papa, maybe it’s time you found a wife,” I suggested playfully.

His hair was graying, but I knew it was the color he had chosen—it used to be a rich coffee brown that made him look much younger than his forty-seven years. I assumed several women would be eager to line up for the chance to be with him. He was still quite handsome for his age.

“No, it’s just a waste of time,” he replied with a shrug.

“Are you sure? Or are you still waiting for my mother to come back?” I teased, but my humor didn’t sit well with him. He frowned, his eyes turning away from me.

“I was only kidding, papa,” I said quickly, regretting my words.

“You’re right,” he muttered after a long pause.

I stared at him, shocked by his response. “Wait—are you serious? Oh my God, I can’t believe you, papa!” I shook my head, laughing incredulously. “I never thought I’d hear that from you!”

“It’s true love,” he reasoned, his tone soft but insistent.

“True love, my foot! If that’s what you call true love, then I don’t want any part of it!” I shot back, my words sharper than I intended.

“Isabella, you can’t say that,” he disagreed, his voice tinged with concern, but I just huffed in response. He had no idea what it was like to feel suffocated by expectations, to be tethered to a life you didn’t choose.

I was about to argue more, but we had arrived at the estate, and I didn’t want to risk the staff overhearing our argument. There could be a spy among the staff, and I couldn’t afford a scandal. Our business depended on maintaining the perfect image, and I wasn’t about to let a minor disagreement destroy that.

A uniformed woman followed me as I made my way toward the elevator, leading me to my bedroom. “How are you doing, Elena?” I asked warmly, trying to break the tension.

“Just fine, Miss Isabella,” she replied, her voice as timid as usual.

I rolled my eyes, trying to ease her nerves. “Come on, Elena, it’s just us here. No need for all the formality.” They were trained to be proper, to never act out of line, but I preferred it when they treated me like family. Elena had been with us for nearly fifteen years, and she’d seen me grow up. She was more than just a servant; she was a confidante.

Once in my room, Elena helped me with my bath. While she scrubbed my back, we chatted about everything and nothing. After a few minutes of silence, I found myself asking a question that I hadn’t really intended to voice out loud. “Do you think I’m happy with my life?”

Her gasp was immediate, and I could hear her pause. “You are Sebastian Cruz’s only daughter. Isn’t that enough to be happy?”

I could hear the wisdom in her voice, but it didn’t reach my heart. “You always have a clever answer, Elena.” I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “To be honest, I don’t feel like an heiress. That title is just a name. Without my father’s last name, I’m a nobody.”

Elena sighed, as though she understood, and I appreciated that. She’d been with us since my father’s rise to wealth, and I trusted her more than anyone else in the world. If my father ever decided to find a wife, I would happily recommend Elena to him. She deserved happiness just as much as anyone else.

After she helped me get dressed, I gave her a little something from my latest trip to Chicago. I had gone to meet with Victor Ramos, the renowned architect based in the U.S. His firm had caught the attention of our architectural division, and we wanted him on board. When our representatives failed to secure his signature, I knew I had to step in.