Elena Montoya sat in the dimly lit hospital room, holding her twelve-year-old sister Sofia's frail hand. The rhythmic beeping of the machines was a constant reminder of the fragile thread by which Sofia's life hung. Elena's heart ached as she looked at Sofia's pale face, the illness sapping the vitality from her once-bright eyes.
"Elena," Sofia whispered weakly, her voice barely audible. "Are you sure we can afford the treatment?"
Elena forced a smile, hiding the uncertainty in her eyes. "Yes, Sofi. Don't worry about that. Just focus on getting better."
But as Elena left the room and walked down the sterile hospital corridor, her façade of strength crumbled. She knew the truth: their family couldn't afford the expensive treatment Sofia needed. The Montoya business empire, once a symbol of power and wealth, was now on the edge of financial ruin.
Elena's father, Eduardo Montoya, had exhausted all options, and desperation had driven him to consider the unthinkable. As she stepped into the family's office later that evening, the weight of the impending decision pressed heavily on her shoulders.
"Elena," Eduardo said, looking up from his desk, his face etched with worry. "We need to talk."
She took a deep breath and sat down across from him. "What is it, Father?"
Eduardo sighed, rubbing his temples. "I received a proposal today from the Cruz family."
Elena's heart skipped a beat at the mention of their rivals. "The Cruz family? What do they want?"
"They're willing to provide the funds for Sofia's treatment," Eduardo said, his voice heavy with reluctance. "But there's a condition."
Elena's stomach churned. "What condition?"
"You must marry Damian Cruz," Eduardo replied, his eyes meeting hers with a mixture of guilt and sorrow.
Elena felt as if the ground had been pulled out from under her. "Marry Damian? The heir to the family that's been trying to destroy us?"
Eduardo nodded. "I know it's a lot to ask, Elena. But we have no other options. We can't lose Sofia."
Anger and despair warred within her. The Cruz family had been their enemies for as long as she could remember. Marrying Damian felt like a betrayal of everything she stood for. But the thought of losing Sofia was unbearable.
"I'll do it," Elena said finally, her voice trembling. "I'll marry Damian if it means saving Sofia."
Eduardo's eyes filled with gratitude and relief. "Thank you, Elena. I know this isn't easy, but it's the only way."
The days that followed were a blur of preparations and negotiations. Elena felt like a puppet, her life being orchestrated by forces beyond her control. She prepared herself for the inevitable confrontation with Damian Cruz, the man who would become her husband out of necessity, not love.
On the day of the wedding, Elena stood before the mirror in her room, dressed in a simple but elegant white gown. She barely recognized the woman staring back at her. The strong-willed, independent Elena Montoya seemed to have vanished, replaced by someone she didn't quite know.
A knock on the door brought her back to reality. Her mother, Maria, entered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You look beautiful, Elena."
Elena forced a smile. "Thank you, Mom."
Maria took her hands, squeezing them tightly. "I know this isn't what you wanted, but you're doing the right thing. Sofia needs you."
"I know," Elena said softly, fighting back her own tears. "I just hope I can survive this."
The ceremony was a tense affair, held in the grand hall of the Cruz mansion. Elena walked down the aisle, her heart pounding, every step feeling like a march toward her own execution. Damian stood at the altar, his expression cold and unreadable.
As she reached him, Damian's eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, she saw a flicker of something—perhaps regret or resignation. The priest began the vows, and Elena repeated the words mechanically, her mind numb to the reality of what was happening.
When the ceremony ended and they were pronounced husband and wife, Damian leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. "Welcome to the Cruz family, Elena. I hope you understand what you've gotten yourself into."
Elena's spine stiffened at his words, but she held her head high, determined not to show any weakness. "I'm here for Sofia," she replied coldly. "Nothing more."
Damian's eyes darkened, and he took her hand, leading her out of the hall. The reception that followed was a blur of forced smiles and polite conversations. Elena felt like a stranger in her own skin, surrounded by people she didn't trust.
As the night wore on, Elena slipped away from the crowd, seeking solace in the garden. She needed a moment to herself, away from the prying eyes and fake pleasantries. She wandered through the neatly trimmed hedges and flowerbeds, the cool night air a welcome relief.
"Elena."
She turned at the sound of Damian's voice, finding him standing a few feet away. His expression was unreadable, but there was a tension in his stance that mirrored her own.
"What do you want, Damian?" she asked, her voice tinged with exhaustion.
He took a step closer, his gaze intense. "I know this isn't what you wanted. It wasn't my choice either."
Elena crossed her arms, trying to keep her emotions in check. "Then why did you agree to it?"
"Because our families are at war, and this was the only way to broker a truce," Damian replied, his voice low. "My father insisted, and I had no choice."
"Neither did I," Elena said bitterly. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it."
Damian sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't expect you to. But if we're going to make this work, we need to find a way to coexist."
Elena stared at him, searching for any hint of sincerity. "Is that even possible?"
"I don't know," Damian admitted. "But for the sake of our families—and for Sofia—we have to try."
The mention of Sofia softened Elena's resolve slightly. Despite her anger and resentment, she knew Damian was right. They were in this together, whether they liked it or not.
"Fine," she said finally. "But don't expect me to trust you."
"I wouldn't dream of it," Damian replied, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.