Chapter 2 - The Carranza Citadel
The car passed through massive, wrought-iron gates that opened silently into a sprawling estate tucked deep within the hills of the northern valley. This wasn't the gaudy, modern mansion of the Vargas family; this was an old-money fortress, built of dark stone and ivy, surrounded by ancient oak trees that whipped violently in the dying storm.
Lev brought the sedan to a halt under a grand stone portico. Instantly, an older butler holding a large umbrella opened the door, bowing respectfully.
"Welcome home, Mr. Carranza," the butler said.
"Thomas, prepare the guest suite in the east wing," Matthew commanded as he stepped out of the vehicle, not waiting for an umbrella. He turned and reached back into the car, extending a hand to Elena.
Elena hesitated, staring at his palm. It was wide, lined, and steady—completely unlike the soft, sweaty hand of Mr. Ambrose or the sharp, violent hands of her stepmother. Realizing she had nowhere else to go, she placed her small, trembling hand in his. Instead of pulling her, Matthew effortlessly lifted her into his arms, keeping her wrapped in his heavy coat as he carried her across the threshold of the house.
The interior of the Carranza estate was warm, smelling of cedarwood, expensive old books, and fresh linen. The floors were made of dark, polished walnut, reflecting the amber glow of a massive hearth burning in the main hall.
Matthew set her down gently on a plush velvet settee near the fireplace. "Thomas, bring a medical kit, hot tea, and have Mrs. Gable find clothes that will fit her. Call Dr. Evans to check her feet."
"Right away, sir."
Elena sat curled tightly, the warmth of the fire hitting her face and making the bruise on her cheek throb with a dull ache. She watched Matthew as he unbuttoned his damp suit jacket, handing it to a waiting maid, leaving him in a crisp, white dress shirt that emphasized his powerful frame. He was younger than she expected for someone with such a terrifying reputation—perhaps early thirties—with sharp, aristocratic features and dark hair swept back from his forehead.
"You don't have to call a doctor," Elena said softly, her voice barely audible over the crackle of the logs. "I'm fine. I just... I just need to leave before morning. If Isabel finds out I'm here—"
"Isabel will not set foot on this property," Matthew interrupted, taking a seat in an armchair opposite her. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his piercing gaze locking onto her. "And you are far from fine. Your stepmother struck you. She attempted to human-traffic you to a man who is currently under federal investigation for corporate fraud. If you walk out those gates, you will either end up back in that bedroom or dead in a ditch."
Elena looked down at her hands, her lower lip trembling. The reality of her situation was finally crashing down. For two years, since her biological father passed away under mysterious circumstances, Isabel had systematically stripped Elena of her inheritance, her freedom, and her dignity. She had been turned into a prisoner in her own home, a ghost moving through the hallways, until tonight, when Isabel decided to sell the ghost to the highest bidder.
"Why are you helping me?" Elena asked, looking up, her eyes wide and searching. "You said it yourself. I'm a Vargas. My family owes you millions. Why aren't you using me to get your money back?"
A slow, dangerous smile crept onto Matthew’s face—a smile that held no warmth, only the cold satisfaction of a grandmaster placing a final chess piece.
"Because, Elena," Matthew whispered, leaning closer, "Isabel thinks she owns Vargas Industries. But she forgot to read the fine print of her late husband's original corporate charter. The shares only belong to her as long as you remain unmarried or under her guardianship. The moment you turn twenty-five—which, if my records are correct, is exactly three days from now—the controlling interest reverts entirely to you."
May you like
Elena’s breath caught. "I... I didn't know that. She told me my father left everything to her."
"She lied," Matthew said flatly. "And tomorrow, we are going to make her pay for that lie."
