Chapter 2 Will Life Change

Sofia's voice came out fragile but honest. "Why are you choosing me? Why would you ask a complete stranger to marry you?"

A faint curve touched Naven's lips, though the expression held more mystery than warmth.

"Why wouldn't I? I'm not searching for devotion or fairytale vows. I don't want love. What I need is something practical. Quiet. Controlled. And you, Sofia... you're asking me for something. That comes with a cost."

She swallowed hard, her mouth going dry.

"And if I refuse?"

Naven leaned closer, stopping just short of truly crowding her, yet his presence alone felt heavy, unavoidable.

"Then Catalina marries Meyer. And trust me... Meyer is not the kind of man you deny twice."

The threat was not spoken with violence, but it still sent a cold rush through her, sharp enough to leave her frozen in place.

"Could I have a little time to think?" she said softly, her voice barely steady.

Naven gave a small nod.

"You had the rest of the afternoon. By eight tonight, I wanted your answer. If you did not show up, then I would assume you chose no, and your friend would face whatever came next. It made no difference to me. I had nothing to lose."

Sofia swallowed hard, then nodded slowly.

"Was I allowed to go?"

"Of course," he said, already turning away. "No one was keeping you there. Especially not me."

The door had stood open, like it always had.

She forced herself to move, step by step, toward the exit. Just before she crossed out, she stopped and looked back.

Naven was not watching her anymore. His back was turned again, as if the conversation had never mattered, as if none of it had deserved a second thought.

But Sofia understood. Everything had changed. If not already, then it would very soon.

***

The walk to the University was usually routine, but that day it carried a weight she could not shake. Still, she refused to let her thoughts swallow her whole. An exam had been waiting, and she had had no choice but to push forward.

When it ended, she had expected relief to follow, but nothing came. The paper she had turned in, the silent classroom, the instructors collecting their things... it all felt distant, like she was standing inside someone else's life. A dull headache lingered behind her eyes, brought on by stress or sleeplessness, yet she ignored it as she gathered her belongings and prepared to leave.

Madrid still glowed beneath the last warmth of sunset, the sky painted in the same golden haze she had stared at from the hotel suite only hours before. Instead of returning inside, she drifted through the streets with no real direction, letting her phone buzz unanswered as her mother and siblings tried to reach her. Her steps eventually carried her into a small park hidden between old buildings, a quiet pocket of peace surrounded by the city's restless noise.

She lowered herself onto a worn wooden bench beneath a broad tree, its shadow wrapping around her like a shelter. Her eyes fluttered shut. She drew in a slow breath, then another.

Her mind refused to stay silent.

What was she about to do?

Her last name pressed against her chest like something heavy and inescapable. Morgan was not just a word. It was a legacy she could never step away from.

She was a Morgan.

She was not only someone's daughter. Not only someone's sister.

She was the daughter of Alessandro Morgan, the man who had shaped an empire with iron discipline and unwavering principles. She was the sister of Aaron, the born commander who never hesitated and never lost control. She was the sister of Alicia Michelle, dazzling and sharp, with eyes that always seemed to see straight through lies.

And then there was her. Sofia.

The gentle one, the dependable one. The girl everyone trusted to soften the hard edges. The one who could never turn away when someone was hurting. The one who always stood between the people she loved and the world that threatened them.

How much of herself was she truly willing to give away?

And if it came down to it... just how far would she go for someone else?

Catalina's face would not leave her mind. She was not just a friend. She was family in every way that mattered. Sofia could still hear her voice, fragile and shaking, as she begged through tears that she did not want to be forced into marriage. That fear had been real. It had been raw.

And then, like a dark cloud moving over the sun, Naven's expression surfaced in her thoughts.

Unreadable. Ice-calm. Sharp enough to cut.

He had not offered her days or weeks. He had given her a single afternoon. A decision dressed up as a choice.

But underneath it... It was danger.

Catalina had no one standing behind her. Only cruel relatives who saw her weakness as something to exploit, not protect. They would never save her. They would only take more.

And in that painful stillness, Sofia understood something with absolute clarity.

If Catalina was going to be saved, it would not be by anyone else. It would have to be her.

She pushed herself up slowly, her body heavy with the weight of what came next. The clock was already moving. She had only hours left.

*

By the time Sofia returned to the hotel, her decision had already settled deep inside her.

The receptionist did not stop her with questions or small talk. The second he noticed her, his expression tightened, and he quickly made a short call to someone behind the scenes. Sofia assumed she would be taken upstairs, maybe to Naven's suite or some cold office tucked away in the hotel.

But that was not what happened.

A broad guard stepped toward her instead, heavy in a black suit, an earpiece pressed into place like he was always listening for orders.

"Miss Morgan," he said evenly. "Mr. Fort is waiting somewhere else. You will come with me."

She did not ask for an explanation. She only gave a quiet nod, then followed.

A black vehicle waited outside, its windows dark enough to hide everything inside. The moment she climbed in, the air smelled of leather and something freshly polished, expensive and unfamiliar. As the car began to move, Sofia forced herself to breathe steadily. Her thoughts wanted to spiral, but she pushed them down. Whatever was coming, she could not run from it now.

The drive carried them beyond the heart of Madrid, slipping toward the quieter edges of the city. Minutes passed in tense silence until the car finally slowed and stopped.

In front of her stood a place that looked nothing like an ordinary building. Tall gates. Armed security. Cameras mounted high, watching every angle.

When Sofia stepped out, she froze at the sounds drifting through the air. The distant roar of a crowd.

"Wait..." she muttered softly. "Is this a racetrack?"

The guard offered no explanation. He only motioned for her to follow, leading her through a quieter side entrance away from the main gates. Sofia kept close behind him as they moved into a corridor lined with deep red carpet. The walls were covered in framed photographs of champion horses, alongside gleaming trophies that celebrated victories from years past.

At last, they stopped before a single door, where two more men stood watch like statues. One of them gave a short nod, then pulled it open without a word.

For the first time since leaving the hotel, the guard spoke again.

"You can go in now, Miss Morgan. Mr. Fort is waiting upstairs on the terrace."

Sofia stepped inside.

Luxury surrounded her immediately. Vast windows stretched across the room, offering a clear view of the racetrack below. Glass tables caught the light. Plush armchairs were arranged in perfect order. Large screens flashed numbers, betting odds, and racing statistics.

Around her, men and women in tailored suits held champagne as though it were water. Their laughter sounded practiced, too polished to be real.

It felt like walking into a world built on cold money and false smiles.

"Where is he?" she murmured, mostly to herself.

A hostess nearby lifted her hand and pointed toward the back, where a staircase shimmered with gold under the lights.

Then she began to climb.

The terrace felt like an entirely different world compared to the room below. It was quieter, more exclusive, cut off from the noise as though only certain people were allowed to exist up there. From that height, the racetrack stretched out perfectly in front of her. Horses thundered forward in a straight rush, dirt flying beneath their hooves while applause rose like waves from the crowd.

That was when she noticed him.

Naven stood near the glass railing, his full attention fixed on the race as if nothing else around him mattered. He looked effortless in a dark gray suit that fit him like armor, the collar of his black shirt left slightly open. Everything about his stance carried certainty.

He was the kind of man who moved through life as though doubt had never once touched him.

Someone stood close beside him. A woman, striking in the kind of way meant to draw eyes. Blonde hair, a slim figure, a red dress clinging tightly enough to feel deliberate. She leaned toward him, murmuring something meant only for him, her lips almost brushing his ear.

Naven let out a low laugh and rested a hand briefly on her arm, the gesture smooth and practiced. He did not truly look at her. He did not seem interested. But he also did not stop her.

Sofia slowed, keeping her distance. A sharp unease twisted inside her chest, something between disgust and disbelief.

Was this really the man she was expected to tie her life to?