Doña Marta clutched the letter.
—It’s not for you.
The silence fell like a blow.
“So who’s it for then?” Zara asked, frowning.
Doña Marta swallowed.
And for the first time… he had trouble pronouncing a name.
—For… Ana.
The cup that Ana was holding in the kitchen did not fall.
But he almost did.
“For me?” she repeated in a low voice.
Collins and Abigail exchanged glances.
“That’s what they said,” Abigail whispered, unable to hide her excitement. “Don Alejandro himself!”
Ana did not react as they expected.
She didn’t smile.
He didn’t ask anything else.
She just stood still.
As if her body still didn’t know how to respond to something… other than rejection.
Doña Marta appeared at the kitchen door minutes later.
Her posture was perfect.
His voice, too.
But her eyes… no.
“Get ready,” he ordered. “We’re going to the ranch tonight.”
Ana looked up.
—Shall we go?
—You will go —Doña Marta corrected quickly—. I… will accompany you.
Zara let out a dry laugh from the hallway.
—This is ridiculous.
Rebecca lowered her gaze.
Ana slowly wiped her hands on her apron.
—I don’t have a dress.
—You’ll make do with what you have —replied Doña Marta—. And you’ll cover your head well.
There it was.
The final attempt.
The final check.
Ana nodded.
But inside… something no longer obeyed the same.
That night, the Cortés estate shone as if it were another world.
Warm lights.
Soft music.
Elegant people.
And among them all… Ana.
Wearing a simple, perfectly clean dress.
Bareheaded.
Yeah.
Discovered.
Because at the last moment… she decided to take off her headscarf.
Not out of pride.
Not out of defiance.
But because she was tired of hiding something that wasn’t her fault.
The glances arrived.
One after the other.
Surprise. Judgment. Murmurs.
Zara smiled cruelly as she saw her enter like that.
Doña Marta pressed her lips together.
But then…
Everything stopped.
Literally.
The music lowered.
The talks died.
Because he had gone in.
Don Alejandro Cortés.
Tall. Serene. Impressive.
And he walked straight towards her.
Not towards Zara.
Not towards Rebecca.
Towards Ana.
Each step he took echoed in the room as if it marked the destiny of everyone present.
He stopped in front of her.
He looked at her.
Not to his head.
No to her dress.
Her.
“You’ve arrived,” he said in a calm voice.
Ana held his gaze.
—They invited me.
A slight smile appeared on his lips.
—Yes. To you.
The silence around us grew heavy.
Almost unbearable.
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