“Will you dance with me?” he asked.
A murmur rippled through the room.
Zara clenched her fists.
Doña Marta felt the world slipping through her fingers.
Ana hesitated.
Just one second.
That second where her entire previous life… tried to pull her back.
But then he remembered the garden.
The knife.
The cold ground.
And all that had survived.
—Yes —he replied.
They danced.
And while they were doing that… something changed.
Not in the living room.
Not in people.
In it.
Because for the first time… she wasn’t being tolerated.
She was being elected.
Days later, Don Alejandro arrived at the ranch.
Not as a guest.
As a determined man.
He sat down opposite Doña Marta.
And he spoke bluntly:
—I want to marry Ana.
The silence was absolute.
Zara stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Rebecca closed her eyes.
Doña Marta smiled.
But it was no longer a smile of power.
It was… a mask.
—Of course —he said—. It will be an honor.
But Alejandro did not look away.
—I also reviewed her late husband’s will.
The air changed.
—Ana was entitled to a share of this property.
Doña Marta did not answer.
—And to decide their life.
Silence.
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