yielding. The soft hum of conversation in the café faded i

Duarte. The name meant nothing to him, yet there was something undeniably familiar about the de

berate ease. "You need to marry me?" he echoed, his voic

pulled out the wooden chair across from him and sat down. She leaned in, lowering her voice. "I don't have time for pleasant

or one asks of a stranger, cara mia." He let his voice rasp slightly, deepen

might refuse to answer. But then, she let out a slow, measured breath. "My family is in d

enjoyed watching others squirm beneath the weight of their misfortunes. If she had come to him-

believe that marrying an old

something unreadable. "Not just

rest

months, searching for sincerity in a world that had long since lost its purity. And here, in this rain-drenche

love. No flowery pr

his marriage?" he asked, h

said plainly. "No money, no power. I don't want your wealth. I just need

ble. If only she knew the irony of her words. That the old man she

found himsel

her find another solution to her problems. But something about her-the fire

this w

ctly the moment he h

w sip before speaking again. "Very well