At the Holt mansion, seated in his imposing chair at the head of the dining table, Frederico maintained an upright posture despite his advanced age and the illness that slowly drained his strength. His eyes—still sharp—commanded the room. Beside him, his wife Olga, with the calm only maturity could bring, watched his every move with quiet concern.

Farther down the table, Felipe—Frederico’s son—and his wife Érica, Liam’s stepmother, exchanged silent looks.

When everyone was seated, Frederico raised his glass of wine, but he didn’t toast. His deep voice echoed through the dining hall, merciless.

“— To my future great-grandchild,” he announced, letting the weight of the words hang in the air. “Liam needs to get married—quickly.”

Olga was the first to react, leaning forward slightly, her expression distressed.

“Frederico, you can’t demand that of our grandson,” she said, her voice calm but filled with pain. “He has the right to make his own choices. You know that since he was a child, he’s always said he didn’t want marriage.”

The patriarch placed his trembling hand on the table, his knuckles whitening, but his voice didn’t lose its firmness.

“I don’t care,” he said coldly. “The Holt inheritance needs legitimate continuity. For it to be validated, Liam knows he must marry and have an heir with his own wife. The marriage must last at least one year.”

Olga sighed, disappointed, lowering her gaze to her wine glass as if she couldn’t bear to face that rigidity.

“You’re trapping his life inside rules…”

“They’re not rules,” Frederico snapped, his tone sharp as a verdict. “They’re conditions. If Liam doesn’t comply, everything will go to his cousin.”

Felipe adjusted his jacket and leaned forward, seizing the opening his father had given him.

“It’s fair,” he said firmly, as if he’d rehearsed those words. “After all, it’s what Liam chose for his life.”

Érica, wearing a half-smile as cold as ice, added—her sugary voice disguising poison:

“Liam needs to understand this isn’t just about him.”

Olga shot her daughter-in-law a disapproving look, her eyes glassy with tears.

“You talk about fortune, but you forget you’re talking about a person’s life. And Charles is also your grandson, and Alberto is also your son, Frederico.”

The air grew heavy—until the sound of firm footsteps echoed down the corridor. Liam appeared in the doorway, the fatigue of travel stamped across his face, yet with the same presence of someone who knew he would always be watched and judged.

Silence swallowed the room. Every gaze turned to him.

“Looks like I walked in on a trial,” he said, his voice rough, edged with irony.

Érica forced a smile, trying to disguise her discomfort.

“We were just talking about the future, Liam.”

He narrowed his eyes, a brief, disbelieving laugh escaping.

“Talking?” He moved closer to the table, resting his hands on the back of a chair, his gaze locked on her. “I’d call it something else.”

Frederico slammed his hand on the table, the dry sound slicing through the air.

“Sit down. I need to speak with you.”

Liam obeyed, pulling out the chair with a scrape.

Frederico didn’t waste time, his eyes burning with authority.

“You know that for your inheritance to be validated—and for you to remain in charge of the companies—you must marry. And give me a great-grandchild.”

The young man let out a short, bitter laugh, leaning back in his chair.

“Again with the same subject, Grandpa?” His voice carried a painful sarcasm. “I never wanted that. I’m not going to want it now. I’m doing just fine with the life I live.”

Felipe cut in, his voice authoritative, but tense.

“It’s not about wanting, Liam. It’s duty.”

Liam turned to him, his gaze sharp, and old resentment overflowed.

“Duty?” he repeated. “And who are you to talk about duty, Felipe? You were never exactly a shining example of a father. Or a husband.”

Felipe stood up, furious, his face turning red.

“You owe me respect!”

Liam stared back without blinking, his lips tightening into a bitter smile.

“Respect is earned. And you never gave me a reason to have any for you.”

Érica decided to intervene, leaning over the table, her voice sweet as venom.

“Liam, think about everything you’ll lose. The luxury, the privileges, the trips…”

He turned slowly toward her, letting his anger show in every syllable.

“Afraid of losing the good life?” The irony cut like a blade. “Deep down, you know the empire my grandfather built isn’t at risk—unlike your husband. It’s long past time you got a job, Érica.”

The impact was immediate. Her smile vanished. The mask slipped. Olga pressed a hand to her chest, startled, while Felipe took a step forward, outraged.

“Enough, Liam!” he shouted. “You live feeding on hatred. It’s been years! Life goes on!”

A half-smile curved Liam’s lips—cold, provoking.

“For you, maybe. Not for me.”

He stood, ignoring his father and stepmother, and turned to his grandfather.

“Excuse me. I need to speak with you in private, Grandpa.”

Frederico made a brief gesture, allowing it.

---

That night, far from the mansion, Liam parked in front of the luxurious building where Bárbara lived—his girlfriend. A famous model, cold and calculating. She welcomed him with a practiced smile, her light eyes shining with ambition more than affection. Her slender body was wrapped in a silk robe that barely covered her legs.

“You look exhausted, love,” she said, closing the door behind him.

Liam dropped onto the sofa, loosening his tie. Bárbara stepped behind him, sliding her firm hands over his shoulders, beginning a slow massage.

“You’re tense… very tense,” she whispered in a coaxing voice, brushing her lips near his ear.

He closed his eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“My grandfather is relentless with this marriage nonsense.”

“And you won’t accept it,” she replied, her fingers gliding down his chest, her expression confident. “But I have a solution.”

He opened his eyes, suspicious, studying her face.

“A solution?” he repeated, his voice cold—like someone who already knew there was no way out of something he didn’t want.

Bárbara moved around the sofa and sat beside him, her gaze icy and calculating.

“A contract marriage,” she said casually. “A woman chosen only for that. She’ll be a surrogate.”

Liam raised an eyebrow, incredulous.

“A surrogate?” His voice came out dry. “I came here to unwind, not to listen to this. I don’t want to be a father—let alone get married.”

“I can’t have children right now, Liam, you know that,” she explained with a rehearsed sigh. “My tubes are blocked. And besides, I don’t want to interrupt my career, ruin my body. But you can meet the requirement: marry someone else, pretend you have a perfect relationship, have the heir. After one year… you divorce. Then we get married, no problems with your grandfather. We hire a good nanny. And we live happily ever after. Don’t forget my eggs are frozen.”

Liam—those green eyes fixed on her—stared for a long moment, his jaw locked. Then he grabbed her arm and pulled her between his legs.

“This conversation ends here,” he said, his voice low and firm, making it clear he didn’t want to hear another word. “Now make me forget.”

Bárbara smiled—provocative, satisfied to see him give in in a different way. She slowly sank to her knees, unfastening his pants with quick hands.

“I missed you… my sexy dark-haired man,” she murmured, looking him in the eyes, her tongue grazing her lips. “I’ll calm you down the way you like.”

He leaned back against the sofa, his muscles loosening.

They gave in to a game of raw pleasure—without love, only his escape and her manipulation.