Elena's POV "Traveling to Valencia is a bad idea, Elena!" my best friend Ingrid yells from the bedroom. Something is wrong with me. I love being told what to do, being obedient. My father knew this. He knew I would never disobey him. But he never thought I would be doing what I'm about to do now. I'm going to travel back to Valencia, the very place my father warned me never to return to. I step out of my bathroom and lean against the door. Ingrid is lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling. "Why do you still think it's a bad idea to go back to Spain?" I ask. "Well, your dad said Valencia wasn't safe for you... babe, he even went the extra mile to make sure you didn't go back," she shoots back, her voice rising. "He put a clause in his will, Elena! He said you shouldn't even come to Valencia for his own burial or you'll lose your inheritance. Your father did that... so what's your problem?" My dad brought me from Valencia to Pinecrest when I was ten. Since then, I have lived in this mansion with servants and guards, yearning for a mother who never calls and hardly answers when I do. Only my half-sister, Beatriz, speaks to me sometimes. A few years ago, I heard my mother was coming to Chicago for a wedding. Ingrid and I drove twenty-two hours to see her. I was exhausted but so happy. When we got there, my mother barely acknowledged us when we saw her. She told me she hadn't come to the US to see me. And now I'm about to go back to her, months after my father passed on. Everyone is against me going to Valencia. Even my father's sister, Aunt Lucinda, warned me not to go. "Do you think putting that clause was a joke?" Ingrid blurts out, startling me from my thoughts. "I mean, knowing how much your dad loves you... that must have been a big deal for him." I sigh in frustration. My flight is in a few hours. I don't want to spend that time arguing with Ingrid. "Ingrid, the will only says not to go to Valencia for his burial and not that I should never go to Valencia again. I checked with my lawyer... I can go now that everything is over," I say. My voice comes out flat and shaky. I hate when I argue with Ingrid. I brush my fingers over the velvety leaves of my African violet plant, gathering my courage. God, I'm going to miss my plants and Ingrid, even if she doesn't realise it. Ingrid turns and rises up on her elbow. "You'll be twenty-two in a few weeks and you want to spend it with your mom? A woman who has never visited you in almost twelve years and who makes it clear she doesn't want anything to do with you?" "Well, my dad didn't give her much of a choice when he yanked me away from her and brought me here to the US." Ingrid is sitting up now, staring at me like a disappointed parent. "Ingrid, please, can we not fight?" I ask, walking towards her. Ingrid, being the weird human being she is, proceeds to stare at me for what seems like an eternity. The silence and her gaze become excruciatingly uncomfortable, so I look down at my fingers instead. Finally, she sighs. "I just want you to be safe, Elena. Your dad left you everything. I don't think your mom is particularly okay with that." "I... I know, but we cannot entirely blame her. My dad was a great father. The best father anyone could ask for, but I guess he wasn't the best husband." Ingrid rolls her eyes mockingly. "I have met your mom, Elena... and she is not a saint." My dad is gone now. The pain never goes away. I miss him so much. It all just made me realise that I won't always have my parents forever, so I'm better off bonding with them while I can. Dad and Aunt Lucinda had been the only family I have had for a long time. But I can't keep living like this. I have a mom and a half-sister and a best friend who understands my love for plants. "Oh, Ingrid." I walk to her and hug her. She wriggles to break free from my embrace. "Well, since you are hell-bent on going to Spain, please get yourself an actual man, one that can talk and move, not all these plants you are obsessed with," she teases, pointing through the window to my variegated canna lily sitting just outside the greenhouse. "You know... One of those rich sires or heirs or whatever they call them in your circle... Maybe he'll be into the dominant kinky stuff you like," she adds. I roll my eyes. "Haha, very funny, as if it's that easy." I shrug. "I'm not particularly Spanish wife material." For as long as I can remember, I have always been plus-sized, which is a fancy way of saying all my life I have always been displeased with the number on the scale. Ingrid laughs. "And what would that be?" "You know, slim, sexy, chic." She scoffs, getting off the bed. "Ain't you the most self-unaware person on earth." Grabbing her hand, I say, "Stay with me... please," batting my lashes. "That doesn't work on me and you know it," she says, trying to pull away. "I'm unfortunately not sexually deviant like you." "Come on, Ingrid... I'm not a sexual deviant. I have never even had sex. I just... you know... fantasise about being dominated and controlled. Nothing wrong with that," I correct, tugging harder, and she falls back on the bed laughing. "If you say so... get some rest before your flight." "I want to rest with you," I tease, snuggling into her lap. Ingrid looks at me for a moment, her hands running through my damp hair. Her countenance changes abruptly as she goes completely still. "Elena." Her voice is low as she straightens. I find myself springing up in confusion too. "Elena, what about the man back home?" She holds my gaze and doesn't flinch as I search her expression, confused. "What man?" I inquire. She just stares at me. "The Mafia Don, Elena... The one you told me your father betrothed you to at seventeen." An uneasy pulse of memory runs through me, but I ignore it. Now is not the time to visit that.

Elena's POV I arrived in Valencia yesterday, and the first thing I had to do this morning was come to my garden, but what is before me right now is beyond heartbreaking. My Valencia garden is dying. This is where my love for plants started. I planted some of these with my dad when I was seven, and over the years my dad always sent me pictures of how they had been thriving. Sometimes he even teased that the plants here were doing better than the ones I had in my greenhouse in Pinecrest. What I am looking at now is the exact opposite. My plants have been abandoned, and that is surprising because I have a gardener on payroll. But I wish it was only the dying jasmine that was making my chest tighten. I wish it was how my favourite plant, the Heliconia, had dropped its head into the soil that was making me uneasy, but it wasn't just that. Ingrid's last conversation. The betrothal, the contract, the entirety of it all made bile curl down my belly. About five years ago, a few months before I turned seventeen, my dad had brought me down to Spain. I had been so happy thinking I was coming back home and calling to tell Ingrid. But we didn't come here to Valencia. When we got to Spain, my father took me to an unfamiliar mansion, and in that house a man welcomed us. He was way older than my papa. They both smiled and talked, then Papa asked me to sign two papers. I asked him why, and he said it was a marriage contract. I was confused. Was I marrying this old man? My dad must have sensed my fear because he immediately told me I was marrying the man's nephew, a mafia boss, and he wasn't around. Still confused, I signed on the spaces for my name. I didn't dare read the other contents of the paper. I just wanted to go home. But instead of coming here to Valencia, we returned back to Pinecrest. Dad kept his copy in his safe. I know where it is. I know the combination. But I have never gone to read it. I want to live a little with this fantasy of normalcy, even if it was a lie. But then Ingrid brought it up. Now I'm in Spain. What if this man comes for me? What if my freedom is over? I had always dreamt of being in a mind-blowing romance with a dominant man, being claimed, but this is different. I know enough about how marriages in the mafia are conducted. Love is not a requirement in these kinds of arrangements. A sharp spike of fear jolts through my heart. God, please, at least let me celebrate with my family. Let me spend time with my mom and sister before I face any of these. Please, please. Someone coughing at my behind jerks me from my deep thoughts. I turn to see who decided a cough was the best way to announce their presence instead of the good old 'hello'. It's Camila, one of my father's oldest workers. She nurtured me as a child. "Good morning, Camila." "Good morning, Miss Elena." "I wanted to give you this." She places a rainbow bracelet in my hand. I couldn't believe it. It was the bracelet my dad gifted my mom. My mom didn't like it and she threw it away.I picked it up from the trash and It was my favourite bracelet, but I must have left it back. All these years and its trinkets still dazzled. I wear it on my right wrist. "I found it when I was cleaning your room. I thought you would want it," she says. "Oh, Camila. Thank you so much." "You are welcome." She turns to leave. "Wait, Camila, please... Why is my garden like this?" I wave my hand to point out the catastrophic combination of weeds and dying plants standing in front of us. "Where is the gardener? I have not seen him since I arrived yesterday." Camila sighs. "After your papa passed," she pauses, "your mama fired him." "Wait, what?" I query. She nods. "No, Camila. My mom never told me she fired anyone. In fact, she requested more hands on the estate, and I approved the money for their wages." "Yes, she employed a few workers, but she fired Raphael, the gardener. Only Raphael she fired. And when we tried to keep the garden, to water... to weed it, your mama was very angry. I know your papa loved this garden. He made sure it was kept." My heart is pounding. No. Camila must be making this up. It's not possible. "Your mama and your sister Beatriz don't love this garden... Beatriz struck that plant over there with a stick." I move slowly in the direction she is pointing. Just as I feared, my Heliconia has its head bent into the soil in a way that weather doesn't usually bend plants. It definitely could not have been done by wind. But it wasn't possible. Camila must have seen wrong. I stare at her, looking for any sign she is kidding, but her expression remains stern. Still, it doesn't mean Beatriz would do such a thing. We both grew up on this estate. Beatriz knows how much I love that plant. She could never. "Thank you, Camila," I say in a voice calmer than I feel. I move past her to the main building to find my mom. I am sure Camila made a mistake, and now I just have to get my mom to clear up all these confusion.

There are voices coming from my mom's room as I approach. I pause by the door. Amused chattering. Three people, two of whom I recognise. My mom, my half-sister Beatriz, and the third voice sounds like a young girl. I lean in, my ear against the door. "Bold of her to think she can come from God knows where and you will start following her across Valencia like some tour guide," the girl says. "You should have seen how she was listing places we should visit. She even did research. An entitled piece of shit like her father. If I didn't have a plan in motion, I would have slapped her," Beatriz says. They are probably talking about one of their friends. "Oh, Beatriz, we will finally get our revenge for what was taken from us," the girl says gleefully. "You need to get her to go there. I have made a copy of the contract, but she still has the original," I hear my mom say. "That's the only loose end left." What are they talking about? Besides, what am I doing, eavesdropping? "Señora, don't worry. Trust Beatriz to convince her. Everything is ready. It'll be handled as planned." I'm getting uncomfortable. I'll just go in and talk about the garden that brought me here. I knock. "Who is there?" "It's me, Elena." I could have sworn I heard something shuffling, as if they are arranging things. I decide it's probably nothing. "Come in," my mother finally says. I step in and immediately put a face to the voice. The girl is blonde, in her late twenties. "Are you here for something, or did you come to stare at your sister's cousin?" Mom asks angrily. "Cousin? How?" "She is from my dad's side," Beatriz explains. I didn't know Beatriz had contact with her father's side. I didn't even know she wasn't my father's child until she told me when we were teenagers. "Nice to meet you. I'm Ines." "Nice to meet you, Ines." "I will take my leave," she says, standing. "I hope you are not leaving because of me." "No. Besides, I'm here until we leave for Marbella." "We?" "You and I." She is obviously joking. Why would I go to Marbella? I wait until she leaves, then turn to Mom. She looks at me as if I'm standing before her dipped in poop. "Good morning, Mom. I... I saw the garden. It's in a terrible state." I since learn that it's always better to get straight to the point, when I'm talking to my mom. She arches a brow. "It's been abandoned. The staff said it was on your orders." "Yes. I gave the order." "Really... What about the gardener?" "I let him go." "Why?" "We needed other workers. I made the necessary changes." I take a breath. "Mom, we increased our workers. I corresponded with the accountants. I approved it. Somewhere in that expansion, you had to let my gardener go?" She laughs, her gaze travelling over me. "Look at you. Claiming authority over staff because your dad placed you in charge." A lump forms in my throat. "You haven't earned the right to boss me around. You haven't worked a day in your life except tending to your plants. Your aunt is trying to hold together everything your father built. And I won't even take orders from her about managing this estate." Oh no, I have made her angry. "Mom, please..." "I don't have time for this, Elena. I have a trip to make." She walks out. I turn to Beatriz, who is smiling. "What do I do?" "What?" "To make her like me." Her expression shifts. "Can you hear yourself?" She taps the bed. "Come, sit. Mom is just worked up from preparing for her trip." "Where is she going?" "I don't know. But I'm leaving for Italy in three days, so I've planned for you to go on vacation in Marbella." I didn't hear that right. Beatriz knows why I came. We talked on the phone, planning places we would visit together. "Let me know the guard you'll be taking so I can correspond with Ines." "I no longer use guards," I cut in. After Dad passed, I convinced Aunt Lucinda to let me live like a normal human being. Beatriz's eyes widen. A small smile curves on her lips. "You're joking, right?" "No. Aunt Lucinda let me. But you're joking, right?" "About what?" "Travelling in three days." "No, I'm travelling." I grab her shoulder. Her smile widens. "Beatriz, we have plans!" I shriek. "I know. I'm sorry. I have to make this trip. Trust me, I've made plans for you. Ines will..." "I don't want Ines," I snap. "Calm down, Elena." I wipe my eyes. I hadn't realised I was crying. "Since you and Mom are going, I'll just go back." "What?" "I don't want to go to Marbella with Ines. I'll return to Pinecrest." "I will strangle you myself, Elena," Mom mutters behind me. I turn. Her eyes blaze as she heads to her closet. I see the suitcases. They are all leaving right after I came. "Mom, where are you going? When I called to tell you I was coming, nobody mentioned anything. Now you're both travelling, and I'm expected to go to Marbella with someone I don't even..." "We do not all have the luxury of controlling your father's money. Some of us receive impromptu invitations, and we go." She steps closer. "And I don't know where you got the idea that I answer to you." "Mom, I never said..." "Then why are you questioning everything I do? Your father is not here anymore. So it's your turn to question me?" "I came to celebrate my birthday with you," I say, choking. "There is nothing important about your birthday that we all have to put our lives on hold for." The words land like a slap. "Do you have any idea what it took your sister to arrange this trip? Last minute? She made sure Ines came so you wouldn't be alone. You are just an ungrateful girl." I lower my eyes. I had told them before coming. We had talked about it, and no one had said anything about leaving. Now there are already suitcases in her closet, and I'm supposed to start packing mine. I don't even understand why Beatriz made all those plans with me if she knew she wouldn't be here. "You will go to your room and start packing. When Ines is set to leave, you will go with her to Marbella. It's not like you have anything to do in the US. You will leave just as your sister planned. Do I make myself clear?" Silence. "Do I make myself clear?" she repeats. "Yes, Mom," I reply with a sob.